Learning more about the prophecy in 3... 2... 1...

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Art work by the awesome Meg (tumblr: anxiouspineapples)

Borrowed Time

Christmas, 6th Year

Several hours (and Sirius convincing Lily that they shouldn't summon his father because he did poorly in hospitals and might not grasp what was going on anyway — no need to upset him) later, a healer finally came out to give them a much needed update on James' condition.

Lily and Sirius both jumped to their feet.

"Good news," she said kindly. "We were finally able to find a counter-curse for the spell." Lily let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. "This means we were able to heal the wound and seal it. His arm should regain close to complete motor function. The length of time it was open means there will be severe scarring, however."

Lily knew it was a wholly inappropriate response, but she couldn't help it: she snorted. She knew James would have a dumbass crack about his new scar for her — and she couldn't wait to hear it.

"We'll send him home with ointments to apply to reduce inflammation and tenderness." She looked between them. "Will one of you be responsible for ensuring he gets home care…?"

"I will," Lily beat Sirius to the punch. She didn't even mind the knowing look he subsequently gave her. "I can do that."

"Wonderful." The healer turned to her and explained the doses and intervals needed.

Then they were finally allowed to see him. "Prongs!" Sirius yelled, rushing through the door and immediately engulfing James, his arm in a sling between them be damned, into a bear hug.

"Ow!" James cried underneath him.

"Oops, sorry," Sirius said pulling back.

Lily lingered in the doorway watching them, suddenly feeling like an outsider to a family reunion. James' gaze finding her seconds later melted her fear away. "Lily," he spoke softly, reaching for her with his good hand. She gladly walked up to him and took it. "The healers said I had my girlfriend to thank for still having an arm." His smile was a little too pleased for someone who had just been attacked by three Death Eaters.

Lily looked over her shoulders dramatically. "Oh? Where is she? Should I go find her for you?"

Sirius chuckled.

James' grin went lopsided. "Thank you, Lily. Seriously."

She wished people would stop doing that. Didn't they see it was all her fucking fault?

"Okay, okay, get all emotional later, now — tell me, what happened? Did you do the Wronski Feint? The Romanian Roll? How'd you shake 'em?"

Lily and James were both overcome with gratitude that Sirius knew just how to make everyone laugh in this terrible setting.

When the trio returned home, they were inundated by Marlene, Remus, and Peter who had all apparently been informed by the house-elves what had happened, but had been turned away from Mungo's because James had already reached 'patient visitor capacity.' James didn't at all look put out by how much his friends fawned over him as he lay on the (since cleaned) couch. Lily could not share in his ease as all she saw when she looked at that damn couch was flashes of him bleeding out lifelessly.

Lily excused herself to go send an owl (Eros of course, Raven — James' snowy — was still avoiding her) to Dumbledore to tell him what had just happened. She'd written, 'PS Happy Christmas!' because writing to your Headmaster over vacation to inform him of a near death experience wasn't awkward enough as it was.

Lily could never have guessed that Dumbledore would owl back a mere 52 minutes later as everyone was digging into a plate of cookies and recounting their happiest Christmas memories with a hurried little note.

Miss Evans — stay where you are. Do not leave again. I cannot stress this enough. I will visit tomorrow as soon as I can, I must arrange some things first.

Well fuck. That didn't sound ominous or anything.

"Everything all right?" James asked, propped up by pillows, eyeing her curiously as Eros flew back to the owlery.

How he still worried about her, always worried about her, even though he was the injured one surrounded by his doting friends, baffled her. "Yes," she lied, giving him her most convincing smile. She could tell he saw right through it, but didn't want to put her on the spot in front of company. She appreciated the hell out of him for it.

A couple hours later, Lily insisted she bring him to bed for his first round of treatment, naturally garnering her all sorts of jokes. "Oh yes, wouldn't want to get in the way of our man's very special care," Sirius taunted merrily. The boy hadn't left James' side since they'd all gone home, insisting James not lift a finger lest he irritate his injuries. Lily had to admit it was rather adorable to see, even if she thought Sirius feeding him was a bit much. Truth be told though, she couldn't wait to get him alone. It had been a long, terrible day and she just wanted to hold him.

"Shut it, Black," Lily jeered back, lips twitching. "He's hurt. Get your mind out of the gutter."

James got to his feet, paying special attention not to jostle his arm. "I'm not that hurt, Evans."

Lily cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed a finger to his chest. "No."

