Chapter Eight - Sacrifice, Part I
8.1
My eyes fluttered half-open as I hung in the paralyzing void between nightmares and reality, unsure if what I was experiencing was real. I hardly had a second to comprehend that James was sprawled limply on the walkway, before curses began smashing into the compartment beside me.
"No! James!" I gasped, darting over to his stunned form while casting a Shield charm over my shoulder to protect us. I grabbed his wand from loose fingers and, unable to think of a more secure place, bit down on it lengthwise in an effort not to lose it. "Come on," I growled through the thin wood, lacing my free fingers with his and slowly but surely dragging him towards the closest compartment. The group of Ravenclaw Fifth Years within jumped up at our entrance, wands drawn, but when they saw who it was they scurried over to help tug James farther into shelter.
"Lily!" One of the girls, a Prefect, tugged on my arms as I spat out James' wand and tucked it into his pocket. I jumped, body trembling with adrenaline, as one of the two boys slammed the compartment door shut. "What's going on?"
"We're being attacked by Death Eaters, Martha," I said, my voice strained with the effort of controlling my fears. I knelt by James' side and hurriedly rolled him partly onto his back, trying to suppress chills at the sight of his blank eyes, partially open behind his cracked glasses. "Cast Shield charms around the compartment, and stunners through the gaps between. All according to plan, right, Martha?"
The girl took a breath but seemed heartened, recalling that James and I had discussed various contingency plans with the Prefects to be implemented by them, with our aide, if the students fell under attack. "Right." She turned to her friends, began to arrange them around the compartment, one casting Shield charms, the other shimming opening the compartment windows and firing stunners into the advancing Death Eaters.
"Look, most of the other compartments are doing it too!" yelled one of the fifth years with satisfaction, turning to look meaningfully at Martha for only a moment before he took careful aim on a Death Eater from where he was kneeling on the floor, peering cautiously through the window.
"Just keep it up!" I yelled as I stabilized James on his side, proud at their willingness to help and trying to bolster their courage. "I'll be with you in a moment…"
I turned my attention back to James. Grimacing, knowing that this wouldn't be a pleasant experience, I pointed my wand at his chest. "Rennervate." His eyes snapped open, and he gave me a groggy, shocked glance, trying to focus on my face from behind damaged lenses, before attempting to jump to his feet.
"Lily, Death Eaters-" he cried fervently, pulling the wand from his pocket, wanting to go fight. "Let me go," he commanded earnestly, struggling against my constraining grip, which was keeping him in a crouch below the windows.
"We know, we're handling it," I said, feigning calmness as I wrestled with him. My voice caught in my throat and ruined the façade. "Sit still for one second or-"
I leaned instinctively away from him as he abruptly fell to his hands and knees and spewed on the floor. The Ravenclaws cried out with worry, turning to look at him, but a gesture from me had them back at their posts.
"He's fine, his nervous system is just unsettled from awakening so quickly after being Stunned." Leaning forward in my haunches, I rested my hands briefly on James' shoulders as he heaved again, unable to stop his nausea but wanting to offer him support from my presence. I wrinkled my nose at the sound and smell of the vomit, trying not to sick up myself.
"Keep firing those charms," I added encouragingly to the students, raising my voice so they could hear me over the din. "You're doing wonderfully." They tossed me half-proud, half-nervous smiles as they slunk deeper into the shadows against the compartment walls, trying to stay out of sight.
Finally James' stomach settled, and I briefly ran my fingers through his hair, halfway cradling his head in my arms until he was able to sit back on his knees, his face somewhat pale. I raised my eyebrows at him in a silent I told you so, but was unable to mutter the words.
"That's the worst of it," he groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of a sleeve as we pulled each other to our feet. I met his bloodshot eyes with determination, hard, grim ghosts of smiles mirrored on our faces. "Now, we fight."
A cursory glance down the train showed that other Prefects had indeed rallied their compartments, but James darted between each cluster of students, dodging curses and slithering around Shield charms to give direction through the fray, trying to keep the students calm and needing to be in the thick of it, in the lead. But I hung back in the compartment, putting my Charms skills to use.
Where most students only used Defensive spells, all those Of Age fought to maim their attackers, to truly defend the train by ridding it of adversaries. Still, some curses slipped through to the train and students retreated, gasping and injured, back to the slight sanctuary of center of the compartments before mustering up the courage to face the onslaught once more. The sounds of students yelling spells and grunting with their efforts, of Death Eaters jeering, their curses crashing into the train, were overwhelming my senses; that clatter, coupled with the terror of battle, was enough to make me grind my teeth in determination and concentration, and I only hoped that the younger students would be able to stay motivated until the end.
