Disclaimer: Seriously? Again? I. Am poor (not really). Therefore, I am not JK Rowling. Geffum?
Contrary to popular belief, reviews help. They give you inspiration. Except for flames. They make you cry. Not really, but they don't help. Criticism good. Burning bad.
James Potter was in hell. Well, not really. He wished he was at times, it would've been something to do, at least. He had already counted the beds (7), the windows (14) the lights (7) the doors (3) the number of chocolate frogs he had been given (106). He had also read/listened to all of his get well cards, his personal favorite being the one from Sirius, which was animated to show the scene when Peter had gotten his head stuck in a toilet.
Had that really been only a week ago?
James picked up his wand for what seemed like the hundredth time in that hour. At first he had amused himself by transfiguring various things around the room. He turned a table in the corner into a carousel, a lamp into a disco ball, and made the normal window into one of stained glass, depicting a single lily, suspended in the air over a back round of crashing waves and rocky cliffs. A full moon bathed the lily in its baleful light. And if one looked closely, they could make out four animals, three large ones, and the fourth quite small, hanging onto one of their shoulders running on the edge of the cliffs.
James sighed as he looked at that window, it was the only thing he hadn't changed back, and no one had made any comment on it when they had come to see him (which happened quite frequently) even though he saw their eyes flick toward it and widen in surprise as they walked over to his bed.
He so preferred being sick at his own him. There were people to talk to (they had many rare portraits of famous witches and wizards) and many things to do. Once when he was five, James had broken his leg jumping out of a window. But in the indoor weeks that followed, James had learned how to play the piano. In fact, he hadn't stopped, and had excelled, surpassing even his talented mother about a year and a half ago.
His face brightened, now there was an idea! He transfigured the table in the corner into a grand piano, and, with much groaning and cursing, made his way over to the bench. These curses and groans were only made because James couldn't otherwise express the pain he was feeling, and the weakness. Every step was a mile, and lifting up a leg for the next step took days. It was a wonder he made it all the way there.
James collapsed into the bench then pushed himself into a seating position. He stretched his fingers, and put them on the keys. He paused to select a song from his repertoire. He glanced at the stained glass window, and chose Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2. It was a rather romantic song, but hey, James was feeling warm and fluffy now that he had something to do. Smiling at the promise of a reprieve, he started on the extremely difficult piece.
His boredom disappeared as he lost himself in the chords and crescendos of the it and he closed his eyes, fingers flying across the keys without a need to look.
The beautiful red head took a deep breath. Lily stood outside the door to the hospital wing, silently steeling herself to enter the room.
It was much harder to go in now that she knew she liked James, but Lily Evans had never been one to back down from a challenge. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped in bravely.
Her mouth went slack in shock.
James Potter, sat in the white seat of a magnificent grand piano, his face scribed with passion, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration.
His battered body glowed with energy, his hands moving in movements so complicated Lily's eyes couldn't follow them for long. Beautiful music filled the room, emanating from the piano, seeming to resonate throughout the core of Lily's being. Her feelings became connected to the music, rising and falling with its crescendos and decrescendos, deepening with its fortes and softening with its pianissimos.
The song changed, rolling through a bridge into something different all together, something even more amazing.
It was if James was projecting himself into the song, which could only have been of his own composition. It was deep and touching, friendship and love intricately linked into the tune, but with dark chords of worry and fear that wove into the piece, making the sweet music into a fight for love.
The piece that was, in Lily's opinion, James Potter himself, picked up speed, with tones of fury and passion, faster and faster until it culminated in deep tones of loss. The echoes of the last chords resonated briefly, and then faded out of existence.
As the chord faded, so did James Potter. His shoulder were now bent as he slumped on his bench. He opened his eyes slowly, hating how weak he felt.
What he saw was his greatest weakness of all.
Lily Evans stood in the doorway, her mouth open, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.
He got off the bench normally. At least, it looked normal. Every movement caused him immense pain, and it was as though his muscles were not there anymore, and only with great force of will and determination did he get off of it.
Standing up, he swayed, legs week and knees wobbly. He grabbed onto the piano as support.
The girl he had loved for so long was in the exact same position as before, in a state of shock.
James grinned tiredly "You're gonna catch flies love."
