A/N: Thank you, beautiful reviewers. A couple of things to address: first, I'm sorry about James's bad language, and it's certainly going to be toned down from now on—the last couple of chapters have been very stressful for him, however. Second, I realize that the last chapter was kind of awful, so from now on I will try to get some L/J action (or at least INTERaction) into each chapter. And the plot will kick in SOON.
Previously:
"You okay, Sirius?" asked James.
"Well, what are we going to tell Madame Pomfrey. I mean, she knows about Remus, but what excuse do I have for being in such a state."
James thought hard for a minute. "Tell her you were flying late at night and you fell off your broom. You'll get a detention for being out after curfew and you'll seem damn clumsy, but it's better than being sent to Azkaban for being an Animagus. Hell, I'll come with you. I'll say I was out playing Quiddich with you. We can polish trophies together, eh?"
Sirius grinned. "That's my boy," he said. "Always willing to keep me company in detention." He started to stand up. "But fuck! I am still mad at you for forgetting, Prongs. This hurts like hell."
James levitated Sirius and Peter levitated Remus; the four of them made their way back to the castle without noticing an unconscious Lily lying cold by the Quiddich pitch.
Chapter Sixteen
The Life-Kiss
Just as the Marauders reached the castle gate, James stopped in his tracks.
"Uh, James--?" asked Peter, puzzled.
"Sorry guys, but—Peter, do you mind levitating Remus and Sirius the rest of the way up to the Infirmary?" James asked hurriedly.
"Sure, but—" began Peter.
"Thanks. I was flying at the pitch last night and I just realized that I left my broomstick there. And Slytherin has practice this morning, so I don't want them getting their slimy hands on it," James said earnestly.
"Merlin, James," said Sirius, "have you ever forgotten your broomstick before? In your entire time at Hogwarts?"
"Well no, but…I was distracted last night."
"Ah. Lily," said Remus knowingly.
"Cut it out," said James a little more harshly than was necessary. "We already went over this. I had a little crush, she said she doesn't like me, that's fine. But yes, she did distract me a bit last night." He still hadn't told the other Marauders that she had kissed him, albeit just a brushing of the lips. He'd never kept anything like that from them before. But then, he'd also never before trivialized a crush on a girl. What is it, he wondered, that's so different about Lily? It's like I'm changing now that I'm around her…
But James pushed those thoughts out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. "So Peter, bring the guys up to the Infirmary. I'll get my broom, then report up to see how you guys are, Sirius and Remus. And to claim my detention," he added grimly as an afterthought.
Remus, Sirius, and Peter all nodded their consent.
"Alright, say hello to Poppy for me," James said, and he was off. He walked briskly towards the Quiddich pitch.
When he stepped out onto the pitch, he saw her. Her face was deathly white, and she was sprawled awkwardly on the cold dirt. Her red hair was tangled, splayed about her head. She looked dead.
"Oh my god," he breathed, horror crossing his face. "Oh my god, Lily…" he ran to her, kneeling by her cold, unmoving body. "Lily…Lily…Lily…" James murmered again and again. He felt her hands; they were cold as ice. Her eyes were closed but there was no trace of REM beneath her eyelids. Her lips and fingers were blue; the rest of her skin was unnaturally white.
James ran his warm hands swiftly across her face, thinking that perhaps this would awaken her—it did not. He leaned his head down so his ear rested on her chest just above her heart, but he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He felt for a pulse; there was none.
He was immobile; he couldn't think. He tried to shake his head to clear it…You're a wizard, dammit! he reprimanded himself. He pulled out his wand and muttered a healing incantation. Then he tried Ennervate, but it did nothing.
So she hadn't been cursed or stunned, or otherwise hurt by magical means. Which meant he couldn't revive her with magical means. He tried to think back to Muggle Studies; he'd spent most of that class passing notes with Sirius, but he'd passed all the exams alright…
He thought swiftly, his mind racing as he tried desperately to think of what he could do. He remembered learning something about epinephrine—adrenaline. You had to somehow pump the person full of adrenaline to revive them…give them a shot of the chemical that your body makes naturally during any intense excitement. That's what re-starts your heart.
