A/N: Just a clarification with reference to the last sentence in Chapter 7; Lily didn't identify the stag as James, but in the last moments of consciousness, right before she fell asleep, she subconsciously associated the stag's eyes as James's eyes. Just wanted to mention as well that you guys are marvelous and I love you all. Thanks for all your great reviews! You can't imagine how much I love them. Well, here is the eighth chapter (we are definitely progressing). Enjoy!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling refuses to write about the great Marauders and the one and only Lily Evans. Her loss.
o o o
Chapter VIII: I Know What You Did in the Hospital Wing
The ray of sunlight came through the open curtains, pure and bright.
Directly into my left eye.
I woke up with a jolt, groping around the bed to find my pillow to cover my face from the offending light. It was at that most opportune moment that I remembered that I was in the Hospital Wing, and they have been experiencing a pillow shortage of late. Courtesy of, who else but, Potter, himself. I collapsed back into the metal bed, and found it kind of aggravating when it creaked loudly.
Sometimes I feel like the world just wants to eat me, digest me slowly to a pulp in its stomach and then regurgitate me.
I had a weird dream last night. Imagine: I was telling a stag beside the whomping willow under a full moon that I liked Potter. I must have taken a mouthful of oxygen up there with the hippogriff and gotten slightly high. I mean; I would never wander around the whomping willow under a full moon. Unless I had the mad urge to become a werewolf, with regards from Remus. I rolled around in the, if I may add, uncomfortable, creaking and pillow-less, hospital bed, hoping that Mrs. Palfrey would show up soon at let me out. I hate the sterile air in Hospitals (even if it's just a single wing), and besides, I feel perfectly fine. Really.
"Lily?"
Actually, I take that back, I feel a fever coming on.
Trust Potter to come find me at, what time is it? Eight o'clock in the morning, on a Saturday, the day after my life was almost brutally cut short.
"Lily, can you hear me?" he asked, a little too loud for my taste.
I decided I might as well answer before he starts to shake me and calls Mrs. Palfrey to 'revive' me.
"Hhmuff," I muttered intelligently.
James sat down on my bed, and peered down at me, a look of concern on his face. This would have been true had Potter been able to look even slightly concerned for me. We are talking about James Potter, let's not forget.
"Lily, how are you feeling?" he asked again, to which he quickly added, "If you can't answer just nod or shake your head, and if your neck hurts you don't have to do that either: just blink twice for good and once for bad, but if you eyelids hurt, well…"
My head was staring to hurt, so before he could continue with the probably never-ending list of different things I could do I interrupted him, "Why are you here?"
James seemed genuinely happy to see that I was well enough to answer, and then his face fell slightly when his nervous system (slightly slow, if I may say) delivered my question to his brain.
"I wanted to see if you were okay…I…well…I was worried about you."
He sounded completely sincere. Which caught me off guard. That was possibly the nicest thing a guy had ever said to me. How had that been able to come from Potter's mouth? But I couldn't let myself dwell on that thought, something warm had spread through me and I wanted to forget it, ignore it as best I could. James couldn't actually care about me. It was impossible.
"Does Mrs. Palfrey know you're here?" I snapped abruptly.
James suddenly looked cornered, "Erm…well...ah…you see…"
"She doesn't," I concluded.
"Lily, you have to understand my reasoning: Mrs. Palfrey hates me, and well, she knows you aren't exactly fond of me, so she would probably ask you if I could visit you, and the possibilities of you letting me visit you aren't really high," he trailed off and then he turned his hazel eyes on me, and I felt something weird, "I really wanted to see you, Lily."
Was I really that cruel to him? Why did he want to see me so badly? I avoided his eyes, those hazel eyes…I just couldn't look at him in the eyes, they were too real…and there were so many emotions in them I couldn't even begin to understand. I felt helplessness surround me, I was just so confused.
I entertained myself by staring pointlessly at a certain fold in the white sheets. I felt James shift his weight on the bed.
"Thank you," I whispered, still not making eye contact with him.
James came closer to me, "What? I'm sorry, I can't hear you."
I raised my head and was caught in his eyes, "I wanted to thank you: you saved my life yesterday…I would have died if you didn't catch me."