And then the rear of the train was breached.
Martha's hand slipped from mine as I tried to prevent a Summoning charm from dragging her from the compartment through a newly-made hole in the wall, but the spell was too strong. Screaming and flailing wildly, a Death Eater caught her tightly around the waist. I had but raised my wand to jinx him, swearing loudly, when another Death Eater actually walked through the compartment door, finding a gap in the Fifth Years' shields as they stared, stunned, where Martha had disappeared.
"Ah, a Mudblood," he sneered through the thin white veneer of his mask. His beady eyes passed quickly over the two Ravenclaws left in the compartment, dismissing all three of us; the bulky man actually turned away from me, to look over his shoulder and at one of his companions, "She thinks she can stand up to us, she does."
I wanted to skewer him for his arrogant stupidity. Instead, I silently stunned him, preparing to hex whatever Death Eater might try to attack us next. "I know I can," I said grimly, anger momentarily outweighing my fear. I gestured for the two young men to come stand behind me, not wanting them to try anything rash; it was far too late for them to retreat and join the efforts of another compartment. One of them, thinking quickly, repaired the damaged compartment wall, giving us a modicum of protection against the Death Eaters that must be clustering around the caboose of the train.
I almost cursed James as he skidded into the compartment, dodging hexes and nearly tripping over the limp Death Eater in the doorway. "Lily," he sputtered, hurrying over to me, relief evident on his face. He had a gash along his forehead as though he'd been thrown forward in to something, the blood dripping into his eyes, mingling with sweat, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. "The Aurors are here-"
"If it isn't Potter?" Another Death Eater leaned into the doorway, tall and confident, stepping over his fallen comrade. His voice was gleefully cruel, sending a shiver down my spine. "What would Daddy do if you went missing?"
Behind me, one of the Ravenclaws gasped at the implications of the statement. James was still turning to face the Death Eater when I reached forward and grabbed him, hugging him against my chest, anchoring him to the spot as I flicked me wrist, flicking my wand to block the inevitable Summoning charm.
"Filthy Mudblood!" the Death Eater snarled as I blocked his spell and twisted James around so that he was behind me. Fierce determination was coursing through my veins; James could not be captured and used as leverage to force his father's hand, resulting in the inevitable release of captured Death Eaters.
"Just stun the girl, for Merlin's sake!" The voice wafted up from under the train, and I clenched my teeth at its cowardice, raising my wand. "Or kill her, just a Mudblood, innit?"
"Lily, get out of the way!" James snarled quickly, eyes set on the Death Eater, reaching forward and hooking an arm around my waist, forcing me aside and backwards so he could get a clear shot. "They won't kill me, but you…"
The Death Eater laughed almost lazily, and then, quicker than seemingly possible, blasted me with a curse while I was still moving aside. "Quite right, Potter…" I stumbled back against the splintered wall, the force of James' shove and the curse pushing me backwards. My head rammed against the wall before dropping limply to my chest; vaguely, I noticed a mat of blood rising from the painful gash across my sternum and chest and spilling over my torn clothing, could almost imagine the skin there rotting away, the curse eating at the once-healthy tissue beyond. Goosebumps popped out with a cool sweat on my skin as searing pain washed over me.
"Cold…" I gasped, slowly lifting my head to stare past an irate James to where the Death Eater had suddenly dropped to the ground to be replaced, impossibly, by an Auror who was slowly becoming more perceptible as his Disillusionment charm lifted. I was able to make him out just as I lost consciousness: tall, pale, and red-haired. His eyes widened at the sight of me. "Fabian…?"
8.2
I finally jerked completely from the incubus tormenting me, sitting up abruptly as I clutched at my chest, feeling through my thin gown to the layers of gauze and coarse bandages below. I leaned limply forward as a wave of dizziness hit me, closing my eyes with a hand pressed against my still-tender scalp until it passed.
The room was dark, but the sunlight making its way through a gap in the thick curtains of the window next to my bed revealed two other beds besides my own, both of them empty, and a lavatory. Gingerly, I lifted my arm and pushed open the window curtains, letting light stream into the room as best it could through the iced-over glass. Blinking rapidly, trying to let my eyes adjust to the mid-morning sun, I peered curiously at my surroundings.