But he didn't have a shot of adrenaline, and he was sure Madame Pomfrey didn't have any either. Intense excitement…he thought, and then suddenly he knew. He remembered the way his heart would be racing after he woke up from a dream about kissing Lily. He knew…what he had to do.
Hell of a bad situation in which to have your first real kiss. He took a deep breath before looking down again at Lily's pale, still form. He felt something constrict within him—if only I'd have given her my cloak, or guided her back to the castle… he thought woefully. But there was no more time for contemplation.
James leaned down, his messy black hair brushing against Lily's forehead, and he kissed her with all the confused emotions that were racing around and making his head throb, making his heart throb, and making his, er, delicate regions throb. He kissed her cold lips and pressed his hands on her cold face, trying to warm her, trying to revive her. His anger—at her? at Sirius? at Remus? at himself? at his whole fucking life?—coursed through him and into Lily as passion, as heat, as love.
Then, suddenly, he felt something. A beat. An erratic beat of her heart. A shadow of warmth leaking into her face. He felt her lips open almost imperceptibly to return the kiss—she was still unconcious, but her body was responding to James's passion. He had brought her back to life.
But damn was she going to be mad when she found out how.
Assured that Lily was at least stable now, James picked up her limp body in his strong arms and began to run towards the castle. His wand and his broomstick lay forgotten on the pitch, and the first rays of morning were beginning to creep across the horizon.
After ducking through numerous secret passageways, James arrived ten minutes later at the infirmary—he didn't know if his heart was racing because of the physical exertion, or from worry and fear, or from the fact that Lily was lying in his arms.
His arms were full, so James kicked the Infirmary door as hard as he could; he heard something crack, but the door came open. The lights were on as Madame Pomfrey was in the middle of reprimandind Sirius, Remus, and Peter. They all turned at the sound of the door smashing open and they stared open-mouthed at a very flushed James cradling a very unconscious Lily in his arms.
"James," said Sirius finally, voicing what they were all thinking, "what the hell?"
"I," began James, still panting for breath, "I went to, pant, get my broomstick, pant, and, pant, Lily was just, pant, lying there. Unconscious." He decided not to tell them about the kiss; it would just embarrass both Lily and himself, and nobody really needed to know. Besides, when he thought about it, kissing a dead girl was really quite perverted—it reminded him of "Porphyria's Lover."
"Why was she unconscious on the Quiddich pitch, James?" asked Sirius fiercely. "Who hurt her? What happened?" He had an accusatory tone and he looked at Lily worriedly.
"Sirius," muttered Remus quietly, "she went to talk to James last night. Remember? Remember how…" he let his voice fade off.
Sirius nodded tersely, but he still looked to James for a reply.
"I was talking to her last night, then I left to meet up with you guys," James said stonily. "When I went back to get my broom, she…was just lying there. I guess she passed out from the cold before she left."
"Wait a moment, boys," interrupted Madame Pomfrey for the first time thusfar in the conversation. "If Lily was on the pitch and none of you knew…then does that mean that you boys were somewhere other than where you told me?" She looked angry.
"N—yes," answered James uneasily. "I mean, we were playing Quiddich, but not on the pitch. We were just playing over the grounds."
Madame Pomfrey looked like she very much doubted that this was the case, but she nodded. She had more important things to deal with right now, after all.
Sirius and Remus, in their injured states, had been sitting on their hospital beds during the conversation. James had been holding Lily all the while.
"Alright then, boys," chirped Madame Pomfrey. "Remus, Sirius, I'd like you to each drink a little of this potion"—she handed them a foul-smelling concoction—"and James, please put Miss Lily on this bed here," she said, motioning towards another cot.