Lily shut her jaw with a small click, thinking of what to say. "James, about what happened earlier today-" He cut her off. "Lily I know you hate me, and for as long as you've hated me" he looked her in the eye "I've loved you."
She gasped. And the look in his eyes confirmed what he said, the were deep eyes, filled with tenderness, love and care. And at that moment, Lily wanted to have whatever those hazel eyes promised.
"That's just the thing James-" she began again, but James beat her there again "But I c-can't take it anymore. I'm done. I give up. After this, we're, we're just Heads." he looked away.
James thought Lily didn't see how much those words pained him, but she did. Even the stutter in the beginning was like a sharp knife to James, and the words were even worse, cutting away at his heart. That hurt Lily too.
But she wasn't going to take it. Oh hell no.
"Now listen here James Potter!" she yelled at him, her red head temper coming to the surface, "I did not just realize how much I fancy you so you could get all noble and masochistic on me. Nuh uh. I am going to like you, and you are going to like me back with everything you have! Got it?"
All signs of fatigue vanished from him as she said those words, as though they pumped new life into him. Once more, his broken body thrilled with energy. His face lit up in a smile, and Lily's heart melted just a little bit more.
"Lily... Thank you." his words throbbed with sincerity. "For what?" she retorted, still slightly short tempered.
He smiled at her, and his eyes were full of hope and love, "For giving me a chance."
"Yeah well don't mess it up" she mumbled back, mollified.
James laughed, "I'll try not to, but hey, I'm a Marauder, and we mess things up."
Lily stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.
"Now thank you" said Lily, pointing a finger at him. "For what?" replied James, perplexed.
"For that" she said, gesturing to the piano, and then at James.
He laughed again, "Just something I picked up."
That was very modest! thought Lily, slightly shocked. Sometimes the changed James still caught her off guard.
"C'mon" said Lily off handedly, "let's get you back to bed." That short trip to the piano bench had exhausted James, and he didn't much fancy walking back.
James looked at her, "Lily, you have to let me do this on my own," he said, as she made to assist him.
He gritted his teeth and took a step forward. His legs collapsed underneath him. He braced his arms on the floor and tortuously pulled himself back into a standing position. Lily looked on helplessly, James wouldn't even let her think about helping him. She knew that this was a personal thing. James greatest fear was being weak, and he wouldn't let anyone interfere while he dealt with it.
James took another step, legs trembling, his foot slipped out from under him and he caught himself. Unable to find the strength to push himself back up, he crawled forward. His legs were so weak, the most he could do was dig his hands in to the marble, and drag his body towards his bed.
Lily's throat clenched and tears filled her eyes as she watched one of the strongest-mentally, physically and spiritually- people she knew struggle so much, but to still keep going regardless.
James Potter did indeed keep going. He didn't give up, clawing meter by meter, his arms screaming. Finally, he reached the side of his bed. With a tremendous effort of will, James stood up and wobbled. He regained his balance and, gritting his teeth for the final haul, threw his leg onto the bed. With a final heave of his exhausted arms, he landed in bed.
His body was covered with sweat, and he was gasping. But not from exhaustion. James Potter, in plain view of Lily Evans lay down sobbing. How... How can I be so weak... Look at me... It took so much... Just to get to the bed, and I don't know if I can take it. He tried to turn his body toward where Lily was, but his exhausted limbs defied even his will. He just lay there, limp, too weak to move. His sobs quietened into shallow breathing.
Lily watched the whole thing, her heart crying out to him, tears filling her eyes once more. She walked over and sat down beside him, she took his hand and stroked it "It's ok to be weak James" she crooned to him. "You'll get stronger again. This is temporary, keep drinking your potions and you'll be back in no time." He sniffed in agreement. His voice was barely above a whisper, and she leaned close to here it "what if... What if one day, I'm not strong enough to protect you? Do you understand, that would kill me."
"James" Lily declared softly "you're the strongest person I know."
He smiled at that, and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, the ghost of that smile still etched on his lips.
And Lily laid down next to him, wrapping her arms around him. As she fell asleep, she thought fiercely, He doesn't deserve this. No one does, but especially not James. It was a travesty, taking someone so strong and making them so weak. She would've fallen apart and James was starting to. Maybe keeping her arms around him would, in some small way, keep him together.
And maybe, it would help keep her together too.
And maybe, just maybe, it felt just right.