November 18, 1978
The November rains had politely excused themselves just in time for Saturday. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were in close contention for the House Cup, and James was mentally preparing himself as he normally did before particularly important games.
Gather food for big lunch. Check. Eat very little. Check.
"This your game plan, then, Prongs?" asked Sirius around a mouthful of chicken. "Eat up. I don't want our Seeker to keel over or anything."
"It really would be best, James," added a very pale Remus. His time of the month must be coming up, James reasoned. Wait...
He appeased his friends with a few bites, chewing forcefully on some roast beef, and was grateful when Sirius suggested they change into their Quidditch robes.
"I'll meet you lot at the Pitch," James told them, ignoring Sirius's rude gesture.
"Really Sirius!" he heard Remus say as the two disappeared from the Great Hall.
James wanted a few moments' peace more than anything. Earlier that day, he'd had a very disquieting confrontation with Lily in the Potions classrooms; his mind was preoccupied more than ever, and he wanted to pick her brain for ideas.
"Are you planning to pursue this, then, after school?" James had asked her, interrupting a rather bland explanation of the properties of sopohorous in the Draught of Living Death.
"I don't know," she had replied vaguely, trying to change the subject by pointing to a recipe in the Potions text.
"You can do anything you fancy, Lily."
"What did you just call me?" she blurted out, her face turning quite red. "Never mind! You're one to speak, Potter. You can do anything, but you just don't seem to set your heart to anything."
"I want to be an Auror," he said firmly, feeling the frustration rising in his cheeks. "Why do you think I suffer through these remedial Potions lessons?"
"I don't believe I know," Lily countered suggestively. "I've always been under the impression they were just another meaningless attempt at me."
"That's not true," said James unconvincingly, a little hurt.
"You can be the best Auror out there, Potter, if you'll only set your mind to it. Stop wreaking havoc and mass destruction around the grounds with your ridiculous friends. Stop giving only half of your efforts to everything. The Auror selection is very competitive, and you'll need top marks on your N.E.W.Ts this term if you have any hope of..."
"Is this little pep talk supposed to be inspiring?" James spat, unable to absorb her words any longer. "I've got Quidditch in an hour, and I can tell you I'll give more than just half of me to that."
"Perhaps you should be a professional Quidditch player, then," Lily suggested. James didn't know whether or not to count her bright tone as a mockery, but gave her the benefit of the doubt anyway.
"You should come for a spell. You never do."
"I'm supposed to stay here until nightfall," she answered. James sniffed and turned away. "But I don't think anyone will show. Probably not, no."
"You'll come talk to me after the match?" he asked hopefully.
"I suppose, yes. If I go," Lily had added hastily before James left the Potions dungeon and found his friends in the Great Hall for his pretend feast.
He'd thought vaguely about what she'd said, and genuinely wanted to discuss his options with her because her lecture had dimmed his self-confidence. He didn't like her false impression of him, and was determined to prove himself otherwise.
However, that idea was soon scrapped when he realized there were only five minutes before he had to see the first arrivals into the Quidditch locker rooms and discuss their strategies.
"This Ravenclaw team," he told them a few minutes later in his most serious tone, "has developed several plays that are designed to trick the opposition. I can assure you we will face formations we've never seen; they are more prepared to win than they've ever been. But where there's a group, there is a system. We will discover a way to beat this system. We are talented enough to do that." With that, James listed off a series of tasks to individual players, trying to be as encouraging as possible while still maintaining a firm sense of leadership.
As soon as the Quaffle was released, the game took off in a whirlwind. As James predicted, the Ravenclaw captain, Margot Fraudley, had devised complicated strategies that were difficult to catch on to, but eventually the Gryffindors developed an effective defensive rhythm.
Both teams had one hundred and sixty points when James sighted the Golden Snitch, which glimmered brightly even against the dull gray sky. He plunged downward, checking for signs of Rich Justice, the brawny but incredibly quick Ravenclaw Seeker.
