It was 4:53 PM, and for four long hours, Lily had stared at the wall. It was a very boring wall, as far as walls went; white and with the strange sheen of too many applications of a scouring charm. It was dusty too, a strange off-white colour. Not quite eggshell, it had a little more contrast, but still undeniably white. Hospital white.
Lily had been in a hospital a grand total of three times prior to this unintentional detour to London. Once, when she was a child, she had fallen down the stairs and broken three toes on her left foot. Her dad had carried her and held her tight while she cried into his shoulder, more scared than hurt. It seemed so silly now, she was seven years old, too big to be foolish around the staircase, but there it was. She must've been distracted, maybe she had missed a step or tripped over the cat. The next thing she knew, she was in hospital, sitting on a bed with a paper sheet beneath her while the Doctor set her toes back to the correct alignment. Her dad had told her later that he warned the Doctor to tell her what she was doing and when she would do it. Lily wasn't one for surprises, and even at seven years old, she liked to be informed of what was going on, especially if she had no control over what was happening. She remembered looking down at her hands, her mum had painted her nails for a neighbours birthday party and the blue paint had begun to chip. The Doctor had done something unexpectedly, and Lily kicked (quite unintentionally, or so her dad said later) that Doctor in the nose and her dad had laughed and laughed. Served her right, he said. You told her to tell you what she was doing.
The second was at Hogwarts. Third year. James and Sirius had charmed the fourth floor staircase to turn into a slide, and she had hit her head rather badly on the bannister. James had told her later that they had intended to trick Snape, but hadn't seen her until it was already too late. She didn't hate James Potter in third year, he was annoying but not towards her. He was sweet, and could've been a good friend had he not been best mates with Sirius Black; who had taunted her in the hallways for being a know it all four months prior. James apologized to her, late at night in the Hospital Wing, and told her that he didn't mean to. That he hoped that she'd be alright. He left her a vase of wildflowers before he left, and she later pressed them between her copy of Numerology and Grammatica so her roommates wouldn't find it.
The last was a few years ago, that time James had gotten cursed by a Death Eater during a mission for the Order. He was hit by a blinding purple light, cast from behind them and James had just happened to turn when it hit. The curse had left strange bruising on his side and stomach, oozing purple and green bruises as she and Sirius clawed at his clothes for any sign of damage. He suddenly dropped, and then shook violently, as if possessed. From behind their Death Eater mask, the man who had cursed James was laughing, and before he could curse another one of them, Sirius Apparated the three of them to St. Mungo's. They had been in the spell damage ward that time, four doors down from where James was presently. It had been muggy, that day. A bit damp too, left over from an overnight thunderstorm. James had been lying pale and unconscious and Lily had never felt smaller. Never weaker, never more incapable of aid or unable to help. It was up to him now, the healers had said. They had already done all they could, but only so much could be done for a spell they had no knowledge of. It could've been anything, but nothing could be quite as worse as this painful unknowing.
Sirius had held her hand that day, and Remus the other. Peter lingered in the background, one hand on her shoulder, the other in James Potter's back pocket, looking from consolidation, for affirmation, for the quiet nod in the midst of all this tragedy that he was doing the right thing by locking himself away. For hours they stood there, and when Lily could stand it no longer, she slid into bed beside her husband and breathed in his scent. Her Amortentia, espresso and broomstick polish and freshly cut grass. inhale, exhale, she breathed him in with the thought of preserving that man forever, as if by will alone she could sustain him. She was nineteen years old and a newlywed; scared out of her wits, but his gentle breaths rocked her to sleep and when he held her it felt like nothing could ever be wrong. This was right, she thought as she floated into sleep; this was the way it should be.
Five hours and forty-two minutes later, at 3:19 AM, James Potter woke up, and Lily breathed a sigh of relief. He had pulled through, and the potions the healers had administered seemed to have kicked in. His colour was good, his breathing was excellent and best of all he was no longer in life-threatening danger.
He would be okay.
But this was different. Different curse, different reason for jumping in front of a curse for the people he loved, and instead of being by his side, they were so far apart that it tore at her very being. James was being kept from her, she confused him, halted any progress the healers may have made with his memory. Her being someone from his future was complicated, he was missing years of his memory, and she had been told that he had been calling for his parents in his sleep, who were also missing.
Remus and Sirius visited, and on Thursday Peter even stopped by to offer his condolences (and famous chocolate butter squares, which were gone in fifteen minutes flat). Sirius brought her some comforts from home, Little Women, of course, but also Wuthering Heights and Mansfield Park, along with toiletries and clothes. Between visits she read, drank tea and took the potions Catherine had laid out for her. She found a new tin of cream of Earl Grey on her bedside table one morning, and made her mind up to invite that healer, Melody to tea.
Her wand was on the bedside table, chipped and familiar. She'd bought it with her parents in Diagon Alley when she was eleven. It was the first wand she picked up, it had chosen her. For seven years it had served her faithfully, always doing what she needed it to, learning alongside her how to preform magic, how to protect herself and others. For seven years, the thin piece of willow had been by her side, and every day since then magic had been in her thoughts. Who was she without it? But for the first time, her magic scared her.
It looked so innocent, she thought, just lying there, like it was harmless. But that wand could hurt, that piece of wood was more than a tool, it was a weapon.