A bouquet of bright chrysanthemums on the windowsill and several colorful, watchful portraits on the beige walls helped to lighten the stark, sterile atmosphere of what was clearly a hospital room, and a glance out of the window to the London streets below confirmed that I was at St. Mungo's. Blowing out a rather painful breath, I ran a hand through mussed hair, trying-and failing-to remember anything that had happened after I had blacked out on the train.
I had no idea how long I'd been laying in the hospital bed. Feeling disgusting, I eyed the door of the lavatory across the room, thinking I'd feel somewhat better if I could just splash some water on my face and perhaps rinse my mouth out. Aside from the inevitable pains from my chest, my face felt glowing warm and my movements seemed like vague, out-of-body experiences, but I was determined to make it across the room.
Slowly, feeling sluggish, I slid my bare feet over the edge of the bed, tested my weight and balance against the cold tile floor before pushing myself to my feet. After all, I told myself even as I swayed on the spot, there had been nothing wrong with my legs…
Two steps later I fell to the floor with a hoarse yell, my suddenly-weak body collapsing beneath me. The room's door burst open, and a pair of feet clattered into the room. Strong arms hooked under my shoulders and around my waist, and a moment later I was back in bed, gritting my teeth in frustration.
"Miss Evans," said the Healer, stepping back from the bed and quickly surveying my chart, one eyebrow raised quizzically at me. "Clearly, you need to stay in bed."
I squinted at the glaring lime green of the Healer's robes before meeting his lined face. His eyes were concerned, his gaze knowing, and I felt inexplicable trust for the man. "What happened?"
"Took a nasty hex across the chest last night," he stated matter-of-factly, replacing the chart on my bedside table and pulling out his wand. He waved it quickly over me to check my vitals, and I felt a warm tingle run through my body, radiating out from the marrow of my bones. "It ate away quite a bit of skin and tissue before we were able to stop its spread, and you lost a lot of blood. We've healed the damage to your skin, heart, and lungs, but it's going to take a few days before your respiratory and circulatory systems are back to one hundred percent. How do you feel?"
"Weak, feverish," I said simply, settling back against the pillows. "And my chest hurts when I breathe…"
The Healer nodded, adding something to my chart before turning for the door. "I'll send up a potion that should take care of any lingering effects from our treatment; it was rather extensive. With some rest and the potion regime, you should be able to go home in a day or two."
He left me to stare idly at my bouquet of flowers, a strange torrent of thoughts tumbling through my mind. I had almost died; I was terrified and yet I should have felt more afraid. Relief flooded through me, tinged with anxiety for my friends and family, and I realized that tears were dripping down my cheeks. As though knowledge of my tears encouraged more, I began to cry in earnest, releasing the indescribable force of my emotions until, suddenly, the tumult was gone, leaving a sort of empty peace in its wake.
Feeling foolish yet so much lighter-and glad a visitor hadn't been present, forcing me to suppress my emotions-I snuggled down into the covers, reaching out with a shaking hand to pick up my wand, which had been placed on the windowsill next to the bouquet. Bolstered simply by the feel of the familiar grain under my fingertips, I flipped open the card that was nestled against the flower vase, discovering that they had been sent by my parents. With a smile on my face, I eagerly read their accompanying letter-they hadn't been allowed to visit (too dangerous for them) but were eager for me to come home-before tearing into the letters from Emmeline and Alice, who told me that they, as well as the Marauders, had made it off of the train unscathed. Frank had added a post script to Alice's letter, encouraging me to rest up in order to heal faster-he knew from experience-as well as briefly describing the believed motivations behind the attack. James had sent me a copy of the Sunday Prophet, which contained a "fairly accurate" article about what had happened, and also a quick note promising that he'd visit as soon as the Healers let him.
Leaving the article until later, knowing that it would be far too unpleasant in my current state to dwell on innocent students being injured, kidnapped, and held as hostages to advance the Death Eater's cause, I closed my eyes, irresistible but troubled sleep rolling over me.
8.3
I was awakened some time later by a gentle prodding on my shoulder. Rolling over groggily, I met the grey eyes of a quiet, studious Gryffindor sixth year named Mary MacDonald, who was clad in a set of green robes slightly paler than those of a Healer, and who was staring sheepishly down at me.
"Lily," she said gently, proffering me a glass of what looked like pond scum. "I have your potion."
"Mary," I said, genuinely pleased to see someone from the Hogwarts Express who looked hale and happy. "It's good to see you."