Bingo. He spotted Justice's black robes approaching him with tremendous speed and quickly adjusted his speed, keeping a careful eye on the Snitch's path.
"Lookie, Potty. I'm going to beat you," howled Justice against the whistling wind.
"Watch me, Wanker," James replied coolly, blazing a fierce trail to the target, which was rapidly ascending to the clouds. Both players were level with the golden, winged ball. James stood atop his broom and made a lunge for the Snitch, using his long spindly arms to his advantage.
He overcompensated by at least half a foot, but at the exact moment he managed to clasp the cold metal Snitch in his left hand, Justice slammed into James' knees, careening him forward and greatly disturbing the last semblances of balance he had managed. As he plunged forward, he grasped the tip of his broom in his right hand and pulled it toward his body, but he was already too late.
Before he had time to think about it, James' left side had slammed into the earth, meeting it with the sound of breaking bones and splintering wood. The crowd emitted a collective gasp, and dizzying pain shot through James' entire left arm.
"Potter has caught the Snitch!" the announced yelled. "Gryffindor wins!"
One attempt to get to his feet failed, and he sank back onto the ground with a deep grimace. He huddled protectively over his arm, too afraid to move from this awkward spot.
"JAMES!" Sirius yelled, reaching the ground and running to his friend's side, but Professor Dumbledore had arrived first.
"Where does it hurt, my boy?"
"My arm," he groaned.
"Fetch Madam Pomfrey with haste, Mr. Black," Dumbledore told Sirius, who was reluctant to leave James, but leapt from the ground and ran to the castle as quickly as he could.
Dumbledore broke up the abundant crowd that had now formed, but James could hear the worried questions of a familiar voice.
"Yes, he'll be quite alright, Miss Evans. And I'd strongly advise you not to go any further," said Dumbledore.
James moved his head gingerly, trying to see her, and pain seared through his arm from his elbow to his shoulder. He cried out loudly and heard Lily gasp.
Madam Pomfrey was gliding to the Quidditch pitch as quickly as possible, and James felt a bit of comfort. She had fixed much worse injuries before and could relieve his pain in no time.
"Minimovimento," she blared quickly. James felt his body stiffen, but the pain was as intense as ever. "We're going to turn you over and see how bad it is," she told him.
Dumbledore followed instructions, rotating his student's body so he was facing the sky, starting slowly with his hips. James gasped and gritted his teeth. His arm was hanging from his body at an awkward angle, his shoulder dislocated, and his upper arm appeared broken in at least one place. But worst of all, James had landed on his broom and its jagged wooden edge was embedded into his shoulder. Fortunately, he was in too much pain to turn and look at his arm.
If he could see what I see right now, Sirius suspected, he'd faint dead away.
The grayish glow of the sky was blinding alongside the fierce sensation. As James' vision cleared, he saw Dumbledore, Sirius, Professor McGonagall, and Lily standing in the distance, watching him gravely as if he were being lowered into his burial plot. Luckily Sirius was too solemn to make any rude comments about Lily's concern, but James knew they'd come eventually.
"How bad is it?" he asked, his mouth incredibly dry.
Madam Pomfrey cast a veiled glance to Dumbledore, who whispered something in Sirius' ear.
Sirius crept across to pitch to James' right side and picked up his hand. In one quick motion, Sirius bit into James' hand while Madam Pomfrey yanked the broom from James' skin.
Cursing loudly, James sat up, plunged his good hand into his robes, and pointed his wand straight at Sirius with a menacing look on his face. The snarl quickly turned to pain, and he clutched at his left side.
"Hrmph," said Madam Pomfrey, who appeared frustrated enough to abandon her appraisal.
Diving away from the wand's range, Sirius shook his head. "James, you've still got the Snitch. You can let it go now, mate; we've already won."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, and he bent to retrieve the Snitch. Lily took it from him, examining its smooth surface, and pocketed it in her robes for safekeeping.
