I'll Fight For You
By Hazelmist/Summerskies
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world, I just manipulate it.
A/N: Thanks again to everyone that took the time to review! I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one!
Chapter 5: Who Are You?
"WAKE UP!"
Well, I never thought that this was how I would be greeted upon arrival into the afterlife. I was looking for more of a "Welcome!" "Hello!" heck, even "Howdy!" or "Hey, how you doing?" would've been nice but never "WAKE UP!" I try to open my eyes but my poor eyelids are like lead. Is this some kind of trick?
"I hate to do this Lily, I'm really sorry, but I have to-"
SPLASH!
Cold water! Freezing, cold water poured in my hair, now dripping down my neck and on my blouse. Suddenly, I find my energy reserve. My eyes snap open and I bolt upright spluttering. Someone dumped a vase of water on me. How dare them!
I search for the culprit and find a familiar face with unruly black hair falling in front of his glasses. I look at him, wondering what kind of life after death thing this is supposed to be, because it's certainly not heaven. I'm still in my mother's parlor - which is still a disaster zone - and the person sitting in front of me -
"Who are you?" I ask, my mind drawing a blank.
His eyes widen.
"Did they hit you over the head as well?" he asks me, looking at me as if I've grown a sixth head.
I stare at him, blinking, wondering why his name isn't coming to me. I'm cold, I realize, because I'm all wet. Some jerk - the familiar boy, whose name I can't recall - decided to dump a vase of freezing cold water on me.
"Lily it's me James-"
"POTTER!" I snarl, my memories flooding back to me. Just a temporary relapse! I'm fine now. For some odd reason he looks younger than I remember, and didn't he just die? Wait. No, that was me. Are we both dead? The room with the green light, a baby crying, a chilling laugh - it flashes before my eyes and then it slips to the back of my mind.
I'm wet, my mother's parlor's a mess, and Potter's with me. Nope, either we're in hell or I'm alive.
"Why'd you- OW!" My hand flies to my sore neck and I notice the aching pain. Yes, I believe I am very much alive. Mr. Serial Killer must have let me live after all and I'm sure he dirtied my flesh with his soiled fingernails.
Tenderly, James removes my hand.
"Don't touch. It's badly bruised. My mom will look at it when we get back," he assures me.
I bite down on my lip, trying not to move or touch my neck.
"Does anything else hurt? Can you stand? Did they do anything other than try to strangle you?" he asks, holding onto my hand and helping me to my feet.
"Other than scare the hell out of me and cause psychological damage?"
James quietly chuckles and relief spreads across his face.
"I take it you're alright then," he concludes.
"Um, no. Actually, I'm soaking wet and freezing cold because somebody decided that I needed a shower-" I begin angrily, but James cuts me off.
"I'm sorry Lily but you weren't waking up fast enough and we really need to get out of here."
"Serial Killer #1 and 2!" I gasp.
"What?" James asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Where are they?" I race to the doorway and look into the hallway. But I find nothing there but a blood stain from Serial Killer #2's nose when I stunned him and he fell face down on the carpeted floor of the hallway. I spin, moving my neck and causing it to burn with excruciating pain. Even with all the pain from turning one hundred and eighty degrees, Serial Killer #1 isn't there either.
They're gone!
"Oh! You mean those two murderers, the ones that tried to kill you!" James spits out, his eyes flashing angrily.
"Yeah, those two. Are they still here? Wait. What happened? How'd you get here?" I ask addressing James for the first time.
"Floo powder," he answers.
Suddenly, I'm angry. No, I'm furious. Now, I remember exactly whose fault it is that my neck is hurting me and why Potter has always been, and always will be a JERK.
I walk right up to him and jab my index finger into the center of his chest.
"You left me!" I yell.
James brushes my hand away, taking a step closer to me.
"You think I left you? You were supposed to be right behind me! I handed you the floo powder!" James shouts, shoving a trembling hand holding an invisible floo powder pouch underneath my nose. We're both shaking and I don't know whether it's because we're angry or because of the near death experience that he may or may not have walked in on.
