The couple paragraphs in italic is Lily's dream. So slanted is dream, non-slanted is not a dream. Yeah.
I NOW HAVE A BETA! YEAH! Thanks Morgan, you rock. Yeah I'm totally mentioning you. How'd you like them apples! Whoo, I will never get over that.
Ch. 4 "White Mansion"
I blinked my eyes open. The whiteness of the Hospital Wing nearly blinded me. The second I woke up, it was like I was hit by a speeding bus. The second I opened my eyes, I was fully aware of the state I was in. And let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.
As if on cue, the door at the end of the empty room flew open, and Madame Hart barged her way in. She scurried over to my bed, feeling my forehead and taking my pulse at the same time.
"Good morning dear how did you sleep did you sleep at all when you came here you were in such a bad state how does your head feel is it still bleeding I don't think it is why don't I get you your medicine can you sit up can you move your arm you don't have a fever here's an extra pillow that's right sit up you need your medicine wait here don't move I'll be right back."
I watched her rush back out the door, and then there was silence. You can't say the word multi-task without Madame Hart coming to mind.
I was in an empty ward in the Hospital Wing; with all the other white beds empty and perfectly made, it gives you a major sense of…aloneness. It makes you want to pray for anyone—your mother, your best friend, your one-legged step-cousin— anyone, to burst through the door and unsettle the silence, create some disorder, break the tension; anything that takes your mind off of where you are.
Madame Hart entered the room again, pouring a large amount of gunk onto a spoon as she walked. "Here, drink this."
Yes, I resisted, but Madame Hart wouldn't see to that. One mannish hand griped my shoulder while the other maneuvered the spoon into my mouth and down my throat. I coughed as the thick liquid burned my throat, and greedily gulped down the water she offered me. She nodded at me, took away the empty glass, of which I was trying to coax the last few water droplets out and into my burning mouth, and left. Whatever she gave me caused my eyelids to feel like twenty-pound bricks, and it was all I could do to keep them open. But I soon gave in, and I was out like a light.
-
The white mansion, gleaming in the distance was one of the most magnificent things she had ever seen. Green ivy snaked its way around the great pillars guarding the door; the green stood out unmistakably against the pure white of the house. The mansion seemed to radiate in all its might, casting a dark shadow over the neighboring houses. Even from her spot on the hill, miles away from the mansion, she could see every detail. Even she could witness its perfection, its symbolism. One of the pearl white doors opened, emitting a breeze of freshness over all that surrounded the great building. She closed her eyes, letting the wind caress her hair, allowing her robes to rise and flap freely behind her. Her arms rose on either side of her, fingers emerging from her closed fists, nestling against the coolness of the breeze. She was free. Nothing could steal this moment from her. It was hers.
She opened her eyes. She wasn't outside anymore. She was inside the mansion, standing in the middle of one of the largest rooms she had ever witnessed. She craned her neck up, looking at the never-ending ceiling. It seemed to go on forever, the pure color never fading. The floor had no carpet; the marble so shiny she could see her reflection in it. The spotless walls bore nothing; the whole of the room was so bright, the girl's eyes watered, but she strained to keep them open. Then something caught her eye. She looked down.
Color clashed with color. Red pouring out from its unknown source, leaving a permanent stain on the white floor. The girl watched it flow steadily, until the entire room was covered in red. Red walls, red ceiling, red floor—hungrily devouring any trace of whiteness, ending its existence. The girl looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a blood-red evening gown, red pearls winking at her against the red silk.
Then she heard the laughing.
It was close, right against her ear. She could feel breath hitting her skin, captivating her in a hot, sticky enclosure. She spun around, but no one was there. She could still hear it, still feel the hot breath, but she couldn't see it. The laughing grew louder, and the breath grew hotter, until it seemed as if it was the entire room laughing at her; mocking her tears, mocking her screams, mocking her desperate attempts to open the locked door at the end of the room.
The laughter rang in her ears; it played with her mind; it clutched her lungs so forcefully she couldn't breath.
By the time she was aware of the hand covering her face, it was too late.
She almost removed the hand. She almost fought back. She almost silenced the laughter. But it was too late. She was falling. She looked up and saw the never-ending ceiling rising farther and farther from her reach. She saw the red walls fly farther and farther from her grasp. She saw the person grow smaller and smaller, until he was a tiny dot in her imagination, and nothing more.
The last thing she heard was crying. Loud, desperate crying that pained her to hear. She wanted to stop the crying so badly— just hold the crying baby in her arms and tell it everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't. It was too late. He had her.
My eyes snapped open and I flew to an upright position, ignoring the stabbing pains running through my body. My heart has pounding and I had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. I had never, EVER experienced a dream quite like that. I was panting slightly, and I looked around the darkened room. How long had I been asleep? Even from my bed I could see the crescent moon glowing against the black night sky. The trees at the entrance to the Forbidden forest swayed slightly, and all was silent. The only sound that was heard was me catching my breath.
I was wide-awake. My dream was the only thing circulating through my mind, and I knew that if I didn't think about it now, I'd be going crazy by the end of the week. Without thinking I grabbed my robe, which was folded neatly at the end of my bed, and dashed out of the Hospital Wing, careful not to wake up Madame Hart. The second I closed the door to the Hospital Wing, I felt free. No one was awake, Madame Hart didn't know where I was, and the only thing I wanted to do was run.