"We should probably move him to the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey pronounced. "He'll need a more advanced series of spells to treat this combination of injuries." She assisted James, who by this time was rather dazed. Using a binding charm, she wrapped the limp arm securely to the body, and Dumbledore and Sirius were able to lift him to his feet. James grimaced and clutched his arm tightly, trying to keep it completely immobilized as he walked.
"Will it hurt him terribly?" Lily wondered, her eyes glazed with concern. Her tone shifted, "Out of completely professional curiosity, of course."
"Does mediwizardry fascinate you, Miss Evans?" Madam Pomfrey inquired with great interest.
Lily nodded.
"You are perfectly welcome to observe Mr. Potter's treatment, if he consents."
They looked to James for approval.
"Well...of course...I mean...I don't mind," James stammered.
"Erm...right, then," Lily told Madam Pomfrey, keeping her carefully neutral green eyes away from James.
Sirius, who was secretly terrified of hospitals, parted ways with them and headed to the Gryffindor common room, promising to bring James his favorite sweets as soon as he could. He cast James a sly look that darted in Lily's direction subtly. James was too subdued to react, absently allowing Madam Pomfrey to lead him to the hospital wing.
By the time they reached the hospital wing, Professor Dumbledore had also politely excused himself, and Madam Pomfrey bewitched one of the beds to an incline to keep as much pressure off of James' injured shoulder as possible. She listed off several chemicals and elements, and Lily made herself useful by retrieving them from the hospital wing's impressive stores.
Inside the vault-like room, Lily noticed remedies for a variety of illnesses, from hair removal serum to poison antidote to extra limb extraction potions. She quickly located an antiseptic potion, a sleeping draught, and placed a thick volume of pain-relieving spells in the crook of her arm for good measure.
Madam Pomfrey had removed the makeshift sling, and James had cried out in pain and passed out promptly. The crimson sleeve of his Gryffindor Quidditch robes that Madam Pomfrey had torn off was soaked with blood and sweat.
"You'll need to remove his robes," Madam Pomfrey instructed, busying herself in front of a shiny gray cauldron.
"Excuse me?" Lily asked, biting her lip nervously.
Madam Pomfrey regarded her with impatience. "We need to assess the injury properly. Clothing doesn't provide sufficient evidence for a prognosis."
"Right. We'll never know how to treat him if we can't see how badly it's broken." Her hands shaking, Lily unbuckled the armor from around his wrists and let them clatter to floor. Then she removed his right arm from its sleeve and pulled the fabric over his head. The delicate skin of her fingers brushed the surprisingly soft skin of his chest, and she jerked her hand back, feeling a warm blush creep across her cheeks.
James stirred, his eyes fluttering open for a moment, and his right arm reached up toward Lily. She looked down at him sympathetically and moved his hair out of his face. He moaned and squeezed his eyes closed. She finished the task, taking care not to disturb the shoulder.
"Very well, Miss Evans. Only next time, there's a spell for this. There's a spell for everything. You're allowed to employ the finer benefits of wizardry."
"Yes, Madam."
Lily watched the seasoned woman work on the arm, which was misshapen and caked with dry blood. The sight of it turned her stomach, and she nearly had to sit down on the edge of his bed to control herself.
"Yes, he's very fortunate to be unconscious right now. We need to extract any additional shards of wood from his arm, which is why a simple mending charm wasn't called for in the first place. See here, Miss Evans? This bone should connect here, and this bit should obviously be much more straight."
"Right."
The potion began to boil, and Madam Pomfrey glided to the cauldron and added some wings from a clear vial. The addition warranted a crisp sizzle, and Madam Pomfrey satisfactorily stirred the concoction.
Lily watched James' sleeping form, from his scrunched eyelids to his wide jaw line, all the way to his strong shoulders and muscular chest. And back to his full peach lips. She looked away, ashamed of her behavior. She'd never even consider studying him in this manner when he was awake. Perhaps that's because his mouth would be moving, then, she chortled to herself.