"Exactly! But -" I interrupt, but James keeps going.
"Why'd you stick around until they showed up? You knew I had to floo Gracie back," his voice is harsh but I see that his eyes have softened.
"I don't know where you live," I finish, drowning out whatever he was going on about next.
"Oh," James says, his mouth forming a perfect "O".
"I forgot about Gracie," I admit guiltily, looking down at my shoes.
An uneasy silence fills the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock I knocked off the mantelpiece earlier when I decided to blow up the living room. As I study my sneakers, I notice that my shoes are practically touching Potter's. I lift my head, and realize just how close we are. But Potter, who was always more than happy to put us in this kind of position and try to grope me, has his head bent and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"We should uh, really get out of here," I suggest casually, breaking the embarrassing silence.
"Yeah, you're right," James agrees, clearing his throat and looking up.
"Er, James?" I glance around the room, noting the mess that I made in my fruitless attempt to finish Serial Killer #1 off. A white powder dusts the coffee table, looking suspiciously like the floo powder from the now empty floo pouch resting underneath the couch.
"Don't worry I brought more," James chuckles, taking a smaller leather pouch from his pocket and handing it to me. "You are coming with me this time, right?" he asks, holding it out of my reach.
"Sure, but it might help if you tell me where I'm going." I smile.
James takes a handful, big enough for the two of us.
"I'll tell you what, we'll go together," he offers, generously.
"I'd like that." I surprise myself by saying this to him. But of course it's only because I'm a little shaken up after two serial killers came waltzing into my house and decided to kill me for no apparent reason. It's not because Potter is being so nice to me.
"Hey, you never told me what happened," I say, suddenly.
"And you never told me what happened," he retorts. "We'll swap stories later," he promises when he sees the look on my face. I nod reluctantly, and start toward the fireplace. As I turn and face the living room, two thoughts come to mind.
"Can we do something about this mess?" I ask, knowing that if I leave it like this I probably won't live to see my seventeenth birthday thanks to a very angry Mom.
"They'll take care of it," James says, tugging on my hand, pulling me anxiously toward the fireplace.
"And what about my parents?" I hold back, refusing to leave until I know that they'll be okay.
"They're going to contact them and send them to another safe location," James reassures me.
"Okay." I nod, and then stop with a frown.
"Who are they?" I ask, suspiciously.
"Oh, some Ministry dude that showed up after…sorry what were their names?"
"Serial Killer #1 and #2."
"Yeah, after those two goons took off some idiot, Kenny or something or other-"
"They got away?!" I exclaim, alarmed and angry.
In the movies, the hero gets the kiss, nearly loses their life and then kicks the bad guy's butt to Timbuktu. I didn't get the kiss, yet, but I did everything else except I would've been killed if someone hadn't intervened, and the bad guys got away. That's not supposed to happen. The bad guys are supposed to get taken in by the cops or die, or end up humiliated or on some remote island in the middle of nowhere. But then again, this isn't the life of some action film super hero. This is the life of an ordinary sixteen-year-old witch, Lily Evans.
"I'll tell you everything tonight," James says, squeezing my hand.
"It is tonight." I can't help but laugh, wondering what time it is. This has been the longest day ever.
"Right, well tomorrow then."
"Okay, you promise?" I ask, holding back.
"Will you hurry up and get inside of the fireplace if I do?" James sighs and I nod in reply. "I promise, alright? Now let's get out of here before your Sissy Killers-"
"Serial Killers," I correct him quickly, only slightly insulted that he would refer to them as being girly. I worked hard to kick their butt, and I think I should remind him that I am after all a girl.
"Right Siamese, Sissy, Cereal Boxers whatever they were, just get in here."
I chuckle and hop in beside him. He moves to take the floo powder from me, hanging onto my hand a few seconds longer than he should have.
