QLFC Round 5: (Dream Sequence Dimension) Write about a dream that continued happening even after the character woke up. Additional Prompts: [emotion] determination, [song] shatter me by Lindsey Stirling.
Authors Note: This is very loosely based on the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty.
we burn every magnet and spring
Goofy shouldn't be the right word to describe your sleeping fiance the day before your wedding and yet Lily can hardly think of a word more suitable than that. James looks plain ridiculous with his messy hair hanging off the side of the bed, his pyjamas with miniature stags on them, and the way he sleeps with his mouth open. The only thing he's missing is drool coming out of the corner of his mouth.
"Hey." Lily nudges him, the only light illuminating his pitch-black room coming from her wand. "James?"
"Lils?" James blearily opens his eyes and scrunches up his nose at the sight of her. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you sleeping? I thought we weren't going to see each other the day before the wedding?"
His words startle a surprised laugh out of her. His concern is so quintessentially James; worrying about her sleep schedule and preserving the surprise even as they're about to marry as soon as the sun rises.
"I couldn't sleep," Lily admits, fiddling with the frills on her nightshirt and offering him an exhausted smile.
"Nerves?" James is fully awake now, putting his glasses on and gently placing his hands on hers to prevent them from shaking. "Is something wrong?"
Lily sighs and gestures for him to scooch over. When he does, she tucks the blankets over both of them and rests her head on his shoulder the way she's done since she was sixteen and they were having rendezvous in boarding school. He's twice the man he was back when he was Prince James, the polar opposite of humble, and she was a scholarship student with an attitude. They've grown so much since then.
"Not about marrying you," she reassures him. "Just the whole royalty thing. Not marrying you has never crossed my mind since you've proposed, James. I promise you that."
"I don't know what to say. I've always been a prince, Lils." James runs his fingers through his hair, leaving it in a worse state than usual. "But I love you and we'll figure this out together. Till the very end. Lils, I can't wait to marry you."
.
It is common knowledge in royal bloodlines that weddings are the perfect place to be attacked by enemies; everyone attending is too distracted by the bride and groom's love and all the festivities to be ready to fight back.
Lily Evans is not from a royal family, however. When the doors swing open during the vows, her first thought is that the wind is strong, not that she's come under attack from a man she's never met.
"My invitation must have been misplaced," the snake-like man says, his thin lips curved up in mocking amusement. "It's no matter, it seems that I have come in time to congratulate the bride regardless. Mrs. Potter, do you know who I am?"
She strains her mind. James had mentioned something like this, that the Potter family was cursed by an evil wizard who they'd wronged centuries ago. An evil wizard with pale skin and inhuman features as a result of the rituals he's done.
"Voldemort," Lily says in realization. "But James and I are innocent, please. We have never even met you. Our only crime can't be simply existing!"
Voldemort begins to laugh. The wedding hall has fallen completely silent and so the sound echoes like a death march.
"I think you'll find, Mrs. Potter, that there is very little I cannot do," Voldemort says. All the laughter has disappeared from his voice, leaving her desperately attempting not to shake from fear. "On what grounds do you suggest I spare you?"
She hasn't even done any formal testing or told James, but a deep, deep brave part of her forces her to speak up.
"I'm pregnant," she says, and behind her, James lets out a small sound of surprise and joy and fear.
It's the worst timing ever, but Voldemort pauses at that. Lily can almost see the cogs in his brain turning as he thinks and she prays in that moment. She's ready to do what it takes to save her unborn child, but she's also twenty-one. As selfish as it is, she wants to live.
Turning to James, Voldemort tilts his head, yellow slit eyes glowing. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter. A father already… I am almost heartbroken to bring this tale of love to the end. However, Mrs. Potter must pay the price."
"No!" James yells. "Please, let me pay it instead. It's my family that slighted you, it should be my burden to bear."