"Alright," said James awkwardly, now very aware of Lily's heavy breathing making her chest rise and fall against his own. She coughed; he looked fondly down at her. She opened an eye—wait, she opened an eye?!—then closed it, then immediately both of her eyes snapped open.
"Merlin!" she screamed, but the scream quickly turned into a painful-sounding, wracking cough. She retched dryly.
James looked very startled, and a mixture of pleasure that she was alright and unease that she had woken up in his arms flashed across his face. He plopped her down on the bed a little two quickly, and stepped away from her.
"Er," he said.
Finally Lily's coughing spell had ended, so of course she immediately began talking angrily. Her voice was quiet, because she didn't want to rouse another cough, but her voice was nevertheless angry and low.
"James," she said, "please explain to me why I'm here. And why I was in your arms just a moment ago." There would be no skirting of the question.
"Well, erm, you see, Lily…" James began stutteringly.
"Just tell me," she demanded. Her skin was still very white.
"Last night, I left in a hurry—remember?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was gone all night but then I remembered that I'd left my broomstick on the pitch, so I went back to get it."
"What does this all have to do with me?"
"Patience, grasshopper," he said with a goodnatured laugh, "I'm getting to you. So when I got to the pitch, you were sprawled on the ground, unconscious. I think you must have passed out from the cold just after I left you. Is that what happened?"
"How do you expect me to remember? I was unconscious."
"Oh, right. Sorry," said James clumsily. "But anyway, I carried you back up here. That's what happened."
"That's all?" she asked curiously, but not maliciously. It seemed suddenly like all her anger had evaporated and turned into fatigue.
"Well…yes, that's it," James said, trying desperately but failing miserably to forget that weird, life-bringing kiss.
"Hm," Lily said more to herself than to him. "That's odd. I just seem to recall…no, it's silly, I know…but I seem to recall something…some jolt of electricity or…something. Was there lightning last night?"
"No."
"No electrical storm?"
"No; it was pretty clear out."
"Oh…" said Lily with a furrowed brow, and James stood up suddenly, muttering something about needing a glass of water. When he returned, she was fast asleep, breathing regularly apart from some irregular rasps that meant she'd have a bad cough tomorrow. He looked down at her, cheeks now flushed and lips pink again. Eyelids flickering in that way they do…it seemed to James that he ended up gazing down at Lily in the Infirmary quite a lot these days.
He turned to Sirius and Remus (on beds) and Peter (standing uncomfortably in the corner) to find the other Marauders staring at him strangely.
James blushed. "Bye guys…I'm tired too." He rushed out of the Infirmary and back to Gryffindor tower, where he slept heavily.
Peter left the Infirmary soon after James, and the minute the door closed behind their friend, Remus and Sirius turned to one another.
"Jesus," said Sirius solemnly, "how did we not see that before? How did we not know?"
"Well, he did kind of tell us. Last night. He half-told us, at least. He said it wasn't a big deal, though," Remus replied.
"It is most certainly a big deal," said Sirius.
"Very big."
"But…it's just odd. I mean, Prongs has never kept anything from us before, especially not a girl. He's never done that before, has he Moony?" asked Sirius.
"Well, if he'd kept it from us then we wouldn't know, would we?" said Remus dryly. "But no, I don't think he ever has. It is odd."
"Did you see the way he looked at her?" asked Sirius earnestly.
"Oh Merlin you'd better not be going soft on me, Padfoot," said Remus with a grin. "G'night."
"G'night."
And with that both Remus and Sirius turned off their lights, blanketing the Infirmary in darkness. Across the room, Lily opened her eyes. What had she just heard?!
Author's note: Hello, I hope this chapter is better than the last one. And I'd damn well better get more reviews for this one than I did for chapter 15. Please review. It's long. I spent a lot of time on it. PLEASE review. I love you all, and as you might know, the number of reviews correlates directly to the amount of Lily/James action you all get. So get typing smiles winningly
And in case you're curious, here's the full text of "Porphyria's Lover," by Robert Browning. Creeeeepy.
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me--she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!