He had to hear me that time: he was so close. I could feel him breathing. I wasn't thinking straight anymore. I felt my face inch forward. His eyes were just so sincere. So beautiful. His warm hand gently brushed my cheek. There was hardly any space between us. My breath caught in my throat.
"Ms. Evans?"
The spell shattered around me and I fell back onto the bed, not even daring to look at James. What had just happened?
"Ms. Evans?"
James dove under the bed in one smooth move. Quidditch reflex is the only way I can find to explain it.
Just in time, because the second after Mrs. Palfrey yanked apart the separation curtains to let herself in. She looked at me sternly from over her thick glasses.
"Ms. Evans, are you mute from your fall that you find it so hard to answer me?"
"I'm sorry," I offered meekly, hoping to every god in creation that she didn't see James.
She analyzed me slowly for any sign of deceit before she nodded, satisfied.
"Good. How are we feeling?"
"Um…fine?" I attempted. Anything to get her out of here. I was acutely aware that James was right underneath me, and I didn't even want to think what she would imagine if she found him.
She raised her eyebrows, "Are you asking me a question, Ms. Evans?"
Wrong tack, "No! I was just saying: I'm fine. Really."
"Really? Let me tell you, Ms. Evans, no one can fall more than 50 ft. and tell me they are fine the next morning."
I thought I just did, "But I didn't fall 50 ft to the ground, so technically I could be fine. Now if I fell 50 ft to the ground then I wouldn't be fine. But, since that isn't the case, I find myself fine, better than I have ever felt."
Mrs. Palfrey blinked and then frowned. After taking a moment to readjust her glasses, she started to mix the various potions on the bedside table, "If you say so, Ms. Evans."
Fantastic, now she thinks I'm crazy.
"Just find yourself grateful that Mr. Potter is quick on his feet as was there to stop your 50 ft fall to the ground."
I was completely silent at her words. I definitely didn't want to talk about Potter. Not with the subject in question underneath my bed.
But our dear Mrs. Palfrey just had to press the issue. She turned around, eyeing me with surprise, "You don't find yourself grateful, Ms. Evans?"
"No! I mean, yes! Of course! What I meant was yes, I do find myself grateful," I answered quickly.
"If I were you I would thank him at the first chance I get. He's a fine young lad, to say that I found him insufferable before."
I shifted awkwardly, "Right."
"You just don't find boys like him anymore. That is true chivalry; saving a helpless girl from certain death."
This conversation was starting to seem a bit surreal to me, "I wasn't helpless."
She turned to stare at me, "What?"
"I wasn't and am not a helpless girl."
Mrs. Palfrey laughed, and I didn't see her as kind old lady anymore, "You're a girl, are you not? You're not a boy."
Really, lady? I hadn't realized.
"That wasn't the part I was referring to: I am not helpless."
Mrs. Palfrey suddenly seemed sort of uncomfortable, looking at me like if I was insane, "Um…that's right, dear. Well, there is a nice boy at the door that wants to see you, so drink this up and I'll let him in, alright?"
She didn't really give me time to answer. She darted away, shooting me one last frightful glance. Too bad, I had a great reply ready. Instead, I quickly swiveled and looked under the bed, to find James uncomfortably squished into the little space there was between the metal springs and the tile floor.
"You have to get out of here," I told him.
He looked at me and gave me a forced smile, "Yes, please."
"Do you think you could run for that…" I didn't have enough time to finish my thought before James was pushing me back onto the bed.
"Shoes!"
Funny how I understood what he meant perfectly. I quickly settled myself onto the bed, and not a moment too soon. I stared incredulous at the 'nice boy' Mrs. Palfrey had referred to.
What was Snape doing here?
"Don't think I'm here because I care, mudblood, because I don't," he drawled.
Such heartfelt words, I find myself overwhelmed by all the emotion. I don't know how but I felt James tense under the bed.
"I hope you recently performed your annual washing; I wouldn't want my limited breathing space to become infected," I countered.
He seethed and took a step forward, his greasy hand on his wand, "Watch your words, you dirty…"
"What? Mudblood? Please, don't be fazed by my presence, feel free to insult me your puny heart's desire."
