Eternal Slumber
His little girl lies in her bed, pale and still. He cannot help but smile when he sees her unicorn, Mister Maisy, cuddled up to her chest, in the exact same way she had cuddle him in her youth but when his eyes trail up to her face, expecting the slightly rosy and chubby cheeks of a six year old, he is sorely disappointed to see that his baby has grown up. Long, think red hair falls onto her face, somewhat hiding the sallow skin beneath (skin that is too sallow to be healthy). Beads of perspiration fall down her sickly forehead and she is mumbled nonsense, unaware that she is doing so.
"Lily…" He breathes.
Suddenly, standing in the doorway is too far away from his fifteen year old daughter. His craves close proximity, he wants to see her laugh again, see her act her age. He has only wanted his children to be happy… and lying on her bed, so sickly and weak, his baby is not happy, nor healthy. He reaches her bed in two quick strides, sitting down on the edge, just content to watch her sleep for a short while.
This is the calm before the storm. Soon Ginny will be in with Lily's medication, Lily will be moaning in pain, Albus will hover around, unsure of how to help and he, Harry, will have to watch it all, like he has always done. He has seen the foundations of his family diminish, along with Lily's health, seemingly leaving together in a fit of spite. Harry does not want to think of what will happen when Lily dies because he has managed to convince himself that this is a horrible nightmare (he will wake up and Lily will be happy and healthy and his family will be like is should) and to admit that there is a possibility that he will outlive his daughter will mean admitting that this is real and he can't do that.
Her hand feels oddly cold when he takes her hand. His thumb rubs smooth circles in the palm of her hand, like he did for Ginny when they stood at the alter all those years ago. The muttered nonsense has quietened and her eyelids begin to flutter. Her fingers twitch and Harry squeezes her hand slightly – he does not want to do it too hard; Lily looks like a light breeze could break her in half.
"Dad," she whispers, squeezing his hand back. Her light brown eyes stare back at him, full of an emotion that he has known intimately before. "Does… does it hurt to die?" Her voice is so quiet, barely a whisper but Harry hears her perfectly. He remembers asking the same question and the answer.
He shifts closer and uses his right hand to delicately move the hair away from her face, so he can see her sickly complexion better. "Not at all," he repeats the answer long ago given to him, "It's quicker and easier than falling asleep."
Her eyelids flutter and an almost bitter half smile twists her lips. She looks too sick to move much more. "Falling asleep is… scary… daddy. It's so… dark and… there's no… one there." She heaved in a gulp of air, panting from the effort of speaking. "Promise me… promise that you'll… stay with… me… please?"
"Until the end." And beyond.
It's just a dream. A nightmare, his worst nightmare. His daughter, his Lily-flower, dying is one of the worst things that could happen to him. The world would surely not allow such a travesty to occur. To steal such life and innocence would be nature's worst crime.
And yet, here he is, with a fifteen year old daughter who's going to pass before her time and he had thought he had convinced himself (he can't tell the difference between reality and dreams anymore - they both seem as bad as the other) that it wasn't real. Maybe, just maybe, it was… he shuddered in a breath.
"Mum'll be in soon." He says gently, caressing her face sweetly.
Her skin is so cold.
Tears well up in her eyes. "No… not today. No more… medication… I want… I want to… play with… Uncle Fred… and Padfoot… Prongs… Grandma Lily... in the…in the sky." A single tear spills over and falls down her face, leaving a wet trail down the gaunt face.
"No," Harry chokes on his own tears. "You can't… oh Lily!"
Lily's breathing is slower now. Tears slowly glide down her face, forming a tiny puddle in the deep hollow of her neck and Harry is nearly sobbing himself. It takes her a lot of effort but she still raises her arm up to her daddy's face and wipes a falling tear away. "Don't… don't cry… daddy… I'm just… sleeping…"
Harry forgets about her frailness and leaps forward to hug her, squeezing her tightly, his face buried into her fiery hair.
This isn't real. It can't be real. Such pain can't exist.
He sobs brokenly as his daughter takes her last breath. She falls into an eternal slumber, where Harry later hopes she is really with the family she never got to know. He hopes she is playing pranks with Fred, Sirius and her grandfather. He hopes she can fly across the clouds with them, laughing. He hopes she is happy and healthy.
When Ginny comes up later, he is still holding Lily's body in his arms. Ginny rushes to the bed, knowing immediately what has happened from Harry's expression, and she hugs them both, crying. But Harry doesn't cry. He sees Lily speaking her last words and smiles.
"It's okay, Ginny. She's just sleeping."
Maybe he sounds insane but Lily wouldn't lie. And it's true, in some way, because she is sleeping.
She just won't wake up.