Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.
A/N: I can't say how sorry I am for the long wait. I'll torture myself later, don't worry.
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CHAPTER VI
Noon
Godric's Hollow.
The residence of Mr. and Mrs. Potter
Upstairs, the bedroom
She had been keeping this vigil for days. She could only stare at her previously-assumed-dead husband in awe. He was real, not some renegade Death Eater under the guise of James Potter, nor was he a figment of her imagination. She'd used every spell to prove that it was, in fact, James Potter. She'd felt his body as she struggled to lift him upright when he'd fallen down. He was real.
Lily had levitated James to the bedroom. She herself sat in a wooden chair next to the bed. The windows were wide open; the fresh country breeze swept in every now and then, carrying the scent of flowers from the garden. Golden rays of midday basked the room, illuminating everything. It was as if the weather and nature was helping him to wake up and recover.
James lay still, like a breathing corpse. He was stripped bare, his naked chest rising and falling with every breath he took.
When Lily first got a good look of him, his hair was still untidy, though longer, probably longer than Sirius'. His beard was straggly and messy; he'd gone probably a couple of months without shaving. His nose was broken, his lips cracked with dehydration. On his forehead there had been a deep gash, caked with dry blood. There were no sign of his glasses. His whole body had been covered in various cuts and bruises, some of them very recent. She could only wonder where he had gotten them.
He was clean now, face shaven and hair trimmed. All his bruises and cuts had been tended to and the gash on his forehead a faint scar. His body smelled clean, as if he had taken a shower and was taking a nap.
Lily still sat beside him, waiting for him to wake up.
All the things she'd said to him, all the things she had done, the way she had treated him…she blamed herself. It was her fault he was gone seven months and now lay in their bed, catatonic with all the scars on his face, arms and body.
She longed to run her fingers over them, feel them as if to heal them quicker, to apologize for each one to them. She didn't, however, for the fear of waking him up.
He had been sleeping for three days.
It was the when he woke that frightened her the most. What would he do? How would he act towards her? Was he still sane, after all those months of being who knows where?
Would he still be the James she wanted back?
SSS
Lily was unsure. Fingering the pouch of Floo powder, she stood in her living room for a few more seconds before making her decision.
"Number Twelve, Grimauld Place!"
There was that eerie feeling that her head was not connected to her body, but she shook it off and stared into the empty room of Sirius' house. No one was there.
"Sirius! It's me, Lily!"
The man entered the room, holding a sandwich in hand, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve.
Sirius crouched down and looked at Lily.
"Yes?" he said, his eyes showing boredom and eyes raised in an arrogant way.
"It's James. You should come," said Lily, trying not to reprimand him on his haughty expression.
Immediately, Sirius' eyes glinted and he looked scared and nervous, his face white.
"Move over, I'm coming through."
When Sirius had stepped into her living room, he looked around frantically, trying to spot James. Lily led him upstairs to the bedroom.
Sirius walked over to the bed and dropped to his knees. He held James' hand.
"Oh my God. James…"
Sirius wept and Lily stood back, wondering why she wasn't crying along with him.
SSS
Remus and Peter had come as quickly as they could. Both of them had wept like Sirius. And yet James never woke.
They had wanted to stay over to help her, but it was clear Lily needed no help and James was fine. They stayed for hours: sitting, waiting, wishing that James would wake.
It was clear that James was not going to get up any time soon. One by one, they left reluctantly, always looking back, as if expecting James to jump and laugh at their worries.
Sirius was the last to leave, with a sigh and clenched fist. He was frustrated; she knew that he was so helpless, unable to wake his closest friend. His brother…
Lily put a hand on his shoulder and whispered softly, "Go home; you need sleep."
"What was he like, when he showed up on your door? Was he still James?" his eyes penetrated hers, looking for the answer, demanding truth.
"I don't know, Sirius," Lily answered, trying to keep the frustration back. "The first thing he did was collapse. I have no clue to what's wrong with him."
Sirius stood and looked at James. "You're not going to tell anyone else, are you," Sirius said, a statement rather than a question.
"I'd rather not be bombarded with unnecessary Healers and such," said Lily, avoiding the answer Sirius was looking for.
With a nod, Sirius was gone.
SSS
Another day: no change.
The Marauders had come again, surrounding James' bed; they were silent for most of their visit, unable to communicate, just hoping their friend would wake soon. Lily could never stay in the room with them. They always carried that sense of helplessness and despair, their faces dark or worried. The atmosphere in the room would always be heavy with patience and expectation. For Lily, it was like suffocating on unspoken thoughts.
