Lost Boy 10

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Lost Boy

Part the Tenth

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Lily was so surprised she almost jumped.  She had been hurrying down a corridor, late for meeting Sirius, when Hartwig just spoke to her from where he was leaning up against the castle wall.

Her heart stopped.  “Pardon?”

“What are you doing Saturday?”  Hartwig’s dark green gaze shone brightly.

“—Schoolwork.”

“You’re not ahead?”  He seemed genuinely surprised.

She blushed.  Lily always blushed around Hartwig Potter.  She couldn’t help it.  She fancied him so completely.  She dreamt about him.  He was so dreamy with his long auburn curls and deep green eyes.  He was swoon worthy with his perfect Quidditch build and his chiseled jaw and strong arms—

“Ev—Black.”

She blinked. 

“Are you sure you’re not free Saturday?  I want to show you something.”  His voice had begun to deepen.  As far as she knew, it had never broken like other boys around the age of thirteen, but just shifted down and it was continuing to shift.  She liked that about him.

Clutching the books in her arms, she tried to be smooth.  “I suppose I could give you an hour after lunch.”

“I might need two or three,” he admitted, crossing his arms and tapping his left handed fingers against his right elbow.  Odd.  She did that.  “I hope you don’t mind breaking the rules slightly.  It’s at Potter Abbey.”

“Why can’t you have someone owl it here?”  She asked, confused.

“I’d never get permission,” he admitted.  “Plus a team of owls couldn’t carry it.—I’ll have Aunt Euphemia give us a nice tea.”

She felt torn.  Lily didn’t like to break the rules and to leave Hogwarts—

Hartwig must have seen that she was wavering, because he reached out and put his hand right next to her on the wall.  He couldn’t touch her because of their vined rings, but he leaned in close and she could feel his breath tickling her right ear.  “Please,” he asked, and her heart stuttered.

“Ah-alright, Hartwig,” she agreed.  She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him close to her, but he leaned away again.

“Great,” he told her.  “I’ll meet you at the one-eyed witch just after lunch.  Make sure Black doesn’t follow you around like the puppy dog that he is.”

She startled.  If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

He gave her a self-satisfied smirk.  “I’ll see you then.”

Watching him go, Lily waited for her heart to restart.

She had to now go and meet Sirius even though she swore that her heart was in her throat.  She took a breath and visibly calmed herself.

On Saturday she deliberately skipped lunch.  Sirius would definitely notice if she wasn’t wearing jeans, and Lily couldn’t meet Mrs. Potter wearing anything but robes.  It would look odd if she wore her formal robes, so she chose a pair of daywear robes of deep mauve that looked almost black.  She waited for the correct time for lunch to be over and made her way to the statue of the one-eyed witch.

Hartwig was waiting for her, wearing robes of deep crimson.

He looked slightly surprised to see her.  She smiled to herself.  He had taken notice of her.  She had definitely made the right choice in wearing the wizarding robes.

What she hadn’t expected was for Hartwig to take her through a secret passage and out into the storeroom of Honeydukes.  She kept close to him in the darkness, using any excuse she could to cling to his sleeve, even pretending to trip in the passageway even when the way was smooth.

They dashed out of the store and out into the light March air.  It was slightly cold and Lily held herself close to retain heat.  Hartwig gentlemanly cast warming charms on her.  She blushed again.  She hoped it didn’t clash with her hair.

“We can’t use the floo at The Three Broomsticks,” she warned.  “Someone will certainly notice us.”

“No,” Hartwig agreed.  “There’s another pub in town.”

The other pub, The Hog’s Head, was run down.  The barkeep was cleaning glasses with a dirty rag and making them even dirtier.  Lily had to fight from scrunching her nose and kept close to Hartwig even though there was only one patron in the far corner.

“Good day, Aberforth,” Hartwig greeted, coming up to the bar.  “Did you get my note?”

“Off to the Abbey,” this Aberforth agreed, reaching underneath the counter and producing a bowl of floo powder.  “Give my regards to Fleamont and Euphemia.”

“Of course,” Hartwig agreed.  “This is Stephagenia Black.  She’s in Gryffindor.”

Lily nodded and gave Aberforth a tremulous smile.

Aberforth grunted.  “Looks like Albus has his hooks into her.  She has that air about her.”

