"Lily?" James murmured when he stirred suddenly, realising his awkward position on the hard gravel ground, and sat up to look around. Other various members of the Order of the Pheonix hurried around, tending to those who had been wounded. The wizard stood quickly, spluttering blood. He pushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and felt a deep gash there, filling his mouth with blood. Lifting his hands to his face, James' fingers came away with a startling redness covering them. Shuddering, he wiped his hands on his robes. He must have been bleeding horribly.
"James?" Remus Lupin was running towards him, looking thoroughly relieved. "Oh, thank Merlin, we thought you were d-"
"Lily," James said hoarsely, ignoring his friend's comment. "Where is she?"
Remus suddenly paled.
"WHERE IS SHE?" James suddenly found himself yelling, infused with hysterical anger, screaming amongst the dozen or so other people and smoke. Rushing past Lupin, James ran blindly through the crowd, reaching the remains of the little restaurant where they had been attacked. No less than twelve Death Eaters had ambushed them. He had no doubt that some of the people he worked with – his friends – were dead. But not his Lily. It couldn't be his Lily.
Gathering all of his strength to his upper arms, he pulled away scraps of metal violently, not thinking about using magic, not stopping to consider the fact that he was hurting himself. Not stopping to think about what would happen once he found Her. When he did, she was lying alone, a thin trail of blood running down her forehead from her scalp. Her neck and face were bruised, leaving patterns of blue, purple and a pale yellow colour across her skin.
"James?" Remus had followed him. James made no attempt to acknowledge his friend's presence. "Merlin, you found her. We need to move her away from the rubble – James? James, are you listening to me?"
But James paid no attention. He focused dimly on her hair-line, coated with blood. And he remembered.
---
As much as it killed her to say it, she needed my help.
And how do I, James Potter, know this valuable piece of information? Well, she told me as she approached me in the Head Boy and Head Girl tower. Granted, it also involved the word 'moron' and interesting usage of the phrase 'shove it up your arse' but, nonetheless, the message was loud and clear.
She needed my help. And who was I to deny such a beautiful damsel in distress? I told her so, and received a slapping. Thinking back, I probably did deserve it.
Her face flushed as she asked for some strange favour or another.
"… help me reach the Christmas decorations? Flitwick'll go nuts at me if I don't have them up in a few hours." I grinned charismatically.
"Does my Lily flower need some help?" She threw a murderous glare at me, but I didn't care. It was so worth it.
"I asked you to stop calling me that."
"Right you did. You also told me, on that particular occasion, that being Head Boy didn't give me the right to be a moron. But it's just so fun." I told her, only partly serious.
"Don't push it, Potter. Just help me?"
"Hmm, let me think about it. No." She looked completely taken aback. Of course, I had every intention of helping her, but having Lily Evans ask me for something was an opportunity too valuable to pass up.
"What? Why not?" She demanded.
"Not unless you go out with me, Evans." She rolled her eyes at this. I thought she might have actually been considering saying yes. Apparently, she wasn't.
"We've been through this, Potter," she began condescendingly. "The only chance you'll have with me is if you're the last man on Earth, or at least learn how to use the English language properly."
"Oooh, that was harsh."
"Yeah, well." Lily said moodily. I paused, remembering the piece of parchment I had just finished writing, and was keeping in my robes.
"It just so happens that I can kill two birds with one stone."
"Potter, stop talking – or possibly smoking – gibberish, and help me with these sodding decorations!" she exclaimed, sighing exasperatedly. I grinned at her, and showed her the parchment.
"My 'To Do List'," I told her proudly. She cocked an eyebrow, but gave a reluctant grin nonetheless. "As you can see, the first two items on my agenda are, coincidentally-"
"Extermination of the human race, except for the really cool people, and going out with Lily Evans," she interrupted me, smirking. "How very intelligent of you, Potter." I grinned, mentally congratulating myself until she added with a deadpan expression, "That was sarcasm. Now, get these bloody decorations down for me!"
"Oh, all right. Keep your knickers on." I said, and reached up to grab the box. When the decorations were down on the ground, she was, strangely, blushing to her roots. The pink of her face and the carroty colour of her hair set against each other very strangely. She now closely resembled a tomato that had been grown on an orange vine. It was really rather beautiful.
"Thanks Potter." She said dully, and bent to pick up the box. As she walked uncomfortably away from me and towards the portrait hole, I could not resist calling out,
"Your blood clashes horribly with your hair."
---
James stared at her bleeding face, morbidly focusing on her bloody skin. That was all he could think of. That memory of only a year ago, when they had both been still at school. The memory of him telling her how her blood clashed with her hair. He had been referring to her reddening face, her blush which he loved so much. But now, staring at the broken skin against her hair, he felt the words being carved on the inside of his skull, now expressing a new meaning. A sickening, literal meaning.
He never thought he'd think of that moment again. How strange the way that your memory can come back to bite you.
Her blood clashed horribly with her hair.
He had never seen her like this, so forlorn and small. She seemed broken – quite a far stretch from the woman he had known and loved. Knows and loves. James would not permit himself to talk about her as though she were dead. She couldn't be dead. The consequences would completely devastate every fibre of his being. Every molecule in his body.
Her blood clashed horribly with her hair.
Even on the way to St Mungo's, it was all he could think of. The way that the redness of her blood fell into the lighter red strands of hair, mixing and twisting her hair into morbid clumps of red. As they walked her into the Emergency room, it was all James could think of. When he saw her with tears in his eyes, hours later, not looking completely well but conscious at least, it was all he could think of.
Her blood clashed horribly with her hair.
But, he would reason later, at least he'd got the opportunity to tell her again.