It's funny, she thought. That it wasn't until after the accident that she realized how dangerous her life had become. She wasn't in hiding any longer, and the visibility prickled her skin and turned her nerves on edge. She could be seen, and her visibility was what had turned her disillusioned life into a nightmare. She wanted to escape, to be alone, they meant well but she couldn't handle it any longer. She needed James, they were in abominable danger, and she wouldn't rely on the pity of her healers for her safety. She was woman, and Lily Potter was strong dammit, no matter what anybody else said. She could beat it, push past her fear; break free. She had done it all before and could do it all again, she knew she could. Lily could handle abhorrent circumstance when happening to herself, she could take the pain and the frustration of her own body, but once bad news was bestowed unto a loved one, she was putty. When it happened to them, her pain tolerance dissolved. She could take the morning sickness, the sore back, the nightmares and the loneliness but the moment a loved one was in danger she'd do anything to make it better.
She was afraid of herself, afraid of what she could do. Suddenly she was eleven again and afraid of what this Professor McGonagall told her she was. Wasn't plain Lily Evans enough? Couldn't she be normal, just this once? The look in her sisters eyes that day would haunt her to her dying day; that was the moment she lost her. Because of magic, she no longer had a sister who loved her.
She had known that her magic could be unstable, but she had no idea that she could do the damage she had done.
Her magic had saved their lives, but not fast enough. Not fast enough to save James.
Her time alone was damaging, the more she slept and dreamed, the more she shook with nightmares about that terrible day. The Death Eaters surrounding them, the flash of light, the blood pumping through her veins as she waited in the attic haunted her. James falling, James bleeding, James dying; her husband lying unconscious and without five years of his memories. There was nothing she could do, only good fortune could help him now.
Lily didn't believe in luck, no one had ever gone out their way to call Lily Potter superstitious and perhaps never would. She didn't place stock in magic eight balls or Divination, the universe was indifferent to the superfluousness of chance, and was rarely lazy enough to do the same thing twice.
Still, Lily waited.
For hours, she stared at the door waiting for someone (anyone, really) to come in. The silence of the ward was deafening, but she couldn't shake the sensation that she was being watched. Not by the healers, but by someone else, someone who didn't belong and wouldn't remain anonymous for long.
Lupin didn't take to her fits of hysteria, saying she really just needed to rest.
"Give yourself a break, Lily," Remus said soothingly, "Take a nice bath, tell Pads to paint your toes."
Sirius sighed. "I'm not a nail technician, you know. I think you people forget that."
"She's pregnant and sad, Sirius. Paint her nails."
Sirius looked down at his own nails as if wondering why someone hadn't done his own recently. "Mauve or green?"
Lily sat up with a groan and swung her legs over the edge of her hospital bed, bracing her hands on either side of her hips.
"You did mauve last time. Let's try green."
Sirius smiled quietly and pulled the pedicure equipment, transfiguring Remus' chair into a stool and one of her pillows into a foot bath. For the next hour and a half, they sat and laughed about the good old times at Hogwarts, baby names and everything in-between. For a moment Lily could almost forget reality in exchange for this bubble of laughter and relaxation, as if nothing existed behind those doors and they were alone.
"Don't splash me!" Sirius exclaimed, shaking water out of his hair, when Lily's leg shook silently. "Splash him! He's the bully here. Got away with it for seven years at Hogwarts, but not anymore. May it be known that the the one who flooded the charms corridor with pink foam for Valentines Day in sixth year was Remus Lupin, the little shit who let me get detention for it!"
"That was you?" Lily said, laughing.
Remus nodded pensively. "And the time after fifth year when Snape said, well, y'know, it was me who jinxed his book bag to run away from him for the rest of the school year."
Lily shook her head. "I can't believe it, all this time I thought it was James and Sirius causing the chaos, but it was you all along!"
"The gentle werewolf persona does me benefit," Remus said good-naturedly . "I get away with a lot more than people are willing to admit."
An hour later, the pair rose and hugged her tightly, and she waved them goodbye.
Until next time, she thought, and laid back into her pillows with Wuthering Heights.
...
Sirius was a great source of comfort to James, as were the other Marauders. They were familiar, they were always there for him, and no one could sift through the bullshit of half-truths like James Potter. He knew that they were keeping things from him, his best friends, and he was furious, everyone could tell. They had told him how many years he had forgotten, what had changed, but what was still the same too.
It took less than four hours for James to ask after Lily, and after a deal was brokered between herself and her healers, it was decided that she would visit for an hour three times a week to calm his nerves.
The morning leading up to their first visit felt like waiting for a hearing, her palms were sweaty and her nerves fried, and she felt as if she was meeting the prime minister of a far off country rather than her own husband.
Sirius had brought her favourite tartan nightie, it smelled so familiar, the soft flannel brought back memories of those nights spent with James in their cottage on the North sea, and she clung to it like a lifeline. They'd return, the two of them, this wasn't the end.
She refused to accept defeat, they could fix this, she could have her husband back again.
She twirled her wand between her fingertips. She was pretty handy with beauty charms, having magically straightened her roommate Mary's hair from its unmanageable curls into some sort of order, oh years and years ago. She transfigured a healers chart into a mirror and looked herself in the eyes, and was unhappy with what she saw.
The woman in front of her was tired, with deep bags beneath her eyes and a spot of acne on her forehead, clutching her nightie in her fists like a vice. This wouldn't do, James wouldn't want her to give up on herself either.
Mary had told her once that after a good cry is putting on completely new clothes, so she did so. After stepping out of her nightgown, she draped it carefully over her footboard and chose a nice pair of Muggle jeans and a comfortable jumper, familiar and soft but new. She brushed her hair and tucked it behind her ears, putting her wand in her back pocket. That's better she thought.
Lily stole a glance at the clock, two minutes until she was expected. She stood up straight, pushed her shoulders back and opened the door.