Author's Note: Final part! I hope you've enjoyed it. Maybe if I get enough kind words I might do a sequel. Hint Hint.
Chapter nine
I'm back from St Mungos. They think Aunt Anna will be alright, though her condition isn't completely stable at the moment.
I think maybe I should explain who Anna is. She's not my real aunt, obviously, because everyone knows I'm the most muggleborn witch in the whole of Hogwarts, with not a drop of magical blood in me. Anna lives on my street at home. She's always been there, since I can remember; picking me and Petunia up from school, watching us when Mom and Dad were away or ill. I never knew at the time, but she is, and was, a witch. The morning I got my Hogwarts letter she was around to our house faster than you could say 'Quidditch'. She was so helpful; she's been like family to me, even though we're not related. I don't think I could have coped so well with the whole new magical world without her.
Petunia on the other hand... I don't think I've ever seen anyone go off someone so fast. One day it was all smiles and hugs, the next... well, she's never liked witchcraft, or magic. So I guess it was only inevitable that she'd not like Anna when she found out she was a witch.
Anyway, back to now. Anna works in the Department of International Magical Co-operation. I don't know what she does, exactly, only that she seems to have been caught up in something fairly serious. She's in what muggles call a coma; any way you look at it she's not out of trouble yet, no matter what the healers at St Mungos might have told me. I know; I've seen programmes on muggle television and I've read books. I know that there's no certainty in medicine.
I'm trying not to think about it, but I'm not getting very far. I'm tired and drained, with no energy left, but everytime I close my eyes I just see her lieing there on the hospital bed, and I find myself too worried to sleep. That's why I'm downstairs in the Common Room, sitting in one of those very large squishy sofas, in front of the dieing embers of the fire at two o'clock in the morning. I'm cold and shivering, but I can't decide whether that's to do with the temperature or just my mental state.
My quill is recording down on the floor under the coffee table, because I haven't the energy to write for myself, even though I am missing the therapeutic feeling of writing. I'm so wound up inside with worry and sadness that I'm not sure whether to feel or not yet.
And I thought I was confused this morning. I mean, yesterday morning. Well, you know what I mean.
- - - - - - -
I can't decide if I've been asleep or not. I'm still sitting here in the Common Room, on the same sofa. Perhaps the fire has died a little further, but I couldn't be sure. My watch is upstairs in my room next to my bed, so I don't know what the time is. I'm still cold, and my arms and legs are stiff from being curled up for this indeterminable amount of time.
Maybe I should stretch a little. Yes, that's better. I can almost feel my tension unwinding.
Almost.
Wait- is that a noise? In the Common Room, at this time? It's still dark outside, so it must still be night. I think it's coming from the staircases. Yes, there's someone coming down the stairs from the boys dorm. I'm feeling the fight or flight impulse, but I've got no energy to move-
"Lily?" Oh my. It's James. And this... This is the last way I'd want him to see me. "James." My voice is cracking in my throat, despite my best efforts. His faces creases in sympathy.
"Oh Lily..." I can't take this any more. I can feel my eyes itching, and I don't think I can stop the pathetic noise that is escaping from me. Not quite a sob, but not quite a gulp either.
"Mmnm." See, I told you so. Now he's coming to sit next to me. "Are you ok? Is your aunt ok?" There's no messing around tonight - I meet his eyes immediately, and the concern that is swimming in them is just too much for me. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and the wetness as one slides down my cheek. James' own eyes widen at the sight, and the next thing I know he's reaching out, brushing my cheek, wiping away the moisture.
"Hey... Don't cry. It's ok." But I can't help it. I've been so wound up, for so long, and he's being so nice-
"I'm sorry!" "What for?" He's actually smiling at me. "It's ok, Lily, it's ok." Another whimper escapes my lips and I can't help myself; I've leant into him, onto his soft shoulder, and finally, finally I'm letting all the tension go and just crying. It doesn't matter that this morning I couldn't talk to him, or last week I didn't want to like him, or last year I hated him. All that matters is that now I'm sitting her, sobbing my heart out and he's just holding me, being here, being... James.
- - - - - -
I'm opening my eyes again, and for the second time this evening I think I fell asleep. My neck feels stiff and-
Wait a minute. I'm lieing on something soft and this is definitely not a pillow. Wait- it's coming back... James... crying... Oh, I feel terrible.
"Hey you." James, talking in that soft voice which I can't help wanting to hear more of. "Did you sleep ok?" I fell asleep on him? I actually did?
"I'm so sorry, James, I really didn't mean to-" He moved his finger as if to shush me but stopped short.
"Hey." His hand has moved to my shoulder instead, helping me up to an up-right sitting position again. My head is still spinning a little, but I can't decide if that's because I sat up too fast or because I'm just becoming aware of how close James is to me.
"How are you feeling?" How am I feeling?
"I... I don't know." That smile... How can I know anything when faced with that smile? "I'm good, I think." "Good to see you're regaining that razor-sharp brain of yours." That'll earn him a slap on the arm, which in turn just earns me some laughter. "Ah, there's my Lily!"
Did he just call me his Lily?
I think he did, and I think he knows it too, because the smile has faded a little from his face and he's moved his hand from my shoulder.
"James..." My voice is barely a whisper, but the speed with which his eyes meet mine again is as if I'd shouted his name. "Yes?" I'm losing myself in his eyes again, only suddenly I don't seem to mind so much. "I..." I don't know what to say. Maybe I don't have to say anything.
Maybe all I have to do it reach out and touch his soft face like this... Tangle my other hand in his raven-black hair like this...
...and... kiss him...
It's like nothing I've ever felt before. I'm lost, floating in nothingness. All I can feel is him, all I can see is him. Seven years of confusion and a growing fondness have turned into this; this one moment of total heaven, punctuated only by his hands moving to caress my own face and tangle in my own hair. One arm slips around my waist and pulls me nearer, and I can't resist him. For a fleeting moment I wonder whether I'll ever be able to deny James Potter anything ever again, but the moment vanishes as quickly as it came as I realise that I don't want to.
An eternity later we pull apart, resting our foreheads together as we fight for composure. I find his eyes again, and they're so full of love that I can almost feel the pull on my heart.
"I love you, Lily," he says, reaching out to push a stray piece of hair back behind my ears. "My Lilyflower." He smiles, and I smile back.
"I know." His arm is still tight around my waist, and I feel safe. "I love you too, James."
And for the first time in years, I feel sure I about something. I really do.