He seemed ready to kill me, and I wouldn't have been surprised to find myself hexed. But, luckily for me, he refrained from such violent acts and instead tersely drew in a deep breath. A cruel smile suddenly spread on his face, "I was here to make sure you weren't using the lame excuse of falling off that Hippogriff a few feet to abstain from the ball."
"I could have died," I snapped at him.
Okay, so that was a little bit feeble as a comeback, but I had to say something, and at least that was the truth. Someone had to build up the drama.
Snape rolled his eyes, flicking back his shiny (that would be the grease) black hair, "Fortunately you didn't."
What is this? Severus Snape cares if muggle-born Lily Evans dies?
"I will remind you that I find myself revolted at the thought of attending the ball with a filthy mudblood, but the expression on your boyfriend's face is a priceless opportunity that I cannot miss."
I thought so.
"He is not my boyfriend!" I hissed.
Severus leered, "Really? Then how would you explain the fact that he is under your bed, mudblood?"
I gaped at him. I couldn't move. I felt my mouth dry up and I found it hard to breathe. I wouldn't have minded dying at that very second. This was the end of my social life at Hogwarts. God, the embarrassment. No one would ever believe the reasonable explanation.
James jumped out from under the bed and didn't waste his time in stepping fiercely in front of Snape.
"You are going to apologize to her for calling her that name, you filthy and miserable excuse of a life," James growled.
Snape paled a bit, but his spiteful smirk remained where it was, "What, mudblood?"
James whipped out his wand in one smooth move and pointed it straight at Snape's chest, his hazel eyes were flashing in anger, "Take that back. NOW!"
"Why, lie, Potter? She is what she is, and will be," he said the name Potter as if it was a curse.
James looked ready to hex him to Mt. Kilimanjaro.
"I would also like to remind you that she asked me to the ball, not you," Snape sneered, taking out his hidden ace. He was getting way too much out of that. James seemed hurt for a second and then jabbed his wand into Snape's torso.
"James! Don't!" I ordered, stepping out of the bed and, against my own will, putting myself in between James and Snape.
That must have been a very long fall; my brain seems to have lost a few wires along the way.
James stared at me and Snape was looking at me with an expression of mixed surprise and disgust.
"Why? He deserves anything that comes to him after calling you that…that" James struggled to find the appropriate word, his face a grimace, "…name."
"Because if you hex him, then you will be the one to get a detention, not him. And, well, the ball is in a few days and I wouldn't want to spoil it for you," I finished rather lamely. I couldn't even bring myself to look at James.
Snape suddenly let out an ugly laugh, "How touching."
That's it.
I turned around, my dark red hair flying around me and grabbed Snape by his oily collar, "You are going to regret saying that you wretched, miserable, oily, disgusting, pitiful, filthy piece of low life."
I could feel James staring at me in shock, which is a word far too light to describe Snape's expression. And far too mild to describe the expression on Mrs. Palfrey's round face.
"MS. EVANS! Put him down this INSTANT!" the old nurse cried out.
If she had a mere doubt that I was insane before, she must have been on the verge of calling the insane asylum now.
I instantly let go of Severus, who stepped away from me as if I were a psycho maniac. I felt like crying. Not only was my social life ruined, but now I can't even imagine how many detentions I would get. I had never gotten a detention before.
"I'm…I'm sorry, Mrs. Palfrey, that really wasn't my intention. I'm sorry," I offered submissively.
The elderly nurse sighed, and I am sure she was thinking of the many ways she could punish me. Old ladies are cruel people under their played up act of kindness.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you to the headmaster, Ms. Evans. Such behavior was certainly uncalled for."
My world was crumbling around me. And it hurt. Deeply.
James suddenly stepped forth, "Mrs. Palfrey, I know you have a lot to do right now, as you are the only nurse in such a large hospital with so many patients, so if I may, I could accompany Ms. Evans to the Headmaster's."
Mrs. Palfrey readjusted her glasses, "Mr. Potter? May I inquire as to why you are here?"
James smiled his most heartbreaking smile at her, "I came to see how Ms. Evans was doing; I felt responsible for her well being after yesterday's incident."
