Petal in the Rain
Chapter 17 – I Will Come Back
"The first thing I knew was...dust started to fall on me. The floor gave way...and I immediately realized what was happening. The roof came down...I covered my head with my hands...and wondered—frankly—whether this was the end."
-Battle of Britain bomb survivor
With a sharp crack, James Potter appeared in a trash-strewn alley just down the street from his London manor. The bricked passage was inconspicuous and smelled strongly of rotting garbage, the reason he often apparated there; muggles didn't find it particularly inviting. He looked up and down the alley, ensuring he'd not been seen or followed.
It was uncomfortably hot; he pulled at the collar of his weather-beaten air force uniform, the heavy cotton irksome in the summer warmth, then tucked Sirius' wand into his jacket pocket. Wasting no time, he hurried out of the shadowed alcove and into the unhappy afternoon sun.
London was not itself.
There were clusters of people on the streets huddled together, whispering frightfully or bent over obscured shapes on the ground. A few shopkeepers were boarding up windows, though most of the surrounding buildings were in ruin, reduced to piles of rubble and glass. The roads—some of which had gaping holes down the middle—were empty of cars, though the odd fire-truck sped by, sirens flashing bright crimson.
No...
A sickening feeling crept into James' stomach; his heart beat erratically in his chest. He tried not to register the surroundings, fearing distraction, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the horrific destruction that rushed by him as he began to run.
Just keep going...stay focused...
It looked like a tornado had ripped through the city. Banks, shops and offices had sections blown out of them, while some buildings had simply been flattened. Thick trees had been uprooted where they had been planted. Lamp posts had been twisted into pretzel-like shapes. Cars were upturned in the streets, some appearing to have been swallowed up by the unnatural, mouth-like fissures in the pavement.
Nearby, a woman sat among the remains of a fallen building, a little boy limp in her protective arms. She was sobbing into his messy blonde hair, pleading with him to wake up, as if he had the choice...
James choked back the grief that threatened to paralyze him, fiercely pushing forward. His legs and lungs burned in protest, but he did not heed the physical pain; the despair around him was enough to fuel his adrenaline and heighten his sense of urgency. A couple times he had to double back and take an alternate street, the damage to the roads and buildings so severe that he couldn't get through the rubble. He soon became frantic.
Need to get to her...need to hurry...
When James saw the final intersection he picked up speed, his fearful heart lodged in his throat. He knew once he turned the corner the school would be in sight and Lily would be within reach...
"FUCKING MERLIN!" he shouted out in wild infuriation, veins pulsing menacingly in his neck as he came to a sudden halt. His frenzied eyes scanned the large hillock of rubble that blocked his way down the street, looking for a way around it. He tried to think of a plausible approach to overcoming the debris, but could think of nothing in his harried state. It would be nearly impossible to climb—never mind dangerous—but he knew no other way down the road.
I'm so close...
James was tempted to apparate beyond the wreckage, but knew there was a good chance he'd end up under it. He hadn't any idea of how far the ruins extended, or what damage lay on the other side.
I can use magic...but the Order has probably placed a trace on Sirius' wand...
He'd have little time to find Lily and escape if he performed magic, especially if muggles witnessed the spectacle; both the Order and Ministry would be on his tail then. He could not only be thrown out of the Order for, yet again, disobeying direct instruction, but also have his wand snapped for compromising the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
James weighed the consequences. It didn't take long for him to decide.
"REDUCTO!" James bellowed, a path blown through the wreckage before him.
As he forcefully ploughed through the shards of brick and metal his anger dissipated, replaced with dread. He broke into a ferocious run again, his heart painfully hammering in his chest as he looked about the street...
Most of the buildings down the boulevard where St. Madeline's was sited were completely demolished—reduced to masses of dispirited rock and iron. Electricity polls along the street had fallen to the ground, live wires fitfully shooting sparks in all directions. One of the trees bordering the street had caught fire; it smoldered tranquilly, dying a lonely death.
James stopped before the school grounds. A sign reading "St. Madeline's Boarding School for Young Girls" was hanging at an odd angle at the top of a disfigured gate, unhinged. It gently swayed back and forth, making an awful creaking sound.
"JAMES!" she shouted, hanging out of the attic window.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the woman who had provided him with the ultimate birthday bequest, looking sullen. He hadn't wanted the dream to end...