She smiled. "Normally treating people I know from school is a little awkward," she said as she helped me to sit up. "But I'm happy to see you, too-the treatment last night was very tricky, one of the Healers described it to me."
"I guess you want to be a Healer, then?" I asked, accepting the potion from her and pulling a face at its sharp smell before closing my eyes and attempting to chug it.
"I do, I work here during the holidays for experience, rotating wards. They offered to let me take a few days off after what happened last night, but I wanted to help… it helps get it down if you plug your nose..." She paused for a moment as I continued to struggle with getting the potion down my throat. My eyes still closed, I eagerly nodded at her to continue before doing as she suggested. "Actually there aren't many student casualties. Yours was by far the worst; everyone else was released last night… though there are a few Aurors and Hit-Wizards still recuperating throughout the ward."
Gagging, I triumphantly handed the glass back to her, only a small amount of foam remaining across its lip. Mary took it from me, grinning apologetically.
"The potion will settle easier in your stomach if you eat something," she said, pushing a hinged tray, which had been laden with a light meal, to hang over my lap.
I looked at the bland food-mashed potatoes, peas, corn, and chicken-doubtfully. "Somehow I always expected that Magical hospital meals would be better than Muggle ones," I said, dutifully picking up my fork. With a laugh, Mary quickly examined my chart, noting something in the margin with her wand before tucking it back into her pocket.
"I'll be back with another potion in a few hours," she said, heading for the door. "You'll probably become pretty drowsy within the next half-hour or so, due to the potion. Still, let me know if you need anything, yeah?"
As I nodded in assent, she let herself out of the room, and through the tiny window in the door I watched her walk confidently away.
8.4
The potion did its work, forcing me to sleep and helping my body to heal and strengthen faster than it possibly could have on its own. Though to my dismay it made me sleep through Sunday visitation (Emmeline had intended on stopping by), after two doses of the disgusting quagmire I could walk unaided, feeling sturdy on my feet. My fever broke, breathing and moving my torso weren't as painful as they had been, and the angry, red scar running from my sternum across my heart faded somewhat. Amazed at the speed of this recovery and growing weary of my hospital room, I was eager to head home by the end of the day.
Feeling restless that night, letters to my family and friends already written and sent by owl, I slipped out of my room, walking quietly along the crisscrossing hallways with my wand clenched in a fist. It wasn't precisely dark-candlelight from rows of rooms diffused into the hall, and besides, the Healers still needed to see what they were doing and where they were going-but the ward had been dimmed significantly for the nighttime hours. I managed to find my way to the staircase, and after a little bit of huffing had climbed one flight of stairs, reaching the Fifth floor and the Visitor Tea Room.
It was distinctly brighter and cheerier here, though only the cashier, a woman maybe a year or two older than me was present, humming quietly to an upbeat number on the radio as she prepared a tray of tea to be sent to a room below. Her lively demeanor was refreshing after the hush below; seemingly happy for no other reason than she was alive and able-bodied, she grinned at me from around a piece of gum and turned down the Wizarding Wireless only long enough for me to order a hot butterbeer, before she was back to stirring sugar into the tea cups in time to the music.
Grinning in amusement, my spirits significantly lifted, I took my bottle to one of the tables along a long window that overlooked the city. The tune was catchy, and I found myself tapping my fingers to it as I took in the snowy view, the bright lights of commercial shops and speeding cars jumping out at my eyes against the black streets.
"Young lady, I do believe you're supposed to be in bed."
The voice, a sharp as a whip crack and yet kind, jerked me guiltily around to the door, where I expected to find an irate Healer. Instead, my eyes lit upon the vivacious old man I had noticed after Emmeline's trial, his white hair every bit as wispy and wild as it was then, his blue eyes intense. Now, however, he was clad in blue work robes rather than the purple of the Wizengamot, and tension lined his face.
James' father.
Unthinkingly, I somehow stood without swaying, but he motioned me back to my chair. I watched, nonplussed, as he ordered two butterbeers and came to join me.
"I must say, you certainly look much better now that you did last night," Mr. Potter said, popping the top off one of the butterbeers and taking a quick swig. "Though not as hale as you were at Miss Vance's hearing, eh?"
"You must have a good memory, Sir," I suggested slowly, unsure whether I should formally introduce myself since he so clearly knew who I was.
He grinned at me. "It does come in handy."
I spun the base of my butterbeer bottle idly on the table top, feeling suddenly shy about speaking to James' father for the first time without James there. I took a breath. Well, there was nothing for it but to make a good impression. I opened my mouth to address him, but he inadvertently cut me off; fortunately, it seemed as though my worth was already fixed into his head.