"Oh, and Lily? Let's get one thing straight." His eyes look deeply into mine and a hurt, serious, expression lines the handsome face that was nearly laughing an instant before. I wait, impatiently wondering what could make him so sad so suddenly.
"I would never leave you," he whispers.
My breath hitches in my throat but he takes the floo powder from me and turns away. The emerald flames engulf us and still I stare at the sixteen-year-old boy standing beside me who I thought I knew so well, but now I barely recognize.
"I know," I reply, softly.
"The Lioness!" James shouts.
A roaring noise fills the air and I can't even hear myself think, let alone speak. The emerald flames blind me and the living room disappears from view. I hang onto the only solid thing left, James. Everything's spinning out of control and I think of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz for some strange reason. I keep on waiting to see a cow flying by or a wicked woman on a bicycle with Toto in her basket, but the only thing I see is the green flames surrounding us, a few flickering images of parlors, basements and various other rooms. I can't be sure, it all happened so quickly, but I could have sworn I was seeing the view from other wizarding home fireplaces. Gracie told me that's why they call it the floo network, or as her younger brother Chris sometimes called it the WWWW.
"The what?" I asked him once.
"The Wizarding World Wide Web," he informed me with a roll of his eyes, the same color and shape as Gracie's. "Come on Lil, get with the times."
"It sounds like the internet," I laughed.
"The internet?" His eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Don't answer him Lily, or he'll interrogate you all night!" Gracie groaned, but her brother looked up at me with an innocent pleading look written all over his cute little face. So, as usual I ignored Gracie and gave into what would be the beginning of a very long game of twenty questions. But Chris and I were used to this, as we exchanged a knowing grin, we both loved to annoy Gracie, and this was one of our favorite recurring opportunities.
"Yea, it's some weird computer network thing of the future. It won't be around for at least another ten years but Dad won't stop talking about it. This American guy Al Bore or something or other invented-"
"What's a computer?" he interrupted me.
"It's like a TV, except-"
"Explain to me what the Teetee is again."
"It's a TV, and it transmits pictures like movies and shows-"
"What's a movie?"
"Well there's lots of kind of movies, they're like books. You know romances with gross kissy stuff-"
"Oh, like Gracie and Keith do in the broom closet!" he cut in enthusiastically.
"Exactly, like Keith and Gracie - wait - Keith?" I spun around and faced my best friend whose face was redder than her Gryffindor Quidditch robes.
"You're dating Keith Abbott?" I giggled and glanced between the brother and sister.
"Keith Abbot?" The portrait swings open and three of my favorite people walked into the Gryffindor Common Room. As always they have perfect timing. "Who's dating Keith Abbott?" Black asked, smirking.
Lupin, always the observant one - since he's the only one with half a brain - spotted Gracie's tomato face.
"Grace?" he gasped.
"You're dating Abbott?" Potter's mouth dropped open, a mixture of amusement and anger on his face.
"Keith Abbott!?" Black exclaimed shrilly and mock fainted onto the sofa. "Is this true Chrissy, tell me it's not true!" he moaned dramatically in a girly voice.
Gracie didn't answer them and neither did Chris, because suddenly Gracie screamed and launched herself at her younger brother who quickly ran behind my arm chair for protection.
"YOU ARE SO DEAD!" she screamed, lunging toward him and missing again.
Chris giggled and ran for his life.
My memories of happier, Serial Killer free days at Hogwarts with my best friend and her then living younger brother are interrupted by a sudden whooshing noise, as James and I are tossed mercilessly out of the fireplace and onto a hardwood floor.
Ow.
At least we're not spinning anymore. Near the end there, I could have sworn I saw a flying cow, but then again maybe it was because after that eternal trip on the revved up merry-go-round, I was really starting to lose it.
It doesn't help matters that I landed on a hardwood floor and something heavy, no wait, someone, is on top of me.
