Putting The 'M' in Mystery~ Hinny/Jily

Column of Fire

James's head snapped round to stare at her.

"Are you serious?"

Her own head turned away from the gory sight and she raised one dark red eyebrow.

"James, that's just about the most serious thing I've ever said. I'm declaring my love for you in the middle of a battlefield where there's a pretty good chance that we're going to lose our lives. Does it get much more serious than that?"

James was still staring, and when he started to speak, his voice was soft, but very intense.

"I've been praying for you to say that since first year. It's, well, it's slightly difficult to believe that you actually ... did!"

His expression was fairly calm, save his very, very wide hazel eyes. He started to laugh.

"That's really crap timing, you do realize that?"

Lily cocked her eyebrow again, "Oh? And why's that? Do tell, dear Mr Potter."

James gave her a somewhat crazed smile.

"Because I'm not really in a good position to leap for joy."

Lily took his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze, before giving him a light kiss on the lips.

"You can leap later. Let's go."

_._._._._._._._

Harry dodged a curse that he had no desire to know the origin of, and was able to turn in time to fire a stunner, which missed its mark, but ploughed into the chest of a Death Eater that had been advancing on Voldemort's right. He felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that the man would be out cold for at least a week.

Ciad slid from underneath his sleeve, and began to croon happily,

'Flee, my little piecccee of sssscum

Before my massster claimssss your ssspleen

Yessss, we will break you, ssscalelessss worm'

Harry always found it rather gratifying when his snake insulted his foes in battle, even if she was rather hard to live with the rest of the time. She also had a tendency to claim credit for vanquishing whoever Harry happened to be vanquishing, but a boastful Familiar was better than no familiar at all.

Harry cursed himself for letting his mind wander, and apparated several feet to avoid a spell that would force him to eat his own arms. He'd conveniently forgotten that the action was impossible, and, as a result, found it fairly easy. The jet of indigo light was absorbed into the enormous golden sphere he'd erected at the start of the duel.

Aiming a powerful cutting curse just above Voldemort's head, he forced the repulsive creature to duck. Taking his opportunity, he slipped his hand under the folds of his cloak. His fingers folded over the leather of Gryffindor's sword, the handle that he'd crafted to fit into every minute contour of his hand. Voldemort raised his wand, ready to fire off another ray of death, but faltered when he saw Harry's faint smile.

In a fluid movement invisible to the unaided eye, the golden blade was suddenly at the Dark Lord's throat. Harry leant forward, and hissed in Parseltongue,

"Do you know who this belonged to, Tom?"

He paused, meeting the blazing scarlet eyes, and then answered his own question, his voice a low hiss,

"Someone who doesn't like you very much."

He switched the blade so that the flat lay against the grey skin of Voldemort's throat. Pressing hard, he slid the flat along the Dark Lord's neck until the very tip lay just below the jutting chin. He let it pause there for a second, and then dropped his right arm to his side.