She bade everyone goodnight and happy Christmas (damn holiday) and ushered James upstairs. As soon as she'd closed the door to his room, she clutched his face in both her hands and brought her lips to his, beside herself with desperation. "I was so worried," she breathed. Her eyes shamelessly took in every bit of his face, so happy that she had the opportunity to even do so.

He traced her cheek back. "I know." He gave her a small smile. "But we're all right. Everything's okay."

Lily sighed choppily. "I'm so sorry." Her nose scrunched, trying to stop herself from embarrassingly sobbing in front of him. "I'm so sorry I put you in danger—"

"Stop," James whispered ardently. "We went out there. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for steering us past the grounds after Dumbledore's warning."

"No. It was an honest mistake."

"Okay. So don't blame yourself, then." Lily nodded reluctantly, trapped by her own logic. "You're too hard on yourself, love." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Now," he smiled wicked, clearly trying to shift the mood, "did you actually get me up here for treatment, or…?"

"Yes," she replied sternly, pointing to the bed and getting his medicine out of her pocket. "I actually did."

"Shame." The corner of James' mouth twitched as he plopped himself onto the bed, removed his sling, and painstakingly tried to strip off his tattered jumper. The twinkling lights that had seemed so festive this morning (was that really still today?) were mocking them with sporadic bursts of fake cheer.

Lily took pity on him. "Let me help," she said, gently tugging the fabric over his head — giggling when his glasses went completely wonky — and shimmying it off his bad arm. "Perhaps you should only wear robes for the rest of the holiday."

"Is that an official suggestion as my healer?" James asked naughtily.

Lily couldn't help but grin at him. "Yes, James."

"So you don't just want me to be shirtless from now on for your own benefit?"

"That is merely a happy coincidence." She swooped down for a sweet kiss before unscrewing the tube of thick lime green paste to apply to James' fresh scar. James crinkled his nose. "Does it hurt?" she asked concerned.

"Nah, just smells very strongly of mint."

Lily rolled her eyes, smoothing out a thin layer down his arm just as the healer had instructed. Biting her lip, to keep her thoughts strictly professional and refrain from objectifying the shit out of her patient, proved necessary too. "You couldn't help yourself could you?" James shot her a quizzical look, so she continued jokingly, "Tell a boy one time his scars are hot and he goes out and gets an even bigger one."

"Damn." James winked at her. "You caught me." Lily put away the supplies onto his nightstand. "Thank you."

"Of course," she replied.

"You know, now I really need to get you a hot healer outfit."

"James," Lily said faux-exasperated. "Please don't belittle my chosen profession like that."

James held in a smirk. "You're right. My apologies. How about that bartending outfit, do you still have that?" Lily, who had settled herself against his good shoulder, backed up her head to give him a look. "What?!" James laughed. "I nearly died today, Lils. It put things into perspective."

"I can't believe you're being glib."

"I most certainly am not! I could never be glib about my how much I want you."

Lily settled back down against him. "It must be so exhausting."

"What?"

"Being so smooth all the time."

"Oh, you have no idea." Lily giggled before they fell into a pensive silence. James broke it first. "I'm sorry Christmas was a bust."

Lily's hand came up to gently stroke up and down his sternum. "The first half was pretty amazing."

"I wish we knew why Voldemort is after you." James' voice was low and scared.

"Dumbledore's coming tomorrow, I plan on getting it out of him then."

James jerked back, trying to see her face. "He is? Can I be there?"

Lily's lips curled. "I figure you'd try to spy on us if you couldn't anyway."

James shrugged. "Nah Lily, I'm a changed man."

"Uh huh."

"Morning students," Dumbledore said to the four faces gaping up at him when he Flooed in the next morning as they were relaxing by the fireplace. "Miss Evans and Mr Potter, a word in private please." Dumbledore strode into the dining room.

Lily and James looked to each other briefly before rushing to follow him.

Dumbledore had sat himself at the head of the table, purple robes gleaming, and motioned for them to sit on either side of him. They dutifully obliged. "Tell me everything."

And so they did. Sorta. They neglected to mention just why they hadn't noticed they were leaving the ward that Dumbledore had failed to inform them of (Lily tried not to bring it up accusatorially), but otherwise they spared no details.

"So their masks left them unidentifiable?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes."

"Hm, seems as though they are getting smarter. They used to just wear the hoods," he mused.