"I'd like to thank you, Lily, for saving my son on the train." His voice was low, grave, but his eyes sparkled at me through unshed tears. "I don't want to think on what would have happened if they tried to hold him ransom for my 'good behavior'."
I blushed, looking away from his face, embarrassed at seeing him so emotional; it always unsettled me when men nearly cried because I so seldom witness it. "I-I didn't save him-"
"James told me what happened: you dragged him into the compartment when he was Stunned and you could have taken shelter yourself. And then you willfully stood between him and a Death Eater. Call it what you may, but… I'm eternally grateful, especially after the recent loss of his mother."
"You're welcome, Sir..." A sober smile graced my face as I chanced a quick look at Mr. Potter, leaving my next thought unsaid. I'd do it again…
After a moment I coughed nervously and took a sip of my drink. Trying to break the awkward silence, I asked, "How are your people? The Hit-Wizards and Aurors from the train attack?"
"In a similar state as you," he answered, tilting his head at me. "They think they're ready to hit the lines again-they always do-when in reality they should still be in bed."
I flushed at the statement but grinned; for all his intensity and experiences, James' father had the same drawing confidence and charm about him as his son did. Only more matured, more forceful, I decided. If that was possible.
"Point taken, Mr. Potter," I said, taking a sip of my drink before standing and offering my hand by way of parting. He shook it as he stood, mirroring me. "I probably should be getting back in bed… will you let James know I'm in room 413?" I hesitated for a moment, biting my lower lip, before boldly adding, "Actually, is he visiting the Aurors with you? It'd be nice to see him."
"He knows your room number, Lily," said Mr. Potter gently, taking my arm and helping me over to the stairs as though he could sense that my legs were weakening, that the pain was slowly returning with every step. "But he also knows to trust my judgment, and I know how this goes: I've been around too many witches and wizards in the hospital because of too many Dark spells to take Healing for granted. He'll come see you when you've recovered enough to handle it, and not before."
"But I'm-" Suddenly my knees buckled, but he was ready-even waiting for it-and caught me under the arms, letting the extra butterbeer bottle clatter to the floor. I coughed wetly after a painful spasm in my lungs, covering my mouth with my sleeve, and when I lowered my arm the sleeve was sprayed by blood. Every breath became a torment.
"Your body is running purely off of the potion-which is wearing off-while it devotes everything else to healing itself," explained Mr. Potter as we slowly made our way across the small lobby and to the stairwell. "Don't panic, you'll be fine once you're back in bed."
I nodded, trying to take shallow breaths to reduce the sting in my lungs. Black dots began forming in the periphery of my vision. "I feel like I'm going to pass out," I said quietly, determined not to do so.
"I know," he replied simply as we reached the first stair. "Here, sit for a moment."
He helped settle me down against the railing, and I covered my face with my wand-free hand, embarrassed and dizzy. Slowly, the fuzz in my head began to clear. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"
"Well, now you know." Mr. Potter summoned the dropped butterbeer bottle from the floor and handed it to me. As if he bought an extra because he knew I was going to need it, I thought wonderingly. Wordlessly, I fumbled with the cap, managing to open it and take a few sips. For once I barely tasted the thick, warm flavor of the drink, but I did feel myself strengthening slightly from its influence. "Can you walk, or do I need to levitate you?"
I rolled my eyes at the familiar half-serious, half-joking tone. Definitely a Potter trait, that, I thought dryly as I tilted back my head to finish the bottle.
"I can walk," I finally said, gritting my teeth and steeling myself for the action. Looking up into Mr. Potter's blue eyes-his face so resembling his son's that the difference in the color of his gaze was startling-I nodded that I was ready. His bony grip tightened on my arm as he practically pulled me to my feet and we slowly, carefully, descended the stairs.
I half-hoped to coincidentally run into James during the journey back to my room, but by the time we'd wound through the catacomb of corridors and made it back to my room, I was nearly too weak to do anything other than climb into bed. Mr. Potter saw that I was settled, wand by my side, and drew my curtains against the city lights before retreating quietly to the door.
"Sleep well, Lily Evans," he bade me with a knowing, fatherly smile, extinguishing the candles in my room with a flick of his wand. "You'll feel better in the morning." And somehow, I knew that it would be true. I tried to smile back at him, thankful for his assistance and the comforting knowledge that someone trustworthy was on the floor, but sleep overtook me before he had even closed the door.