My eyes open and I find a pair of hazel eyes inches away from my own. You know I think this is Déjà vu, I feel like we've already been in this position before. I mean the alarmingly close thing, where I can actually see what color Potter's eyes are. It scares me to think that after having the upper hand all these years, suddenly, James catches me off guard not once but twice in one day. But then again, murder is not an every day occurrence.
If it had been anyone but Potter, I would've had my hero kiss even before the Cereal Boxers, I mean Serial Killers, showed up. But my prince is apparently extremely late.
It takes me only a full ten seconds to finally find my tongue.
"Potter, off!" I groan, shoving him weakly.
"Sorry, Lily." He scrambles off of me, and gets to his feet.
I lie on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. I'm having trouble catching my breath, probably because Potter squished me. Oh, and did I forget to mention the fact that my neck is now killing me!? Taking a trip on the floo powder roller coaster and then landing on the hardwood floor with Potter on top of me was definitely not what the doctor ordered.
"Are you okay?" James asks. His face moves into my line of vision and I see him looking worriedly down at me.
What nerve! Merlin, sometimes even I'm surprised at what an idiot Potter is. He can be such a brainless git at times that I wonder if it's possible that he was born without a brain.
"Oh, yea! Just peachy!" I say with a fake smile, struggling to sit up. He doesn't get the hint.
"Help me up!" I hold out a hand and James quickly grabs it. With his help, I stand up.
"Is your neck still hurting you?" he asks, studying me.
"A little bit," I admit. Wow, Potter does have a brain after all. No where near a full one, but at least something's up there.
"I think my Mom's upstairs."
We landed in a small family room and James leads me out of it and into a hallway. Before we reach the elegantly winding staircase that leads up to a second and perhaps a third floor, I see a tall woman running down the steps to meet us.
"James!"
Right away I realize who she is, not because of the strong resemblance to James, but because of the way she jumps down the last four steps and pulls James into a hug that leaves him gasping for air.
"You're home safe! One second you were looking in on Gracie and then the next I turned around and you were gone. You can't wander off James, especially not at a time like this! Do you realize what a fright you caused for your poor mother? You're going to be the death of me James! Don't you ever do that again, you hear me? "
"Mom-" James squeaks, looking as if his circulation is being cut off by this tall but slender woman.
"But you're home! Thank Merlin, you're alright!" His mother's voice cracks and if anything it appears that she's holding onto James even tighter. I think his face is turning blue.
I turn away, allowing mother and son to have their moment. A pang of sadness hits me as I think of Mom who I left behind and then of someone else who will never again run into the waiting arms of a worried mother who breaks down into tears of joy at the sight of her safe and sound, or hear the laugh of a relieved father as he holds her and kisses her cheek, or get their hair pulled by a pesky little brother who teases and whose laughter rings through the house breaking the tension.
Gracie.
I look up at the winding staircase wondering if my best friend's here, sleeping, quietly grieving, or planning the cold blooded murderer's death in a dark room.
"James, you didn't tell me you were bringing home a girl." His mother's voice interrupts my train of thought.
I wheel around and face her. Tall, slender, and beautiful with curly raven hair falling just past her shoulders and large hazel eyes Mrs. Potter reminds me of Gracie's mother. For a moment, I just stand there, speechless. I've seen James's mother from afar, and in passing at Gracie's house a few times, I think we might have been introduced once when I was twelve, but I couldn't remember her ever looking so much like her sister, Hope Adams.
"Hello Mrs. Potter." I smile, regaining my composure.
"Lily? Lily Evans?" she asks softly, laying her hands on my shoulders.
I nod, shyly.
"I didn't even recognize you at first. The last time I saw you, you were only twelve and so small, and now look you've grown into a beautiful young woman."
I blush.
"Oh it's so good to see you!" She embraces me and whispers in my ear, "My son adores you." I blush harder, doing everything I can to avoid looking at James who's peering at me over his mother's shoulder. She pulls back with what must have been a mischievous smile on her tired, blotchy, tear streaked face.