"Miss Evans!" Madam Pomfrey called shrilly, snapping Lily out of her momentary daze. "I asked you if you've fetched the Sleeping Draught."
"Oh, yes Madam Pomfrey. Sorry." She fulfilled the older woman's request.
"A mediwitch must always have her head collected."
Perhaps, Lily thought wistfully, mediwizardry just wasn't her forte, then.
********************
James awakened late the next morning, thin stands of sunlight peering through the drawn draperies. The pain in his left side had reduced to a dull ache, and his arm was firmly secured to his body with a flexible cloth wrap. Someone, he realized, had changed him into his pyjamas, and his Quidditch robes were folded neatly on a chair beside his bed.
The bedside table to his right was filled with all kinds of sweets, cards, and even a strange-looking plant. Only Frank Longbottom, he chuckled.
"Oy, Mr. Potter. You're awake," Madam Pomfrey said, whisking to his bedside immediately. "Scourgify." The bandages around his upper arm were a sterile white once more. "You've had many visitors."
"Oh?"
"Yes, your Gryffindor friends and that mouse of a boy Pettigrew have poked their heads in several times. Rest, I told them! Rest is what you need! And a good meal!" She retrieved her wand from the folds of her robe and levitated a steaming plate in his direction.
James' mouth watered promptly when he saw the steak pies and candied yams collected upon the plate.
"Miss Evans also brought these."
"Mi-Miss Evans?" A tray full of Snitch-shaped pumpkin cookies, his favorite, was resting on the table to his left. His heart swelled. Lily.
"She was here most of the night, assisting me. She'll make a fine mediwitch when she learns to focus on the task at hand," Madam Pomfrey explained.
"Yes," James mumbled absently, thinking about the irony of Madam Pomfrey's statement. Hadn't Lily spoke the same words about him the day before?
Just then, Peter, Sirius, and Remus burst through the double doors of the hospital wing, saw the stern look on Madam Pomfrey's face, and took a couple of timid steps back, trying a more tactful approach.
"Very well," she said reluctantly. "He's awake."
"You're looking much better today," said Remus.
Sirius, who still looked rather uncomfortable, smirked in disbelief. "I suppose he looks a bit better today than he normally does. Did good ole' Evans sneak a bit of Beautifying Potion in the mix?"
"Knock it off, Pads," James said, turning his face to the table of goodies so the others wouldn't see him blush. As he reached over and selected a Chocolate Frog, Peter began a long list of things he'd accomplished.
"I stayed up all night finishing your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, and Lily Evans even agreed to glance over your Potions assignment during remedial lessons this afternoon. And I've sent your laundry things down to the dungeons for a go with the house elves, tidied up the dormitory, and..."
"Really, Wormtail. That wasn't necessary," James broke in around a mouthful of chocolate. "Thank you, though," he added.
Peter smiled widely and dipped his head a bit. Sirius was looking at him as if he were mad and Remus was subtly elbowing the former in the ribs, possibly urging him to hold his tongue. Luckily, the tray of biscuits caught Sirius' attention, and he inquired about them immediately.
"They smell just like the ones your Mum makes just before we go back for term," he said. "She sent those, then?"
"No, er, Lil-Lily made them-for me."
"Why don't you just marry her then?" Sirius exclaimed, reaching across James' bed for a sample. "If you weren't strapped in this bed, I'd have half a mind to knock some sense into you, you thick git."
"You certainly don't have any problem snogging every girl in sight!" James retorted. "And let my biscuits alone!"
Madam Pomfrey returned and angrily shooed the visitors from the room. "How could you have let them upset him with this commotion? Absurd!" she told Remus, who was wringing his hands in shame. He generally took his unwritten responsibility for his friends very seriously, and when someone reprimanded him for their behavior, he felt chagrined.
The trio left the hospital wing, and James fell into a food-induced sleep, unaware that a few strategically-placed, tasteless potions had laced his meal.
