Chapter Seventeen: The Sick Bed
Lily could hear voices near here, but she was too tired to open her eyes. She just prayed that they were friendly voices and not those of people wishing to harm her. Her body felt like it was on fire, and she knew the last of the amnesia potion was finally leaving her body. She fought the urge to gasp or cry as all of the old emotions washed over her in a wave of new, fresh agony. For a moment she contemplated begging for more potions, something to make her heart stop pounding, anything.
She remained still and fought to listen to the whispered voices that seemed to be getting closer. She shifted under the weight of the blanket, sweat beading on her forehead. She could feel the hospital gown sticking to her, and the pain of the emotion was easily felt in the heat that seemed to be searing her from the inside. She wanted to call out, a cry in the back of her throat, waiting to escape.
"Shh," she heard someone say and she nearly screamed out from the pain and terror of it. She nearly recognized the person, and her heart clenched hard, a bath of icy water flooded her, followed by the burn of heat.
"Please," she begged barely louder than a whisper. She couldn't move her arms, she couldn't summon her wand. Her eyes refused to open. She squirmed uncomfortably barely able to move.
"Shh," someone whispered in her ear. She couldn't place the person, exactly, but a slight whimper escaped her lips. "It's going to be ok."
Lily felt a cool, damp cloth touch her forehead, cooling her almost immediately. She relaxed a little, certain that if death was going to come, it was going to come. There was no use struggling. She focused, instead, on making sure she was still breathing. It was a challenge; she had to keep reminding herself to breath. She felt the person touch her cheek, brushing some hair from her face.
"How long is she going to be like this?" She heard someone say. It sounded like Remus, but as if he was a thousand miles away with his head in a bucket.
"Well, it is very lucky that she didn't die on her way here," she heard another someone say, more authoritatively. It must have been Madame Pomphrey. "It is that damn muggle silver, I suppose, but I have never seen a non-werewolf react so badly… must have to do with all the blood she lost. Nicked the main vessels… odd, really, for an accident."
"Are we sure it was an accident?" Professor Dumbledore asked. Lily could feel herself smiling on the inside. He was always questioning things, such a brilliant man.
"Yes, of course. I watched her do it," James said defensively. Lily could feel herself soaring and her heart contracting all at once. James had made it to her sick bed. "She had looked away from her pod and the knife slipped off of it and into her hand."
"Has she taken anything that would have altered her perspectives?" Professor Dumbledore asked carefully. "A brew or potion?"
"Dear, no, I don't let the students sample their creations in my class," Professor Slughorn said immediately.
"She hasn't been by to have any concoction in months," Madame Pomphrey said. "Not even to get her migraine medications."
"Hmm, curious," Professor Dumbledore said. He continued to talk but Lily lost her grasp on his words as she slipped under the blanket of unconsciousness. She could no longer feel her body, nor feel James' hand on hers.
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