I fight the urge to laugh, because she acts as if it's some sort of secret. I think James himself announced to the entire school, that he wants to go to bed with me. Everyone in Hogwarts knows, and Mrs. Potter, I think James adores everything that's female. Still I find myself turning a brilliant shade of magenta after she tells me this, and I have trouble meeting James's eyes for some odd reason.
Suddenly, her eyes widen.
"You're all wet! And your neck, what happened to your neck?!"
My eyes involuntarily dart to James and Mrs. Potter swings around and glares at her son. James steps back, cowering under her penetrating gaze.
"It was the attackers!" I blurt out. I was looking forward to watching Mrs. Potter kick the crap out of James, but I can't lie to this woman who is obviously NOTHING like her conceited son.
"The attackers?"
"Two wizards showed up at my house… one of them tried to strangle me..." I break off before getting into the details of how I kicked their butt, and cut straight to the point, when I see the haunted look that suddenly appears in the woman's hazel eyes.
"Say no more, I'll get you all cleaned up and better in no time." She takes my arm and pulls me into a room to the left of the winding staircase. "Oh, and James, you have a visitor in the kitchen."
I catch a last glimpse of a perplexed James, going to the right, before Mrs. Potter promptly brings me into the room and shuts the door behind us.
She waves her wand, using a simple drying spell to get me dry again. I feel dumb, knowing that I could've easily done this myself. Mrs. Potter lifts up a mirror on the opposite wall, removing a towel and a bottle containing a brown colored liquid.
"Here wrap this around your neck," she says gently, as she hands the towel to me.
Obediently, I do as I'm told. I feel a little silly with a towel around my neck, but within a few seconds the pain is gone. Turning, I look in the mirror, noticing the bruise for the first time.
I wrinkle my nose in disgust upon seeing the purplish handprint that Serial Killer #1 left on my neck. Cautiously, I touch the rapidly fading bruise, running my hands over the spots where his fingers dug into the flesh intent on ending my short life. Mrs. Potter's sad face appears in the mirror behind me.
"The mark might stay for a while, but you can only notice it if you look closely."
I remove my hand and turn my back on the mirror.
"Drink this. I don't think there was any internal damage, but just to be sure I think you better take some of this." She hands me what looks like a shot glass filled with a brown foaming liquid. Just what I need, a hard drink, even though I've never had one in my life, but hey there's always a time for firsts! I drink it quickly and instantly realize that it's definitely not what I was hoping it would be. Good thing I swallowed it fast, it tastes horrible!
"You're one lucky girl," she tells me. "By the looks of it, you were pretty close to death. If he held on for another ten seconds I think you would've been dead."
Dead? I thought I was dying, but then I woke up and James was there telling me about the Ministry Official, Kenny, or whatever his name was that let them get away. That reminds me. I really have to find out what happened after I passed out. I get the feeling that Serial Killer #1 didn't let go of me just because he suddenly had a change of heart when he realized I hadn't had my first kiss yet and decided to let me live and become a monk. Another question surfaces in my mind.
"Mrs. Potter-"
"Please call me Heather." She smiles.
"Mrs. Po - I mean, Heather, is Gracie here?"
Her smile vanishes and the haunted look returns to her hazel eyes.
"Yes, she's staying here. But I don't think it's a good idea to approach her right now. She's had a rough day," she finishes, busying herself with folding the towel and returning everything to the cabinet.
I know she had a rough day. I was with her through it all.
"You'll be staying with us, I presume?"
"Er, well, I was supposed to stay with Gracie but-" I hesitate, and she interrupts before I even mention Gracie.
"I'll set up a room for you."
"Thanks, Mrs. Potter,"
"Call me Heather," she corrects me.
"Thank you,"
We walk out and she closes the door behind us.
"The room won't take long. I think James is in the kitchen if you're looking for him. It's the first door on your right."
"Thanks." I manage a small smile as we part ways. She climbs the steps, and me, feeling out of place, awkward and extremely curious, end up walking toward the first door on my right.