********************
James awakened to a rustling about the soft white sheets that covered him. He brought his right hand over the source, a pair of gentle hands that were working carefully to smooth the bedding. Lily, who hadn't expected him to wake, gasped and pulled her hands back immediately, startled.
"Oh, I didn't think you were awake," she said. "How does it feel? Are you in a lot of pain?"
Was Lily Evans, the witch who had made the recent events of his life so miserable yet wonderful, actually worried about him?
"It's better, I s'pose," he replied, cocking his head to one side nonchalantly. "Still hurts a bit."
He smiled. Lily noticed his hazel eyes were warm with affection and fatigue.
"Thank you for doing this," he said, flexing the fingers of his right hand in her direction. He saw her eyes dart toward his hand for an instant - a very brief instant - but the look and temptation were still there. "I couldn't have asked for a better sight to wake up to."
She cleared her throat, nervous. "Madam Pomfrey's asked me to check your wounds. I'll, erm, I'll do that now."
"Don't be nervous. I trust you."
"Right then. I'll need you to, er..."
James wordlessly unbuttoned his pyjama top, and Lily helped him to slip his arms through the sleeves.
Don't stare, Lily. Don't stare, Lily, she repeated to herself as she moved to his left side and drew her wand. Her hand shook a little as she recited the incantation, but the result was flawless. The bandages unwound and deposited themselves into the rubbish bin.
The shoulder was still significantly swollen but at least retained some semblance of its normal shape. A fizzy green potion sealed the jagged wound closed. As she prodded it gently, Lily noted that the skin around the site seemed much more strong and normal than it had the previous day.
"Am I hurting you?"
"Not a bit." James sat as still as possible as she examined his arm, watching her lovely green eyes as they reflected her curiosity, furrowed with concentration, and narrowed with concern. He could sense that something had changed between them at that point.
In the same manner as Madam Pomfrey had done before, a modified Scourgify produced a brand new set of bandages.
"There," Lily said. "Almost as good as new." She turned to scrub her hands, but James stopped her.
"You know, I've thought a lot about what you said."
"Oh. Is that so?"
"You're right, Lily. But I'm going to change, I promise. I'll study and pay attention in class, and.."
"No, James! I should never had said those things. If anything I was just jealous that you put forth so little effort and somehow manage to do as well as me when I've worked so hard."
"But you were raised a Muggle. You've come so far. Everyone knows you're the brightest witch Hogwarts has ever seen."
Lily blushed. "You know, Potter. You're not so bad. If you'd just stop terrorizing poor Severus..."
James leaned back against his pillow and squeezed his eyes closed. "If you only heard the terrible things he says about you once you've stormed off in a fit, you wouldn't be as defensive of him."
"I know he acts the typical Slytherin, but there's just something about him..."
All air and warmth left James' surroundings at the distant look in Lily's eyes. This shattered his almost certainty. "Do you love him, then?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Lily replied, wringing her hands in her lap, "Some part of me does. He was the first person I met on the Express, the first wizard I ever came into contact with. He's always been like a brother to me since then. Yes, it hurts when he says those things, but can you see why it's hard for me to hate him?"
Relief washed over James and he exhaled deeply. "Yes. I will try to avoid any unpleasantries with him."
"Thank you," she said.
"Though I can't speak for Sirius on the matter," James said solemnly.
"That's all I ask for."
James had come to feel completely relaxed with her, but he still wondered why she had taken the sudden interest in mediwizardry and followed him to this hospital bed. "Why are you here right now when you could be anywhere else?"
Their eyes met and held. The expected excuse about fascination with mediwizardry never left Lily's mouth. James' hand extended to her, and this time, she squeezed it in return. Her cheeks pinked, but her eyes remained set on his peacefully.
The wide, token smile spread across James' lips. He tightened his grasp on her hand and pulled her close to him. They silently searched each other's faces for a moment before their lips brushed for the tender first time.
"So that's why."