I can't believe Mrs. Palfrey blushed at James's smile. She's over SEVENTY! And he is only 17. I should know: his birthday is the day before mine. How infantile of her.
"Why of course, what a gentleman you are to propose such a thing," Mrs. Palfrey gushed, that lady need to get herself a backbone; yesterday she hates him with her entire soul and now she suddenly loves him.
James smiled at her once more and then grabbed my hand and quickly led me out. I would like to point out at this moment that I am still in my white hospital nightgown.
"I can't get a detention!" I cried out the second I was out of earshot of the Hospital Wing.
James looked at me, an amused expression on his face, "They aren't that bad."
I glared at him, "Easy for you to say: for you it's a daily ritual. But I have never had one before; I have the right to worry."
"I wouldn't worry if I were you: Dumbledore won't give you a detention."
I looked at him suspiciously, "How do you know that?"
He shrugged, "I don't know, but I can bet you that he won't. Who could give you a detention: the perfect Lily Evans."
"Are you making fun of me, Potter?" I snapped.
"I would never make fun of you, Lily."
I didn't answer, but it seemed to me like that had been a bare faced insult.
"You called me James," he suddenly spoke up.
I looked at him, confused, "What are you talking about?"
"Back in the Hospital Wing; you called me James, not Potter."
"A momentary slip of mind," I covered up quickly.
"No, it wasn't."
"What do you mean: it wasn't?"
James grinned, "You called me James because, even though you might not want to admit it, you think about me constantly and in your mind you call me James."
I gaped at him, "I am sorry to burst your bubble, but I do NOT think about you at all! In fact, sometimes I don't even remember your name."
Okay, so that was a bit farfetched, but I had to say something.
"Liar," he smiled.
Oh, really?
I glared at him and then began to walk faster, "You can leave, Potter; I don't need anyone to escort me anywhere, and much less you. Why don't you go have fun throwing stinking sap on a first year student?"
I knew that hurt him, and somewhere, deep inside me I felt guilty for having caused him that pain. It must be the medication Mrs. Palfrey gave me.
"Lily, wait! Lily!"
I don't why I stopped, really. That must be some really strong medication.
James halted in front of me, "I'm sorry, Lily, I didn't mean to offend you or anything."
I analyzed him, he seemed truly sincere…
And I felt that weird unnamed feeling surge through me again. The medication must have some weird strange effects that act up around hazel eyes. Very intense and deep hazel eyes.
"PRONGS! Mate! Where have you been?" someone screamed down the hall, shattering that…well…momentary lapse of sanity on my part (it is all due to that medication, of course).
Three guesses who.
Black ran right in between me and James and then gave a very high pitched shriek when he saw me. I glared at him, waiting for his explanation.
"Evans? What on NEPTUNE are you wearing?" Sirius asked, clearly shocked.
James nudged him hard in the ribs.
Sirius gave a little cough, "I mean, um…you look lovely…a true girlfriend of Snape's."
It was just all too much.
I almost kiss Potter.
I ask Snape to the ball.
I feel more remorse than I ever thought possible.
I fall off a Hippogriff.
I almost die.
James saves my life.
I dream about a stag under the full moon.
James shows concern for me.
Snape insults me over and over again.
I am sent to the Headmaster's office on the subject of a discipline issue.
And now, Sirius brands me as Snape's girlfriend.
I felt the tears start running down my cheeks and I couldn't hold them back. I didn't want to cry in front of James. I didn't want to cry in front of Black. But I couldn't stop them. Everything was blurred by my tears, but I could see Sirius staring at me, and I could see James reach out for me.
I slapped away James's hand, hard, "LEAVE ME ALONE, JAMES!"
And I ran.
I don't know where and I'm not sure why, but I ran.
Leaving James behind.
o o o
Hint: Good DVD's have special features. Good stories have…interludes?
A/N: This was a mixed emotions chapter: the beginning was quite comical, then, sprinkled in between there were some James-Lily moments, and, finally, the tragic ending. A girl can only take so much without cracking. She did fall off a Hippogriff; we can't blame her. So, stick around, and please don't forget to drop off a nice review. You guys are doing great so far, so let's see if we can get up to 150. I know we can do it; there are over 40 people who have this story on their alerts:) Have a fabulous Friday!