Hesitantly, I approach the swinging door but I pause outside of it, despite my burning curiosity egging me on. I just feel weird walking in on a closed door conversation, even if it is a swinging door, it's still technically closed, and it's not my house. I start to walk away, thinking that the room might be set up by now and I can go to sleep, but the sound of my name roots me to the spot.
"Lily?!" I recognize James's voice immediately.
"Is that your girlfriend's name? Then yes, I'm afraid it does involve her," a deep unfamiliar male voice rumbles. First of all buddy, I am not his girlfriend, and second of all, what am I involved in?
"But she's muggleborn, her parents are muggles."
So what if I'm muggleborn? It never seemed to stop you from stalking me for the past five years.
The man lowers his voice, and I have to move closer to the door in order to hear what they're saying.
"Have you been reading the paper son?"
No he hasn't!
"Of course."
LIAR! The day James Potter picks up anything and reads it will be the day I eat my shoe.
"Read it carefully, and double check the list of victims again."
Right, like that's going to happen - wait, victims? I lean against the door straining to hear more. Unfortunately, I forget that it's a swinging door. The door swings open, bringing me with it.
POP!
The only one in the kitchen is James. It appears that the mysterious visitor with the deep voice has vanished. Stupid Apparation. I didn't even catch a glimpse of the mysterious visitor and I haven't the faintest clue as to what they were discussing.
"Lily!" James gasps.
"James," I say, giving him my best smile. Folding my arms over my chest, I lean against the kitchen table in front of him.
"Who was that?" I inquire, sweetly.
"No one," James lies, failing to meet my eyes.
"Well, then why were you talking to yourself?" I ask, looking directly at him.
James's head jerks up and an amused expression crosses his face.
"You were eavesdropping?" He raises an eyebrow.
"No," I retort, haughtily.
"You were, weren't you?" James presses. A shadow of a smile surfaces on his face.
"Maybe," I reluctantly admit, inspecting my nails.
"I can't believe it, perfect prefect Evans caught red-handed doing the very thing that she wrote me up for doing last year," James laughs, though it's empty and sounds more like a bark.
"Well, I think I have a right to eavesdrop when the conversation concerns me," I snap.
"How long were you standing there?" James frowns.
"Long enough to know that I am NOT your girlfriend and that you do NOT read the paper," I reply.
"He just assumed that you were," James says, quickly.
A likely story.
"You didn't correct him," I point out.
"And besides, you don't read the paper either," James adds.
"Yes, I do! Unlike you Potter I actually know how to read," I shoot back angrily.
"The Daily Prophet?" James's eyebrow disappears in his messy hair and I can see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
I open my mouth and close it instantly. He has a point.
"Okay, so I don't, but my parents are muggles and I can always read someone else's at Hogwarts," I defend myself. James looks unconvinced so I accept the minor loss and go in for the kill.
"Since you've been reading the paper ever so carefully, why don't you tell me about this list of victims and why it involves me."
This time it's James who's stumped. He runs a hand through his messy hair and leans against the table beside me.
"Well?" I prod, impatiently.
"I don't know," he sighs. His eyes move to his shoes and he shuffles them about. "I don't understand what he was talking about. I mean I read the Daily Prophet, but nothing's making any sense." He shakes his head.
"Maybe, if you told me what you were talking about before I came in, or showed me the Daily Prophet I could figure it out," I suggest casually, recalling the letter Gracie sent me and the information that she had withheld from me, and James had promised to tell me about when we got here.
"Maybe, if you hadn't walked in and interrupted our conversation I'd already know," he answers, kicking my ankle lightly.
"I didn't realize that it was a swinging door," I say sheepishly, kicking him back.
"Sure," James says sarcastically, as he kicks me again.
"So, you're not going to tell me who this mysterious person was?" I ask kicking his ankle a little harder.
"I thought we agreed that I was talking to myself," James quips.
I step on his foot before he can kick me and he looks up. Our eyes meet.