Albus?  As in Albus Dumbledore?

“We can’t always choose our family,” Hartwig chided.  “Thanks again.”  He picked up a handful of floo and led Lily to the fire.  She glanced back at Aberforth but quickly followed.  He threw the floo powder into the flames and shouted, “Potter Abbey.”  The flames flickered a lurid green, and he grabbed her elbow, pulling her into the fireplace.

Lily had traveled by floo before but never while someone was holding onto her.

She knocked against Hartwig as they whipped by fireplace after fireplace until they fell out of the correct one in a lump of limbs.

“Sorry,” Hartwig apologized.  “You can only enter with an invitation or if you’re of Potter blood.”  He got up and dusted himself off before lending her a hand.  She got to her feet, unsteady for a moment, before checking her hair and straightening her robes.  When had she become such a girl?

“Not at all,” she told him with a small smile.

He was still dreamy even after coming out of the floo.

“Just warn a girl next time.”

“Next time?” he asked.

Her heart stuttered in disappointment.

They looked away from each other, the air suddenly laden and full between them.  Lily looked around and noticed they were in a foyer with a wooden staircase leading upward to the next level.

“You better come up,” Hartwig eventually said, leading her toward the stairs.  “I’m on the third floor.  Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.”  Lily didn’t mind anything as long as she was with Hartwig.

Her treacherous mind reminded her that she was going with Sirius, but her heart reminded her how she just wanted Hartwig to look at her with a kind look just once.

They came to a hallway and Hartwig came to one door and tapped it with his wand.  The door swung open and they entered what was clearly a teenage boy’s room.  Jerseys and polo shirts were thrown every which way and there was a broom leaning up against the wall.

Lily gasped.  On the bed a young wizard with messy black hair and a pasty white face was lying there as if asleep, his hands folded atop his stomach.  A pair of glasses rested on a book on his nightstand.

“This is James Potter,” Hartwig explained.  “Fleamont and Euphemia’s son.  He was a first year with you in Gryffindor.”  Hartwig walked up and sat on the edge of the bed.  “He caught the plague and he’s sleeping the Living Death.  They don’t think he’s ever going to wake up.”

Lily stared at James.  She remembered the rambunctious boy from her first term.  He had always been with Sirius and Lupin.  They had been inseparable, but then he had just disappeared.  She hadn’t thought to question it.

“Is he your cousin?” Lily asked carefully.

“Not quite,” Hartwig answered.  “Today is his eighteenth birthday.”  He stood and came over to stand by Lily.  “I like to come here and tell him what’s going on in my life.  Aunt Euphemia tries to put heavier and heavier locking spells on the door, but I always manage to get through.  You can’t keep Potter blood out.”  He laid a hand on her shoulder and then walked toward the door, holding it open for her.

Her vined ring didn’t even warm in warning.

Glancing one last time at James, she walked out of the room and waited for Hartwig to follow.

They next went to the room directly beside James’s.

Hartwig opened it for her and led her in.  It was another bedroom though much cleaner.  It certainly belonged to a young wizard as well.  Posters for the Kenmore Kestrals were up on the wall as well as Lorcan d’Eath.

“When I was Lost, I lived with a Muggle family.  They called me ‘Harry.’  I didn’t know I was named ‘Hartwig’ until I got my Hogwarts letter, much like you didn’t know you were named ‘Stephagenia’ until you took a lesser variation of the hereditary potion.”  He walked around the bed to a spare part of the wall.  Waving his wand, a framed parchment suddenly appeared, and Lily quickly came up behind him and looked.

“Aunt Euphemia gave me the hereditary potion during Christmas break.  I knew who my father was.  I always knew.  I suspected who my mother was. It’s why—” He took a deep breath and blew it out.  “—The Potters are on the left.”  He stepped back and Lily looked at him. 

“You want me to—”

“Start at the top or the bottom.  You’ll see what I’m trying to tell you.”

Lily looked at the parchment and was bombarded by the intricacy of the family tree.  She started on the left.  She could see the Potters, six generations of them, starting with ‘Elphias Potter,’ a pureblood squib, going down to ‘Fleamont Potter,’ who was a direct ancestor and not an uncle, down to ‘James Potter’ born 1960 and then to—”  She turned around and stared at him.  “He’s in a coma in the next room.  He’s not old enough to be your father.”

