HELLO LOVES!

I'm in such a good mood today, (and somehow I actually have a chapter ready) so I thought I'd update a bit early. I was going to post on Friday, but like I said, I'm in a phenomenal mood today.

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS. I love how everyone seems so happy that Ron bit that healer lol. That healer is a bit of a dick ngl.

Please review and let me know what you think ;)

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

As always, for Sable and Lais xxx

This chapter is dedicated to Jhuffy, because she is amazing and I still can't believe she reviewed every chapter. WHAT?! That's why this chapter is for her and I am still in shock that she did that. THANK YOU again lovely xoxox


She flies into the building like a tornado, crimson hair whipping out behind her, bright green eyes darting about frantically; worry carved deep into her features.

Ron's message had been so vague, so rushed. She'd clambered off her bed, wildly brushing her hair out of her face as she sent her own rushed message to Frank—the first person that came to mind—asking him to let Harry, Dorea, Sirius and Hermione know that something had gone dreadfully wrong and to meet her at St. Mungo's.

Before she knows it, she'd left the house in one of James's shirts and a pair of navy blue jeans shorts that she'd cut out of a pair of jeans. It is only as she walks into the hospital that she begins to process properly what she'd heard.

James and Remus are injured, Michael is dead, there had been an ambush.

Lily ducks and weaves around Mediwizards in lime green uniform robes, her focus entirely set on the reception desk.

Instead of the receptionist—who appears to be away or on break—there is a Healer standing on the other side of the tall, smooth mahogany counter. He looks very cross, and he is lazily sorting through a short stack of parchment, absently placing them in piles on the desk attached to the other side of the counter.

"Excuse me," Lily says, tightly smiling at the man. She begins to tap her foot unconsciously. Please let them all be okay, she pleads silently, her heart squeezing painfully. She swallows thickly and tries to remain calm. It will all be okay. They will be okay.

A loud bang comes from behind her and Lily jumps instinctively, her heart galloping out of her chest. The doe in her wants to make a break for it, to put as much space between her and this loud place as it can. She takes a deep breath, and turns—wide eyed— her full attention back to the Healer.

She realises that he is shooting a judgemental look at her feet and she bows her head to follow his train of sight, and is greeted by the sight of one fluffy purple sock on one foot, and a short yellow one on the other, then to top it off nicely, a pair of mismatched trainers.

She smiles sheepishly at the Healer, who gives her a droll look and exasperated sigh in return as his gaze shifts back to her face. She notes that his eyes linger on the tattoo on her neck and his displeasure only becomes more evident.

"How may I help you?" The man asks, reaching up to scratch the side of his face, loosely clutching the remaining pieces of parchment with his other hand.

"I received news that my husband and my friend were brought in a while ago, and that they are severely injured, could you perhaps—"

"You're with the crazy ginger and the mutt?" The man frowns deeply, cutting her off.

"I...I beg your pardon," Lily says, aghast, her mouth agape and her hands balling into fists at her sides.

The man clicks his teeth together, "yea, they're being tended to. You can take a seat over there." He jerks his chin dismissively in the direction of the waiting area.

Lily instinctively glances over her shoulder at the small waiting room with its' rickety wooden chairs: there is an older witch minding two small children playing with noisy toys (the boy has a finger sticking out of the middle of his forehead and the girl is hiccoughing small flame bursts), a young man whose face is swelling slightly on the right side and oozing a thick, neon blue substance, and finally an elderly gentleman—sitting with a glum looking witch who can't be more than twenty-five—gazing off into the distance muttering incoherently.

Lily faces the man once more and notices the nasty bite mark on his forearm—there are irritated red welts rising up around the broken skin. Good, Lily thinks.

"I'm sorry, but maybe you didn't hear me...I said that I received news that my husband and my friend were badly injured—"

"Look lady, I told you that they are being treated. Now why don't you be a good girl and take a seat in the waiting room like I told you to," The healer says, voice dripping with contempt and condescension.

Lily grinds her teeth together, narrowing her eyes into slits, she leans forward, tiptoeing and placing her forearms on top of the counter. She looks him dead in the eye, and whilst putting emphasis on every syllable that falls from her lips, she slowly says, "Where. Is. My. Husband?"

"Bitch. I suggest you do as I asked."

Lily's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, and a trenchant growl rips from her lips. She is this close to diving across the counter and strangling the crude wanker, but she reins it in at the last moment. She doesn't wish to be removed from the premise for suffocating a Healer.

"I suggest you tell me where my husband and friend are before you live to regret it," Lily says with a thin lipped smile. She is digging her nails into the centre of her palms as hard as she can to prevent herself from doing anything rash, and she's almost positive that she's drawn blood.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to sorting his papers, outright ignoring her and under his breath he mutters, "crazy cunt."

She should be given an award for not at least punching the bastard.

"Fuck you," Lily hisses as she steps back from the counter, flicking her hair over her shoulder whilst she storms past the counter and down a corridor to the right.

The man makes a loud noise, dropping the rest of his papers on his desk and chases after her. With a few long strides, he catches up and gruffly grabs her arm.

Lily clenches her jaw, curls her fist and whirls around, slamming her fist straight into his face and connecting cleanly with his long, crooked nose. Something tells her this isn't the first time this lovely gentleman has been punched in the face.

The healer cries out in surprise and anguish, hands immediately going to his face as he releases her and then stumbles backward.

"Dickhead," Lily spits as she turns on her heel and continues on her way.

She hurries down the corridor, glancing into every room she can. She isn't sure what she's looking for exactly. She just keeps going, hoping that she'll find them some way or another.

The corridor never seems to end and she realises that she's probably on the wrong floor. She should be on the Fourth Floor.

She doesn't know when she starts to run, but before she knows it she's sprinting down the halls, flying up stairs until she reaches the fourth floor. She'd only been here once to visit Marlene, when she had been hexed by a jealous Slytherin that was a year younger than them (when they were Sixth years).

Lily has no idea where she is, her chest is constricting painfully and it all begins to spin. Her chest is rising and falling quickly as she tries to catch her breath, she shakes her head violently and swiftly slaps her cheeks thrice.

With determination she sets off again, around bend after bend until finally she sees it.

There is a small pool of blood outside of one of the rooms, and her heart plummets into a bottomless abyss, her throat closes entirely, and she barely catches herself by getting her arm out in time to brace herself against the wall.

The tears pour down her cheeks, the fat teardrops gathering on her chin and her body trembles.

They are going to be okay.

They are going to be okay.

They are going to be okay.

Lily furiously wipes away her tears, and stands up on wobbly legs, sniffling loudly. Her vision is blurry and muddled as she heads towards the door.

Her fingers shake as they wrap around the doorknob, she drinks in the air deeply before letting it shudder out of her slowly. She can do this.

She twists the knob, tentatively entering the room, and her brain cannot process what it's seeing. Everything is happening so fast, and there's so much yelling.

One of the Healers turns around and looks at her, she can see his mouth forming words but she can't hear any of it. He steps away from the bed and she catches a glimpse of the crimson stained sheets, of the wizard's abdomen.

It's James. She just knows it.

Then she's being lifted from behind and she screams, she's kicking and lashing out and wriggling around as hard as she can, but their firm grasp doesn't let up even an inch.

After a few moments she stops struggling, she's spent, all of her energy dissipating into thin air.

They put her down, and then they spin her around and she sees familiar, kind blue eyes. She sees ginger hair, and that's when she loses it completely.

The ginger simply pulls her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair gently and murmuring words of comfort that she barely hears. All she can do is cry.