"What's going on?" I ask, seriously.
James exhales, his eyes moving away from mine. I feel his foot slide out from underneath mine. Oh no you don't, you are not getting away. I grab him, placing a hand on his forearm. Reluctantly, he stays put.
"Tell me," I beg, not for the first time. "Please," I plead, tugging gently on his sleeve. I need to know, if I have to wait any longer it's going to drive me insane. Now that my name's come up in the argument, my best friend's family was murdered and I've discovered that there's a list of victims, it's personal.
He looks at me, his hazel eyes sad and dark.
"Not now," he whispers, turning away.
"Then when are you going to tell me?" I ask, maneuvering myself so that I'm in front of him again.
"I told you, not right now," he repeats with a little more force and a touch of volume.
I study his face, and his eyes filled with multiple emotions, all ones that reflect the trial that we went through today with the arrival of a midnight black owl. James doesn't have the strength or the patience to talk, and I am in no mood or position to fight with him. Wearily, I nod my head.
"Okay," I whisper, taking a step back.
He looks mildly surprised but relieved that I've decided to wait. His tense muscles, relax beneath my fingertips, and I notice that I still have a hand wrapped around his left arm. I try to move it, but instead I end up rubbing the spot and discover that my hand seems to have a mind entirely of its own. Our eyes interlock and I feel his hand suddenly go to my waist.
"James is Lily here-"
James jumps and I move away from him at the speed of light.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mrs. Potter, er, Heather apologizes, looking slightly amused in the doorway. The funny thing is she doesn't look sorry at all. In fact her eyes have a hint of mischief dancing in them. It's almost as if she assumes that we were…no…we didn't look like we were…nah…
Then why did I move away from him when she walked in?
She startled me, that's all.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you-"
"You weren't," James speaks up quietly. "Lily and I were just going to bed."
Thank you, James. I send him a small grateful smile.
"Of course. But I think it would be best if Lily would sleep in her own room," his mother continues with that same mischievous glint in her eyes, though her voice is now stern as if she's trying to discipline us.
I'm so tired, but I could have sworn that she was implying something else. I look at James confused. His cheeks look a little pink.
"It's not that I don't trust you two," she hurriedly adds.
James blushes madly and I catch my jaw just in time. My face flushes when I realize how embarrassing this situation is. Now she not only thinks that I'm his girlfriend, but that I actually snog him in her kitchen of all places and that I would actually sleep with her thick headed son.
"But I would prefer it if-"
"Mom!" James interrupts, through gritted teeth. His mother stops in mid sentence, her face the picture of innocence. Now I know exactly where he gets it from. "Lily and I are not sleeping together."
"Of course not dear, now just as long as you two stay in your separate rooms-"
"MOM!"
I would've laughed at James's red face if it hadn't been for the fact that I'm a part of this mortifying scene.
"Okay, Lily your room is on the third floor, three doors on the right," she informs me.
"Thank you," I mumble, my face still flushed with embarrassment as I brush past the two of them and run out of the kitchen.
"Thanks a lot Mom," James's voice carries down the hall after me.
"What did I do?" Heather asks, innocently.
Yea, they're definitely related. Taking the steps two at a time I finally reach the third floor. Three doors to the left and I find the room just where she told me it would be. The door opens easily, and I rush inside and slam it shut behind me.
Thank Merlin, that's over. I don't think that's something I would like to repeat. Imagine snogging, or even, ew, sleeping with him. Yuck, the thought's too horrible to even conceive. It gives me the heebie jeebies. It's like a scene out of a horror movie, I shudder, I writhe at the mention of the idea. I have nightmares about it. I'm sorry Mrs. Potter but unless I'm suddenly struck by lightening that is never, I repeat, NEVER, going to happen.
I push all disgusting thoughts of Potter from my mind and glance around the room. Even in the dim light of a lone candle, I can tell it's spacious and larger than our dining room. I could care less what it looked like even if they gave me a vacancy in the barn I would be thrilled. My eyes fall upon the comfortable looking king sized bed situated by the window. I think I've died and gone to heaven.