“Check the date of my birth.”

She turned back and checked.  1980.  It was 1978.

Lily turned back to him with wide eyes.  “That’s impossible.”

He didn’t move.  Hartwig just stood there.

Turning back to the family tree, she looked at the names again.  ‘Hartwig James’ born 1980, one line above was ‘James Fleamont’ born 1960 and directly across was ‘Stephagenia Lilliana’ also born 1960.  She gasped.

Placing her finger beneath her name, she traced up to ‘Alphard’ and ‘Elnora.’  The ‘Stephagenia’ was undoubtedly her. 

Her body went preternaturally still.  Everything was silent and then there was a horrible roaring in her ears.  Hartwig had Alphard’s eyes.  Hartwig had her hair.  She ironed the curls out of it every morning. 

Then it hit her.  She was not only in love with her own son, she was physically attracted to him.  Lily had fantasized about him.  She suddenly felt nauseous and began to wretch.  Immediately, she felt a presence behind her and a bowl was conjured in front of her.  She felt a hand holding her around her waist, but she was too busy throwing up the bile in her stomach.  Thank the Lord her hair was pinned up on the top of her head.

When she was finished, the bowl was whipped away and a cloth was brought up to her face.  Lily was lowered onto the bed and she realized Hartwig was rubbing circles on her back.

He was her son, her son, and he had traveled in time to be at school with her.

“Why are you here?” she gasped, looking up at him.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked, clearly a little confused.  “I can give you time to collect your thoughts.”

“No,” she whispered, reaching out and grasping his hand.  Her vined ring didn’t even vibrate.  He really was her son.  Only family could touch other close family members.  “Why did you travel back in time?  Did you come back to save your father?”

Comprehension bloomed on his face.  “No,” he answered.  “I never knew you or Dad.  I grew up with the Dursleys.”

Her eyes went wide.  “Petunia married Dursley?”

“Yes.”

She tried to think back about what she knew about the man, but all she remembered was that Petunia thought he was ‘perfect.’ 

“Why?”

“You and Dad had died.  They said it was a car crash.  Now I think it was the war.  They lied about magic.  They never mentioned you, never let me ask any questions.  I wouldn’t put it past them to make up stories.”

A stone sank in her stomach.  She had left her child an orphan?

“Then how did you end up here?”

Sighing, he answered, “I opened my Hogwarts letter, and it was a portkey.  It brought me here, now.” 

She tried to take all this in.  Looking back toward the family tree, she breathed, “If I don’t marry James, you’ll never be born.”

“No,” Hartwig agreed.  “I don’t think I’m going to be born this time around.  I don’t think Dad is going to wake up in time for you to be married by next summer.”  He ground his teeth.  “He’s just going to lie on that bed until his breath gives out some time in his hundreds.”

That sobered Lily.  She couldn’t imagine anything more horrible.

“Why did you tell me all of this?  I thought you hated me.”

“I hate your crush on me,” Hartwig amended.  “It disturbs me.”

Well, it certainly disturbed Lily now, too.

“I know from—sources—that the Dark Lord is focused on you because you’re a black card, that he may be thinking of marrying you.  He’s set aside a betrothal that has been in place for thirty years.  I don’t want that to happen.  I’d rather see you marry that idiot Black than turn you over to the Dark Lord.”

“I can handle the Dark Lord.”

Hartwig looked annoyed.  “No, you can’t.  I’ve been in Slytherin with Death Eaters for five years.  You’ve dealt with him for what?  Two months?  He’s trying to charm you at the moment.  What about when he no longer wants to charm you?  They say he tortures his Death Eaters when he’s displeased.”

Lily grimaced.  She had heard that rumor, too.

“Hartwig, I’m your moth—”

“Don’t even try it,” he argued back.  “You’re only two years older than me.”

She looked at him and deflated.  Lily had thought she’d try it, but it seemed she wouldn’t be able to pull that argument yet.  She took a deep breath.

“Wizard father doesn’t want to offend the Dark Lord.  The Blacks are a dark family.”

Hartwig breathed out of his nose.  “The Potters are neutral.”

They were sitting side by side on the bed, their shoulders clunking together, although Hartwig was several inches taller than Lily. 