That's where I hit a speed bump.
You see, it's quite near impossible to break into a sprint with your right elbow in a cast, your left ankle in to much bandaging you were a few inches taller, and your left ear and most of your eye covered in gauze. So, because of my state, I, limped I suppose, to the Gryffindor common room.
It took a few minutes of badgering for me to finally awaken the Fat Lady and mumble out the password, and when I entered the room, she slammed shut loudly, informing me of how irritated she was. I retreated to my chair—the tall red one in the far corner of the common room that no one else sat in. It was practically hidden by the shadow of the girls' dormitory stairs and a portrait of Godric Gryffindor, but it was still there. And let me tell you, it was the comfiest chair in the whole room.
Just as I sat down, I heard the portrait door open again, and I scowled. How hard is it for one girl to have a bit of damn privacy?
A mop of black hair protruded through the entrance, silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his narrow nose. James looked up at me and shoved the last bite of a cupcake into his mouth. He swallowed and asked, "What are you doing here?"
The minute I saw him, I had an overpowering urge to conceal all my cuts and bruises. For some reason I didn't want him to see me like this. I leaned as far back into my chair as I could, as far into the shadows as possible. "I could ask you the same thing," I smoothly responded.
He wiped a bit of icing from his lip and stuck his finger in his mouth. "I was hungry. What's your excuse?"
"I don't need an excuse to be down here," I defended.
He simply shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough." He eyed me in my spot intensely and cocked his head. "Why are you all in the shadows? Why don't you come out?"
I blinked, trying to think of answer. "Why not," was the lame product of my intense contemplation.
But he just chuckled. "Okay then, I'll come to you." And he began walking towards me.
"James, you arrogant bastard," I said to him, hoping that I'd scare him off. What is wrong with me?
He chuckled again and kept moving. He was right in front of me, and he held out his hand. His left hand. So I would have to hold out my cast-covered right hand. I froze.
I could see his brow deepen in confusion, and he shook his hand slightly, as if I forgot it was there. Still I didn't move.
He quickly grew impatient. He leaned over, gripped his hands around the two front legs of my chair, and pulled it out into the light. He stood back up and laughed, but then he caught sight of me and stopped. He froze, he didn't move. He just stared.
"Lily," he breathed after a moment's silence.
With my head bent downward, I looked up at James. I felt incredibly small at that moment, with him gaping at my appearance, and me not doing anything about it.
"Lily," he repeated softly.
I looked down at my lap and didn't say anything. I felt my cheeks burning up and I couldn't move. Yep, something was definitely wrong with me.
"Wha—Lily, wha—what happened to you?"
"It's nothing."
He snorted loudly. I cringed. "If you call getting the stuffing knocked out of you nothing, then okay."
I stood up and angrily went towards him. I doubt my limping, bruised self was menacing, but, hey, I try. I went up to him and began jabbing him in the chest, punctuating my anger.
"You (jab) don't know anything (jab). You have no idea what happened to me, or what didn't (jab) happen, so you can just shut your trap (jab)!"
He glared at me, then ran his eyes over my body, and I saw them soften again. "Lily," he began in that same soft voice.
"What?" I snapped, still angry with him.
He sighed exhaustedly. "We have to get you to the Hospital Wing."
"I was just there. I'm fine, James."
He sighed again, and looked me straight in the eye. "When are you going to sleep?"
"Whenever I get tired."
"Will you be sleeping here?"
"No." I was too tired to explain the whole Hospital Wing fiasco.
His eyes darted from mine to the bandaging on my head one last time, then his eyes flickered downward and met mine. "Okay," he said. "I'm still checking on you in the morning, whether you like it or not."
I rolled my eyes and tried to look like I didn't care. "Whatever."
He gave me one last lopsided grin, and trudged his was up the dormitory stairs.
"Night, Lil," I heard him say.
I looked at the spot in front of me where he once stood, and even I couldn't control the smile that jumped onto my face. Then something popped into my head. I had the biggest urge in the world to tell James about my dream. I almost did, too. I almost went upstairs to his room, opened his curtains and told him everything. But I didn't.
My eyes flickered to the nearest clock, and they widened when I found out the time. Even I somewhat doubted that Madame Hart would be awake at 4:30 in the morning, but old people run on a completely different time schedule. Ten in the morning to them is like noon to us. Crazy, I know.
Nevertheless, I got back to the Hospital Wing as fast as I could. I buried myself as deep into the sanitized blankets as I could go, and finally went to sleep.
A/N, read me: Okay, the dream might be a little confusing, but I sort of intended it to be that way. I think I got a little too carried away with the symbolism, so I'm really sorry if you can't make heads or tails of it. The guy covering Lily's mouth, peventing her from breathing, was her fate, in human form, I guess. The man symbolizes...Voldemort, and the fact that because he was a person, Lily could have pushed him away, meaning Lily's death in the books WAS preventable, but once it was happening, she was powerless. That's really the best I can explain it.
All my reviewers, I love you! You people rock my world, full on.