"Lily," James said unexpectedly, as though their retelling of the previous day's events had just reminded him of something. "Next time, perhaps we should try something worse than a disarming spell."

"Like what?" Lily asked.

"I don't know, stunning at the very least?"

"James, we were on brooms. They would have fallen and died," she responded like it was obvious.

Dumbledore smiled omnipotently before clearing his throat, cutting off James' reply. "Miss Evans, I think it might be in your best interest to return to Hogwarts. I can assure your safety there."

"But what about my friends?" Lily pushed back immediately. "If they think I'm here, everyone will still be danger."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "It is a legitimate concern. However, I have full faith in my wards and the two Aurors who have been assigned to guard the perimeter since you alerted me of your attack. As long as everyone stays in," his eyes glanced at them poignantly over his glasses, "you will be safe."

"I think we should stick together," James said.

Dumbledore looked to Lily and she gave James a little smile before giving the older wizard a curt nod. "Very well."

"Professor," Lily was at the end of her rope with being anything but direct. She'd just nearly watched the man she loved bleed out the day before, and slept terribly lying awake thinking about it, for fuck's sake. "Why is Voldemort after me?"

The air froze in the room at Lily's simple but emotional plea. For a minute, there was nothing but the sound of James' knee bouncing against the bottom of the table. "I suppose at nearly 17 years old, you are old enough to know the truth."

Well, that doesn't sound fucking good. Lily couldn't help but panic. Across the table, James was also looking at Dumbledore with insurmountable apprehension.

"You are both familiar with Professor Riya Harris, yes?"

"The Divination professor?" Lily clarified.

"Yes, the one. Well, it appears as though she had a premonition regarding you, Miss Evans."

Lily felt James' eyes snap to her protectively. "Me? But Professor, I don't even know her. I never even took her class!"

"All the same, it seems as though Divination does not work that way. She let us know that for quite some time, she's been picking up," Dumbledore paused slightly, as though he knew how ridiculous his next words would be, "an aura from you, but it wasn't until recently that she was able to interpret it."

"An aura?" Lily repeated dumbfounded.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed plainly.

Lily noticed James was uncharacteristically silent. "So what's this aura say?"

Dumbledore leaned into the table gravely. "Miss Evans and Mr Potter, I hope you understand that what I say here could have terrible consequences if repeated to the wrong people and it is therefore not allowed to leave the confines of this room?"

The seriousness of his statement scared both teens into submissive nods.

"Very well. Riya made a prophecy on July 31st that there were two people Voldemort needed to kill in order to achieve lifelong invincibility. Two people, and two people alone."

It was one of those moments in her life where Lily could have sworn time stood still and she'd left her body and become an outsider looking in. Please don't say James, please don't say James…

"You, Miss Evans, and Frank Longbottom."

"What?!" James finally shouted, sounding mad as hell. "Why does he need to— why is he—?" James couldn't seem to form words, too torn up about Lily's new apparent fate — to die at the hands of a psychopath.

"James—" Lily tried to intervene, but James didn't let her as he was too busy yelling at the messenger.

"No! Tell him he can't have her! Tell him to get someone—"

"James." Lily reached over the table to hold his good hand, presently clenched in a tight fist. "Let him finish," she tried saying comfortingly. She had no idea where her current state of calm was even coming from. She'd just as good as been told she was already dead.

James looked as though he had a thousand more threats and curses lined up and ready to go, but his need to listen to Lily was winning out.

Dumbledore looked at her regretfully, a man hardened by copious amounts of bad news in his life but who somehow still had the capacity to let it all affect him at a deep, sympathetic level. "I am sorry, Miss Evans. I know this is not news you wished to hear."

Lily gathered all the willpower she had left to focus on details. "I guess I don't understand how me and Frank are related?"

Dumbledore nodded to her. "Yes. I'm at a loss there as well. I was under the impression that you two were not well acquainted while at Hogwarts?"

Nope. All she knew was that Frank was a Hufflepuff four or five years her senior. A prefect… maybe? "Correct."

"A perfectly fine gentleman, yes, but we cannot seem to wrap our heads around how you two could be responsible for bringing forth the end of evil."

Whoa. It was weird as hell hearing the prophecy being said like that. How am I expected to do anything? I'm no one special… I'm just… Lily. Just, plain old Lily. How was a 16 year old witch supposed to stop a madman when the most impressive thing she felt like she'd done so far in her life was survive the past year? "Professor, who knows about the prophecy?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "That's where things get tricky, I'm afraid. You see, we were hoping it was only Professor Harris, the woman who she originally told the prophecy to, myself and my most trusted advisors. We were hoping Voldemort would never even hear of this prophecy."