Running, I jump onto the soft bed, bouncing a few times and then settling comfortably on my back. I remove my wand, my shrunken belongings and a few scraps of paper from my pocket, placing them on the table beside my bed. I don't bother to change out of my clothes. Right now, I just want to go to sleep.
I lean back into the pillows and close my eyes.
Sleep at last.
Yea, I wish.
Crrrrreeeaaakkkk.
Ten seconds later, or at least it felt like ten seconds, my eyes snap open at the sound of creaking floor boards. At first I think I'm dreaming, but then I notice the door swinging open as if by some invisible force. Sleepily, I push myself up on my elbows, watching the door through half closed eyes. I blink and rub my eyes, but still, no one's there.
It must've been the wind. No big deal. I lay back and close my eyes again. I hear the door shut. How strange, I don't recall it being very windy tonight but apparently that late summer breeze is really whipping through the house tonight.
I'm so tired that I should've fallen immediately back to sleep, but a second sound causes my body to tense, and all thoughts of sleep to vanish from my mind.
"Harry,"
The name is whispered so softly, that I swear it's a figment of my imagination. Again, I would've drifted off to sleep, if it hadn't been for the fact that the name sent a weird sort of shock through my body. Wide awake, I hold my breath, clutching the sheets to my chest and wondering why I'm so dizzy all of a sudden. My mind buzzes, it's like déjà vu, except I've never known anyone named Harry in my entire life. The feeling passes but now I'm fully aware that I'm not alone in the room. It sounds like there's an animal scurrying toward the closet, or someone tiptoeing to my bedside.
"Harry?"
The voice is closer and louder than the last time and this time I'm sure it's a someone - not a something - that has joined me in the bedroom. Unless animals can talk now, which wouldn't be a huge surprise since we're in the Wizarding World.
After two Serial Killers arrived unannounced in my house you'd think I would've learned something. But the name provokes a curious feeling and the voice is quiet and childlike. Instead of reaching for my wand, I stay still with my eyes wide open and stare up at the ceiling. Patiently, I wait, and then-
"Harry I'm scared, I had a nightmare-" the voice stops abruptly, and I roll over to face the child that mistook me for this mysterious Harry person. A small girl with a head full of dark curls looks back at me fearfully.
I regain my composure, and smile kindly at the child who can't be more than six years old. This little harmless girl nearly gave me a heart attack. She backs up a step into a shaft of light streaming in from the window. Bathed in the moonlight, I notice her brown eyes wide and full of fear and confusion. She's almost as shocked as I am.
"Hi, I'm Lily. What's your name?" I ask in a soothing voice.
"Where's Harry?" she asks, tearfully. Her eyes are watering and I can tell by her blotchy red eyes that this won't be the first time she's cried today.
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me your name and we can go look for him?" Very slowly and carefully I sit up and start to get out of bed. Cautiously, I approach the trembling girl who's now wildly looking around the room in terror and confusion.
"Is he your Dad?" I ask softly, kneeling down in front of her.
She shakes her head, tossing the midnight black curls from her face, revealing an untreated gash on her chest, slashes on her shoulder and a black and blue around her left eye. I notice dried blood on her garments which are too big for her, way too big for her. Who is this girl?
"What happened to you?" I ask, horrified by the sight and condition of her injuries.
"Where's Harry?" she asks again, louder this time with tears coursing down the front of her face. "Where is he? WHO ARE YOU?"
"I'm Lily. Who's Harry?" I echo, reaching for my wand. Intent on healing her, I aim it at the gash on her chest, but the girl screams at the sight of the wand and clambers onto the windowsill.
"Wait!" I plead. "Who are you?"
But the girl jumps and disappears into the night.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Please review and constructive criticism is always appreciated! I know you're probably confused, but stick with me. It will make sense eventually.
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