“What about you?”

“The Dark Lord is giving me something I desperately want,” Hartwig told her carefully.  “Before you ask, you’re not a Potter.  You’ve been the bane of my existence all year.  Your name might be up on that parchment, but I don’t know you.  You may have been my mother in a different life, but I haven’t proven myself to you and you haven’t proven yourself to me.”

“Sirius will try to keep us apart,” Lily realized.  “He knows I’ve been mad on you for ages.”

“Maia thinks I’m obsessed with you because I was trying to figure out if you were going with Black.  I’m not sure how I feel about him being my stepfather.”

Lily tried to remind herself not to chew her thumb nail.  Her manicure from Christmas holidays had lasted until February and she had popped into Madam Francesca’s for another just before she had gone to Madam Puddifoot’s with Sirius, but it was getting a bit ragged.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you having a paramour.  Are you sleeping with him?”

“No!” Hartwig immediately denied.  “Lucius is a gentlewizard.”

Gentlewizard.  There’s one she’d never heard before.

Lily snorted.

Hartwig looked at her with wide green eyes, clearly vexed.

“I’ll have you know that Aunt Euphemia approves—”

“’Aunt Euphemia,’” Lily mimicked, “is a pureblood witch who has her head screwed on the wrong way.  They all have this strange pureblood society with its strange pureblood rules and manners.  A wizard can’t even kiss a witch’s hand.”

“That’s because if he does, he’d break her vined finger!”  Hartwig was breathing heavily.

Despite knowing that he was her son, Lily wanted nothing more than to kiss him.  The thought disturbed her.  She closed her eyes in self-disgust.

“Hartwig, you grew up with Muggles, surely you can see how strange—”

“—how much better this is?” Hartwig corrected.  “Yes, yes, I can.  Jesus, how did Dad ever marry you?”

Lily drew back her hand and slapped him.

An angry red handprint marred the side of Hartwig’s cheek.  He looked at her, completely stunned.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he admitted.

“No, no. you shouldn’t,” she agreed, her voice quiet.  “We should have a plan.”

“You need to put off the Dark Lord.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.  The Dark Lord wants what he wants and he gets what he wants,” Hartwig assured her.  “You’re not only a Black, one of the preeminent families in England, you have the blackest of magics and you’re a Lost Boy.  You might be the most eligible witch in Europe.”

“He can’t force me to marry him.”

“He was going to force the witch he was betrothed to.  Her father was going to put her under the Imperius Curse if she didn’t do what they wanted.”

Lily blinked.  “Wizard Father would never do that to me—”

“Are you sure that’s true for all the Blacks?”

Lily honestly couldn’t answer that.  She took a breath.  “Anyway, the Dark Lord isn’t interested in marrying me.  He just takes tea with me—”

Hartwig slumped and groaned into the back of his hand.  “Don’t you know anything about wizards?  When a wizard courts a witch, he takes her to tea.  You can’t go to tea without it stating intentions.”

“Tea has strictly been at my father’s flat—”

Hartwig turned to her, completely bewildered.  “That’s because the Dark Lord can’t show his face in public.  He also can’t trust you at Headquarters yet!  For being clever enough to be Head Girl, you’re completely clueless.”

Lily felt the impulse to either kiss or smack Hartwig again.

She looked away from him to try to avoid doing one or either.

“I think we should agree to disagree.  I don’t want my son around the Dark Lord either.”

“It’s a bit late for that.  I befriended Maia Gaunt my first week at Hogwarts.”

Lily had a niggling question in the back of her mind and now she had Hartwig all to herself, she might as well ask it.  “Who is Maia Gaunt?”

Hartwig looked over at her.  “Oh, of course you don’t know.  She’s the Dark Lord’s ‘niece,’ cousin to be more specific.  He raised her as his own.  She’s rumored to be his heir despite not being male.”  He took a deep breath.  “He marks all his followers.  All of them.  It’s an ugly tattoo on their right forearm.  Maia isn’t marked.  As Maia’s friend I’m not marked.  Are you sure you can get out without being branded like an animal?”

“If he wants to marry me—”

“Do you actually want me to believe that my own mother wants to marry him?”

Lily deflated a bit.  “No, no I don’t.”