"I knew you would say that. Potters, all so foolhardy and predictable. However, all of you seem to forget that magic always comes with a price." He sneers and it takes all of Lily's willpower to not step back and away from him. "Your wife will fall into a never-ending dream. Even awake, she will suffer the consequences. The spell is irreversible, to punish your family for all of eternity."
His words cut her like a knife. Lily takes a step back, bumping into James's chest. He says something to her, grabbing her hand, but she doesn't hear it over the sound of Voldemort mumbling a spell, and then everything goes as dark as night.
(I love you, Lils. I'm going to figure this out. Stay strong for our son. I'll never stop fighting for you.)
.
Lily wakes up in what looks like her bedroom, screaming so loud her lungs burn.
It's an exact replica, which doesn't surprise her. Voldemort is known throughout all the kingdoms as the most talented wizard to ever exist and this is a powerful curse. She can feel the residue of magic on her skin; it stings like a static burn.
"Lily?"
Lily whirls around. James—not James, she reminds herself, just a convincing lie—is sitting on her bed, feet dangling over the side and glasses sliding down his nose.
"Why do you look so angry, love?" the imposter asks and her heart aches; she wants to throw herself into her husband's arms so badly, to wake up in the same bed, married and well-rested, instead of living this nightmare.
"James doesn't call me love or Lily," she says quietly, looking the imposter straight in the eye. "Just Lils or Evans."
Turning her back on the imposter, Lily closes her eyes and pinches her skin. "Wake up, Lily," she whispers to herself.
.
She can almost hear the sounds of life, lying in the castle's infirmary as if in a coma. The healers pace the room, grabbing potions and herbs as they go. She can even hear James, his voice cracking due to his tears.
"I'm so sorry," James tells her comatose form. Her chest hurts, every bone in her body trembling. Every gulp of air feels like her lungs are burning, but she forces her vocal cords around the words in determination, hoping he can hear it.
"It's not your fault," Lily tries to say, but the words never come out.
.
Days pass. The imposter James gets better, learns the proper nicknames and how the real James laughs, manages to mirror him down to the scar on his knee.
"I'm going to escape," Lily tells him. They are in the dining room this time, not her bedroom, and her words sound like steel when they come out.
"I just want you to be happy," the imposter says, and he sounds so much like James that it is uncanny, but when she glares at him in determination, the setting seems to blur.
She can see the chips in the wall where magic wasn't enough to fool her, can see the way James's skin is too smooth to be human, the way the exact curve of his smile and the colour of his eyes is off. All human details, something even the best wizard in the world can't replicate.
"You could still be happy," the imposter tells her. He passes her the potato salad before she asks and she takes it grudgingly. Even in her waking nightmares, she needs to eat.
"I will be," she says, forcing determination into her voice, but her promise falls on deaf ears.
.
James hires the best healers in all the kingdoms. They run tests on her day and night, trying to undo Voldemort's effects. When that fails, James brings in magicians who try and break down the spell, shooting colourful sparks at her skin.
James spends every waking moment at her bedside. "Till death do us part," and for the first time, the cold feeling of dread in her stomach doesn't subside at his words. Some days, she wonders if they will even reach a natural death, or if the two of them will rot away, trapped in endless nightmares.
.
She tries not to think about her unborn child as a last-ditch effort to protect them from Voldemort's manipulations, but one day (they all blur into each other eventually) she fails.
Today her dreamscape has placed her in an unfamiliar room. She looks around for the imposter James, her least favourite but only companion for guidance, but he's gone. Instead, she's in what looks like a child's room with animals painted on the wall and a cradle in the middle of it.
A child's wail cuts through her thoughts. Lily whirls around in surprise, almost losing her footing. The sound seems to be coming from the cradle, but she's reluctant to come closer. Voldemort is capable of doing anything to make her break.
Five minutes of crying later, however, have her moving closer. Lily peaks into the cradle and lets out a cry at the sight she sees: a red-headed girl with James's brown eyes who breaks into a goofy baby grin when she catches sight of her.