Sleep, and dreams of his son.
8.5
I slept hard that night and hardly remembered my dreams when I awoke, though I sensed that they had been pleasant for once. Upon awakening I was rearing to go, feeling so full of energy that I felt I might explode if forced to remain in bed all day.
"Right then," said Mary with a mischievous grin when I expressed these sentiments to her shortly after lunch. "I'm glad you're up to the challenge."
It seemed that the Healers thought I was improved as well, but needed me to pass a battery of physicals to be certain that it was safe for me to leave the hospital. After having me fill out a thorough form for their records-I was allergic to pollen and some types of mold; I had a history of heart disease on my father's side; no, I did not use drugs; yes, I consumed alcohol, though not regularly; no, I was not sexually active, coital or orally-though perhaps, I thought with a blush as I marked "no" on the parchment, not for much longer-Mary put me through my paces. She taxed my body seemingly brutally, though I would have had no problems with the exercises a week beforehand, making me skip rope for minutes on end before doing sets of sit ups, pushups, and jumping jacks, testing to see how far I could push my body and how my circulatory and respiratory systems would function under stress.
"You've done really well, Lily," she appraised when we'd finished, marking my performance on my chart. "Better than the Healers expected… they might let you go home today, provided you swear to take it easy for a few days."
"I got a good night's sleep," I laughed, pushing a lock of sweaty hair from my equally damp face as I twisted my torso slowly, trying to work out the few remaining kinks in my back.
"I'm afraid you might still feel pain around your chest for a few days," warned Mary, absently twiddling with the end of her brunette plait as though trying to distract herself from empathetic pain. "And that scar will remain for some time…"
I shrugged and nodded curtly, not unconcernedly but accepting of the facts. "Lesson learned."
She raised her eyebrows at me, eyes intent. I knew she was dying to ask what I had learned, but was considerate enough of my experiences not to pry. I looked sidelong at her, considering my words for a time, before slowly speaking. "It's worth nothing if you won't give everything."
"What's worth nothing?"
"The 'what' is up to you." Hazel eyes flashed into my mind; my stomached swooped, blood heated, but then they were gone, replaced by the almost-exhilarating terror of fighting for my life and my friends and for what I believe in, backed by a determined hope for the future.
A smile spread across my face as I finally found the word which encompassed my thoughts. "For me… it's Hope."
8.6
The Healers did let me go home that afternoon, but, to my disappointment, I didn't see James before I left. I even dawdled while carefully placing my flowers, letters, and two sealed doses of potion into my trunk, remembering his promise to visit and his father's promise to let him. Yet finally, still with no sign of a Potter, I shrunk my trunk and stuck it into my coat pocket, pulled on my snow boots, and checked out of the hospital. My face burned as the receptionist informed me that James' father had paid for my stay, and though he had done it out of gratitude, I made a promise to myself to one day pay him back.
The winter air-though not as harsh as it was at Hogwarts-still bit at my cheeks and nose viciously through my scarf, slicing through my coat as if it didn't exist. I tramped through the slush and ice on the city sidewalks quickly, searching for a particular disused alleyway from which to Disapparate to a park near my home.
I had just reached the mouth of the alleyway when a shout from behind brought me up short.
"Oy, Lily!"
Heart racing, I spun around, almost bringing my wand to bear on the lanky person a half-block away, narrowly sliding between oncoming pedestrians in his haste to reach me, before recognizing the dark coat, noting the fly-away black hair, and realizing that it was James.
Instinctively, I began grinning like an idiot, surprised and happy to see him at last, stepping forward to meet him. It occurred to me, while we were embracing, each with an eye on the Muggles passing by, that I should have tested him, forcing this man to prove that he really was James Potter. But before I could pose a question to him, he pulled out of the hug long enough to whisper into my ear.
"Don't worry, I'm the real James," he laughed softly, his breath warm against my cheek. "Your favorite Chocolate Frog card is Agrippa, because the name reminds you of the history lessons you so loved in primary school." He grinned as I rolled my eyes at the fact, but he wasn't finished. "And, I know that you have three freckles that form a perfect triangle the size of my palm, right here…"
One gloved hand on my waist, he slid the other up my spine until it rested just above my shoulder blades at the nape of my neck, over the group of freckles. With this support, I leaned back to appraise the hazel eyes that had haunted my dreams the previous night.