“Then what are you playing at?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.  Looking over at Hartwig, she studied the curve of his face and wondered if it was the same as Alphard’s.  Was he truly her son?

“I can never marry James Potter,” she whispered.  “Even if he woke up today—”

“I know,” Hartwig admitted carefully.  “I’m very much aware of that.  There will only be one of me in this timeline.”  He huffed a little to himself.  “I can’t ask you to wait for a living corpse.”

“There isn’t much time to wait,” Lily admitted.  “For you to be born in July 1980, we’d have to be married by October 1979.”

“And it’s March 1978.  There’s only a year and a half left.”  He turned and looked over his shoulder toward the door.  “Aunt Euphemia has tea ready.”

Lily was confused.  She hadn’t heard a knock at the door or the scuttering about of a house elf.  However, she got up and followed Harry back out into the hall and down to the ground floor where an elegant tea service was set up.  A wizen witch, with white hair, hazel eyes, and deep lines around her mouth and eyes was waiting for them.

“Ah, Stephagenia, dear,” she greeted.  “I am your Aunt Euphemia.”

“Mrs. Potter,” she greeted, giving a small curtsey.

“None of that, none of that,” Mrs. Potter insisted.  “As I said, I’m your Aunt Euphemia.”

Hartwig leaned down and kissed his grandmother on the cheek.  As he leaned back, she reached forward and patted his face affectionately.

“He is the perfect heir, is he not?” Mrs. Potter asked somewhat rhetorically as she poured the tea for the three of them.  “We could not ask for better.”

“I was sorry to hear about your son,” Lily put in hesitantly.

Mrs. Potter paused.  “It was a shock all those years ago, but the Old Magics gave us Hartwig.  It was quite the blessing.”

What transpired was the most awkward—and most polite—tea Lily had ever had.  What does one say to your future mother-in-law when you haven’t even met the groom and he’s lying in a coma upstairs?

She and Hartwig flooed back to The Hogs Head and then walked back to Honeydukes, sneaking off to the back storeroom.

“I trust I can count on your silence without requiring an Unbreakable Vow,” he asked seriously.  “I’ll send for Maia or Regulus to meet us at the other end if that’s necessary.”

“No, I don’t want people to know you’re my son,” she answered truthfully.  “Half the castle knows I’m mad on you.  How embarrassing.”  She blushed even though they could only see by wandlight.  She was still keeping close to Hartwig despite everything, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

“Good,” Hartwig agreed as the tunnel began to climb upwards.  “No one outside of the family other than the Dark Lord knows.”

“You-Know-Who—”

“I couldn’t get around it.  He asked who my parents were.—At that point I didn’t exactly know you were Stephagenia Black.”

“No,” she agreed.  “When did you know I was your mother?”

“I always suspected.  Aunt Petunia told me my mother was her sister ‘Lily.’  Then I came to Hogwarts and there was a Muggleborn named ‘Lily Evans’ who had auburn hair.  I thought I was mistaken for a week when I learnt my mother’s actual name was ‘Stephagenia Black’ and she was a pureblood but then you—”  He turned around in the tunnel and looked at her in the half light.  “You turned out to be ‘Stephagenia.’”

“Sorry to be such a disappointment.”  Lily felt slightly petulant at that moment.

He sighed.  “You’re not a disappointment.—you’re a complication.”  He turned back and led them onward.

They slipped out from behind the one-eyed witch and Lily stood there, uncertain if she should hug Hartwig goodbye.  He didn’t seem very inclined. 

“Make sure Black treats you right,” he told her gruffly, clearly uncomfortable.  “He’s rather horrible to Regulus.  I wouldn’t want him to be horrible to you.”

“Reggie is his little brother and in Slytherin—I’m neither.”

“No, I suppose you’re right.”  He looked off to the side.  “Just think about what I said.  About the Dark Lord.”

She gave him a strained smile.

He looked like he didn’t believe whatever she was trying to convey.  He reached up and squeezed her arm before turning around and heading for the dungeons.  She stood there stupidly for a moment and thought for a long moment.  No, this didn’t change anything.  She still fancied the robes off Hartwig Potter even if in another life he might have been her son.  In this life he wasn’t.

She turned and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower.  She hopefully wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why she was wearing robes.