"Mama," the girl wails and Lily forces herself out of her dream so hard it leaves her in agony for days.
.
For the next week, she wakes up in the child's room every day now. Imposter James is gone, but his scent lingers. It's just her and the child, who grows at an inhuman rate. One day she's a baby, but the next time Lily falls into her dreams against her will, she's a toddler.
"Mummy." The girl has crawled near her, putting a hand on Lily's crossed legs.
"No," Lily protests but the words sound weak even to her own ears. The girl crawls into her lap and Lily tries not to breathe in the smell of her, like milk and something child-like she cannot place, or feel the way her baby hairs are so smooth and like James's.
The girl doesn't respond, just cuddles in closer and falls asleep. Lily, for the first time since being cursed, feels the tears fall.
.
She gets every moment with her daughter she ever dreamed off. The first time the girl walks instead crawls and the way she scrapes her knee after, the first time she laughs, the first time she runs. Lily calls her Jamie in her dreams, because James and she never had time to pick a name. Lily takes her dancing in the palace gardens, holding her in her arms the whole time, feeds her mashed peas that get everywhere, teaches her the name of every animal painted on her nursery wall.
It's a surprise, how good of a mother she is capable of being.
.
She gives in eventually. She loves her husband and the future they could have had, will have, she reminds herself, as soon as he breaks the curse, but she finds herself waking up less and less. Her daughter is growing in fits and spurts, getting older and spitting out words.
This is all she's ever wanted. She knows it's in her dreams, but sometimes, late at night when she's alone with her thoughts, she begins to wonder if that makes it any less real.
If only James were here, she thinks.
.
She wakes up in what looks like her bedroom, screaming so loud her lungs burn from the sheer pain of it. It doesn't usually hurt like this.
"Lils!" It's James's voice but she's too cynical to trust that; imposter James is too talented for blind faith. Instead, she focuses on her surroundings. Something feels off today, different from the usual way she feels when she slips in and out of her cursed dreams.
"Lils, it's me," the James look-alike says. Lily can feel her eyes fluttering as they attempt to open fully. "Lils, it's really me. We broke the curse today. You're… you're really here. We did it."
Oh. The realization hits slowly and her mouth drops open as James leans down to engulf her in a hug. His hair feels real, no crackling of magic anywhere. He feels real.
"How?" Lily croaks out. Her throat feels sore from months of silence but she needs to know.
"I'm not sure," James admits, still holding her. "But the just in time, Lils… you're about to give birth."
Lily is about to deny it when she looks down at her round stomach. She looks ready to pop, meaning that she has been stuck in Voldemort's curse for almost eight months. Eight months of pure hell. It makes her want to rage, or perhaps just cry.
James seems to understand because he plants a soft kiss on her forehead. "You were so strong," he tells her, "you did everything right, Lils. I'm so sorry you had to go through this."
.
Harry James Potter is born a healthy four kilograms and with a tuft of messy black hair. James almost faints in happiness, cradling his son to his chest, and Lily thinks she catches at least one member of the royal guard snickering into their sleeve. It should be, without a doubt, the happiest day of her life.
It isn't.
.
Sometimes, she dreams about her other child, the red-headed girl who loved poking the animals on the wall, who loved to walk clumsily regardless of how much she fell, who called her mummy while they danced in the sunlight. Every memory feels like ripping her heart out—what kind of a mother loves another child more than her own, especially another child who doesn't even exist?
She tries though: Harry is growing, mumbling out sounds, attempting to crawl around in his crib. At night, when James is asleep, Lily kisses her son and tries not to cry too loudly. If James were to find out, he'd try to share her grief and she's already put him through enough agony. This is her burden to bear.
"Mummy," her daughter asks in her dreams, "do you miss me?"
Sometimes, she wakes up braiding phantom hair, and then, on those cold, dark nights only, she wonders if this was the victory Voldemort wanted all along. He is locked up in a prison cell, rotting till the end of his days, and yet out of the two of them, she's the one shattering on the inside.