"Yes?" he inquired, hope resonating in his deep voice.
"My name...is Lily."
The boarding school was a nameless ruin now, crushed by a German bomber. The surrounding trees were dead, the grass a black, lifeless colour. The spirit of the school had been vanquished, along with the hopes and dreams of its murdered pupils.
"You mean us," he said, his face becoming serious.
"What do you mean, 'us'?" she flushed.
"You must know I have feelings for you?" he demanded, suddenly feeling insecure. "I don't recall formally asking if I could court you, but I still thought there was...an 'us'."
"I just…why would you want someone like me..."
For a moment, time stopped. James was painfully trapped between romanticized memories and brutal realities. He wasn't sure which to take shelter in, as neither would offer him reprieve.
"Lily...?" he whispered pleadingly, feeling numb as he sunk to the ground before the mangled gate. A distant, detached look crept into his eyes, which became blurred with hollow tears.
She slinked her arm around his neck and pulled him into a soft kiss—a kiss which he returned with simmering passion. He gently pushed her onto the sand and positioned himself atop her, tenderly pinning her to the ground. She entangled her fingers in his hair to deepen the kiss.
"Don't you know?" Lily whispered to him, not shying away from his gaze. "There's no place I'd rather be than here with you."
James was curled up on the ground, his knees touching his forehead and his eyes closed. His shoulders shook uncontrollably. He wanted the memories to stop; they tortured him worse than any curse could. He couldn't handle the thought of...that she...he couldn't...wouldn't...believe that she was...
"Are you alright, son?" a deep, benign voice sounded above him. James slowly lifted his head, looking up into the worried face of an older man dressed in a black cassock.
In an instant, James had lept to his feet and, without even thinking, grabbed the priest by the lapels of his shirt. The priest's eyes widened in astonishment as James roughly shook him. "Tell me the girls in St. Madeline's were evacuated before the bombing! SAY IT, OLD MAN! SAY IT!"
The priest's face softened as he gained understanding. He looked upon the tormented man with genuine pity, troubled by the grief and anger that was gnawing away at him. "Those with wealthy parents were shipped out of the country a few weeks ago…only a couple girls and nuns remained behind. The fire department searched the wreckage this morning...I'm so sorry, but there were no survivors."
The priest's answer rang in his ears, the phrase 'no survivors' playing over and over again like a broken record. James released him, his face scrunched up in fervent denial. The priest thought he looked crazed...heartbroken...on the verge of violence like a helpless animal backed into a corner. Out of self-preservation, the cleric stumbled away.
"I don't want you to go," She was crying when he pulled her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head as he looked out into the misty distance. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to turn around and walk away from her...
"I'm going to come back for you," he whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible over the soft rain. "I promise you."
James moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and roughly running his hand through his hair. He had mustered the strength to leave Lily that day, upset and alone in the orchard where he and Sirius had played as children. He'd told her that he was fighting to keep her safe...promised her he'd be back...that they would be together again. He was a fool.
"I don't need to meet the girl, James. The way you speak about her, the way you flushed that disgusting shade of pink when I suggested courtship, the amount of concern you're showing for her condition—that's enough to convince me she's special."
He collapsed to his knees, powerless. Tears rolled down his anguished face. He looked up into the hazy sky, searching for any earthly sign of the woman he'd left behind...an angelic message that would soften his agony.
She's dead...and it's my fault.
It was painfully clear to him now. He'd run away from the best thing that had ever happened to him...fled into the familiar arms of sadness and loneliness, which had embraced him since birth. It was his cowardice—his inability to embrace happiness—that had led to Lily's premature death.
I abandoned her...left her in danger when I should have taken her away with me, somewhere safe...somewhere we could have been happy...
James screamed out in mangled fury, grief and guilt possessing his mind and poisoning his heart. He wished he could've died in her place, that his body was the one that lay broken beneath the wreckage of the school.
I'm sorry, Lily...I'm so sorry...
His agonizing sobs mingled with the blaring sirens of fire trucks, strangled cries of those trapped or injured, and weeping of those who had also lost loved ones.
There was nothing but sorrow in London that day.
Author's Notes
Dedicated to all those who have lost their lives because of war, and those who have lived and suffered such a loss. May they all rest peacefully.
-pratty-prongs-princesse