"I never doubted who you are," I said honestly, knowing in my gut that I'd be able to sense the difference between him and an imposter. Pulse racing at the feel of his hands pressing onto me, I nearly leaned in to kiss him, but was reluctant to do so in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. He seemed to understand, and let me guide him by the hand into the alley.
"I'm sorry I didn't visit," he said sincerely as we leaned nonchalantly against the brick alley wall, waiting for a large pack of Muggles to pass by. "But I only just found out that you'd gone."
"I'm sure you would have as soon as father let you," I assured him, eying the mouth of the ally for a break in which to Apparate. And then, the words just slipping out of my mouth, I added, "Will you come for dinner tonight?"
I immediately began blushing, but he laughed and tossed me a wink.
"I thought you'd never ask."
I managed to recover my composure enough to snort at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Potter," I jested, peering around the corner of the building we were leaning against, checking to make sure we wouldn't be seen disappearing. "Over desert, you get to help me answer my parents' questions about the war."
His eyes widened in surprise, but I never gave him a chance to respond. Grinning triumphantly-and a bit mischievously-I grabbed his hands and turned on the spot, transporting the two of us out of London.
"You little vixen!" James exclaimed unbelievingly after we appeared in a wooded area surrounding the small park and playground a block away from my house. Through the dim moonlight managing to penetrate a thin layer of clouds, I could tell that he wasn't put out at my demand, not exactly, but he did swipe a hand through his hair in agitated surprise. "You really know how to proposition a bloke, don't you?"
The faint squeaking of the nearby swing set forestalled my reply as I pulled out my wand and waded through ankle-deep snow to lean against the thick trunk of one of the trees at the fringe of the wood, hiding behind it as I tried to see through the fading light to the playground beyond. My thoughts immediately jumped to the fairly likely presence of Snape, and I strained to double-check that no one threatening was nearby.
James followed, crunching through the snow behind me. His breath was warm against my neck as he brushed against my back, looking over the top of my head toward the recently-vacated swings.
"It was only a child, or the wind," he said quietly, placing his hand atop my wand hand as though to calm me. "We're alone out here." A moment later his lips and fingertips softly brushed the back of my neck under my scarf, sending chills down my spine. Letting him work the fingers of his other hand between mine, flattening my palm and trapping my wand between our hands and the rough bark of the tree, I turned my head towards his with a sigh, our lips eagerly meeting.
It suddenly hit me that James could have been injured-had been Stunned and had been personally targeted-during the attack, and tears stung my eyes as I kissed him more fiercely, trying to impress upon him the weight of my feelings for him.
He responded with enthusiasm; turning completely into me, eyes closed with passion, James pressed me gently into the tree as he kissed me, his body fleche against mine, running the fingers of his wand hand through my hair, his other hand still clasped with mine. My nerves danced, and, eager for more of him, I slipped my hand from his and slid my hands under his jacket and shirt, relishing the warmth of his skin as I gently wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him still closer to me.
The snogging grew more heated before James and I both seemed to sense that we were beginning to get carried away; the kiss tapered off, neither of us wanting to part but both of us knowing that we weren't safe until we were inside. Leaning down so that our foreheads tilted against each other, a silent promise to continue this reunion later, James lightly cupped my face in his hands and met my eyes as he whispered, almost shyly, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't healed."
Touched, tears nearly sprang back into my eyes, and I reached out idly to stroke the hair at the base of his neck, not wanting him to see how affected I was by the comment. "You'd go on fighting, I expect."
He sighed, sounding almost hopeless. "But it would have been my fault-"
His fingers actually trembled on my cheek, and I brushed a kiss onto his lips to stem his words, unwilling to get drawn into a never-ending debate over our mutual determination to keep the other from harm by sacrificing our own self. It was true of both of us as-we both knew it, and knew it was pointless to try to talk the other one out of it.
"We were just watching each other's backs, yeah?" I gave him a reassuring hug, burying my face in his jacket. His arms around me felt like a shield from the rest of the world, and I sunk, comforted, into his embrace. "Like we promised?"
He hesitated a moment before I felt him nod, still not happy that I wouldn't promise not to try to protect him. I pulled slowly away from him, composing myself, my wand once again secure in my grip.
"Come on," I whispered insistently, pulling lightly at his fingers until he began to follow me. I tossed an anxious look over my shoulder, looking past the swing set to where Spinner's End wove through the trees and over the small river at the far edge of the park. Shivering, I added, "Let's get out of this cold."