"But he did," Lily said numbly.

Dumbledore nodded. "The protection we provided was just a precaution. That there was someone to protect against seems to imply so, yes."

"How does that happen? Someone must have snitched," James said angrily.

"Unfortunately, I do not know Mr Potter." Dumbledore looked tired, so, so tired.

"How not? If there were really only so many people who heard—"

"James." Lily squeezed his hand, having somehow forgotten they were still even holding them with all of Dumbledore's earth-shattering revelations. She saw him take a deep breath to regain his composure.

"Sorry Professor," he tried again, "I just don't understand how word could have gotten out."

"Short of locking everyone who knew in a dungeon and throwing away the key," Dumbledore shouldn't have said this, it looked like James thought it would have been an all right solution if it meant that Lily didn't die, "there was only so much we could do." Dumbledore bowed his head. "I must apologize though, Miss Evans. I truly did not believe that Voldemort would care for such things as prophecies. That was my mistake. I will not make it again."

Lily believed him. "Is Frank safe then?" Dumbledore nodded yes. Here it goes, the moment of truth: "What am I supposed to do?"

She thought that the wise wizard looked extremely sad in this moment. "Stay alive."

After Dumbledore had left and James and Lily reconvened with Marlene and Sirius, Lily noticed James no longer seemed as amused by their attention to his injury. Instead of basking in being doted upon, it was like James felt Sirius was now pointing out how defenseless he was. Lily saw him bristling when Sirius tried to help him practice doing magic with his left hand. She supposed as someone who often acted like it was his sole goal in life to protect her, being hurt himself had become a clear hindrance.

Lily excused herself a little while later to get some time alone to think about what the fuck had just happened. Not only did she need space to process, but she was also finding it harder and harder to be around James and all his heartbreakingly worried looks in her direction. He kept staring at her like it might be for the last time.

So it was never about recruitment — Voldemort just wants to kill me. At least that made a little more sense than the absolute hogwash Snape had tried to feed her. Did he know? He acted like he was in Voldemort's inner circle, and she'd found that highly unlikely at the time, but if he was… he would have been bringing her in to be murdered for his new master's invincibility. Lily shivered. How could he?

Something that didn't make sense, though, was if they were supposed to kill her, why hadn't the Death Eaters been casting Avada Kedavra her way? She knew from class that it was supposed to be green, but all the spells had been a brilliant array of reds, oranges and purples — not a single green. Yesterday would have been the perfect time to kill her. She'd been on a broomstick, meters and meters up in the sky — such an easy target. But instead, they'd lunged for her and tried to grab her. Why? Does Voldemort have to be the one to do it himself for the prophecy to come true? She supposed someone like that would think he had more important things to do than dillydally outside of a ward waiting for a slip up. Lily knew very little about this evil wizard, but somehow she knew with absolute certainty that he totally would have his lackeys do his boring stakeouts for him. But how did they even know I was here?!

It was almost unsettling how placidly Lily was contemplating her possible murder. She didn't want to say that it didn't bother her, because of course it did, but it also sort of made sense. A small part of Lily had always known she was going to die young — a lamb for the slaughter, as it were. She couldn't explain it — it had always just been there, a feeling lingering in the back of her heart. It was a feeling that had only grown stronger after the death of her parents.

It wasn't like this feeling was something she could discuss with her friends either: telling people you thought you were destined to die before they did would get you awkward-as-hell looks at best, reported to someone for psych evaluations at worst. And Lily very much didn't like the sound of a straitjacket when they would undoubtedly find something wrong with her.

Perhaps this was why Dumbledore's news didn't shake her the way it seemed to be rocking James to his very core. It seemed inevitable. It seemed unavoidable. It was like destiny had finally come knocking and was waiting to take Lily home.

If she really thought about it, Lily supposed this feeling of living on borrowed time had shaped much of her life. She'd tried to mollify James when they were baring their souls to one another in a silly game of 20 Questions, but she actually had thought on many occasions in 5th year that she just might die. As it turned out, she was off by a year. Because at the end of the day, if the most evil wizard of all time saw you as standing in the way of taking over the Wizarding World... what chance did you reasonably have?

Next Chapter: Fallout