8.7
My parents seemed to like James from the start-not only was he a full-blooded Wizard (whose reputation for mischief had not followed him home) and that amazed my parents in itself, but they were impressed by his position as my fellow Head, a Gryffindor, and Captain of the House Quidditch team to boot. Oh, my father eyed him in the wary way that fathers do when daughters first bring home a boy, but his initial concerns melted when he noticed how respectful James acted toward myself and Mum, the outrageous arrogance of his younger years matured into self-confidence.
They listened when we spoke of the war, and nervously asked questions about the protective wards I was eager to set over the house. They were frightened, certainly, finally realizing after I had been hospitalized that the horrible things going on in England could and certainly might happen to them or their daughters, but knew they could really do nothing about the war except hope for it to end.
Petunia, however, scoffed at our warnings, as though ignoring the problem would make it go away. When it came to James, the more she found out about his life in the Wizarding world, the less she seemed to want to do with him. Her repulsion teetered over the edge of rudeness, and it took all my self control not to slap her every time she opened her mouth.
"It's a dark time," concluded James gravely, intently eyeing my parents after Petunia abruptly excused herself, stating with a pointed look at me that she needed to recount her wedding RSVPs. "But the point is that your daughter is a very gifted Witch, and there are a lot of us fighting back, determined to see that the Darkness doesn't spread."
"And you're going to put protective spells around the house?" my dad asked, talking around the stem of his wooden pipe. I nodded confidently, trying to assuage his fear. There was, after all, nothing he could do to help this particular war effort. I could see the strain of helplessness in his eyes.
Placing my plate of half-eaten lemon meringue pie on the sitting room table, I laid a hand on James' arm to still his tongue before turning to face my parents earnestly. "I recruited James to help keep watch at the wedding, just in case, though the chances of something happening are small…" I trailed off, keeping my face blank as I lied, hoping my parents wouldn't pick up on it.
When the conversation was over and my parents had headed upstairs to get ready for bed, muttering to themselves, I saw James to the door.
"Thank you," I whispered, watching him pull on his boots and wrap a scarf around his neck over his jacket, my arms crossed to ward away the cold seeping under the door. "You made that easier…"
"Anything for you, Lily… though the wedding would actually be safer if I wasn't there," he grinned, before hesitating and pulling something out of his pockets. "Dad says I should lie low for a while, until the Death Eaters get kidnapping me out of their heads," he quipped as he stood, pressing a slip of parchment into my hands before wrapping his arms around me and talking into my hair. "The cottage and grounds have been put under the Fidelius charm for the time being… but this is the address, if you'd like to visit."
I nodded into his chest, squeezing him hard and breathing in the smell of him, knowing I wouldn't be able to see or touch him for several days. "It's going to be crazy around here with Christmas and the wedding coming up, but I'll try visit within the week. Write me."
We kissed briefly before James pulled away, not wishing to delay the inevitable parting. Standing barefoot on the icy back porch, I watched him stride confidently across the yard until he had vanished behind a curtain of snow. The silence of the night was broken only by the shush of falling snow; even his footfalls had faded and I remained, staring after him.
I felt jumpy, as though I had forgotten to do something very important. I stared anxiously into the darkness for another moment-what if something happened to him before I saw him again? What if he was captured… or worse?-before, clenching my wand but clad only in a long-sleeved shirt and the pajama bottoms I had changed into for comfort, I sprang into the snow, crunching my way loudly to the edge of the unfenced backyard.
"Wait, James!" I called, my feet already numb with the cold, half-falling into the snow as I pressed forward. Snowflakes pelted my face and soaked through my thin clothing, but I momentarily ignored the cold. "James!"
He materialized abruptly out of the darkness and caught me as I very nearly fell again. "Lily, what's wrong?" he asked, whipping out his wand, his body loose, ready to react to the first sign of danger. His eyes finished a quick scan of the yard before meeting my own, worried. After he realized there was no immediate threat, a hand nervously shot through his hair, dislodging the snowflakes that had landed there. "What happened?"
"I couldn't let you go," I muttered, shifting my weight from foot to foot in an attempt to ward off the cold. Grinning at him, knowing I seemed foolish but not caring, I began to blush but kept my eyes boring into his. I had never given it thought before, but now a realization occurred to me with such force it was like I'd known it for some time; I felt the certainty of my feelings swelling in every particle of my soul, overflowing into my body until they had to be released. Trembling, not due to the cold but caused instead by adrenaline and hope, I continued. "I couldn't let you leave without telling you that I love you."