Again, they left, saying few words, heads bent and cloaks wrapped tightly.
Lily said farewell, and sat beside James for a few minutes, silently imploring to him to wake.
This is the calm before the storm, thought Lily, when James wakes…it's obvious something's bound to go wrong…
Would he be angry at her, for driving him away to his almost-death? He had every reason to, thought Lily, and she would gladly take the blame.
Unable to bear the emotions any longer, she went downstairs.
SSS
The clock struck midnight.
Listen:
The sounds are scarce in the house: the only sounds come from the kitchen where the woman is cleaning. The living room is quiet and dark, the lamps snuffed and windows closed. The woman doesn't make a sound as her frowned face keeps scrubbing the table, lost in thought. Only a couple of lamps are lit in the kitchen; the woman does not need light: she needs silence.
All the other rooms are dark, quiet. They sleep as deeply as the man in the bedroom does, dreaming dreams only the way they can.
Listen:
In the bedroom, there is a rustle of bed sheets. The man moves his head slightly and…
His eyes open.
Hazel and confused, they stare out in the pitch darkness. The man starts. Is he blind? His arms flail wildly, coming into contact with something hard and painful. He cries out.
The woman downstairs perks up, her ears drawn to the sounds. Her face is calm but her heart beats like war drums on the brink of a battle. She draws the wand from her robe, silent.
Listen:
The man is breathing heavily, standing up, unbalanced and disoriented. His head buzzes and his eyes swim. He nearly falls, but grasps the bed before he does. He looks around. On the bedside table…
There!
His arms find their way to the table and grab the piece of metal with two glass circles. He puts them on slowly, like remembering something old and dear.
Listen:
Her footsteps barely make a sound as her bare feet make their way to the staircase.
His legs move, one forward, then the other. He walks like a baby, staggering, soon gaining balance and ease.
He reaches the top of the stairs.
She looks up.
His eyes meet hers.
Listen:
You can hear the flood of recollection crashing and thrashing in the man's mind.
You can hear the buzz of unspoken words on her lips.
She is the first to utter a sound.
"James?"
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James sipped the steaming coffee, relishing it as it went down his throat, warming his body.
Seven months.
Good God, was it true? Seven months of wandering, lost and dazed country side after country side after country side? And then the desert…
He shook his head. He was home now. The food had done him well, delicious as it ever was. Lily had always been a good cook.
He stole a glance. She was looking out the window, her profile much the same, if less austere than it was before. She hadn't changed much, though there was a sense of uneasiness about her.
He didn't want to ask if she missed him. That would be stupid, rash and overemotional. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out the answer to that question either.
There wasn't much light in the kitchen; Lily hadn't bothered to light the lamps and James wasn't too keen on the prospect of bright, white light. The lonely gloom was perfect for both of them.
The silence between them wasn't awkward or uneasy. It was almost comfortable, almost perfect.
"Don't expect me back."
James shifted uneasily in his seat. What was he doing here, anyways? Lily certainly didn't want him around. He stole another look at her. Her folded arms, the biting of her lips, the calm way she held her body…it was quite obvious he was not welcome.
Home and Lily were the only thoughts that ran through his mind as he had dazedly Apparated throughout the world and trudged through jungles and forests. Home: the place where he could crawl into bed and forget everything. Lily—no, the words Lily had said (or was it Lily? He wasn't sure) before he'd told her he was off to war. She wanted to make things right and he hadn't paid attention.
James bowed his head and gulped the remainder of the coffee down, desperately longing for a swig of firewhiskey.
Guilty, guilty, guilty…he'd heard the words and tossed them aside. No wonder Lily had raged at him…I was such an asshole.
He wanted to apologize to her, but the words were glued to his throat and refused to come out. Was it pride? Or fear that she would reject him and send him running out of the house? Once upon it time it would have been former, but now…he knew he didn't deserve retribution, but he was afraid nonetheless.
Slowly, he got up wrapping the cloak Lily had given him tighter to himself. Lily turned to face him.
"Well, I'll just be…er, going then…"
"What?"
"Um, don't worry, I think all my stuff's packed away in the closet…"
"What are you talking about?"
James felt his face warm up with embarrassment and humiliation. This was it. He was the one who deserved to lose in this very strange game of marriage. So he was going to do it with grace and get it over as quickly as possible.
"James, what are you talking about?" Her face looked worried.
"Well…leaving…"
Her emerald eyes grew wide.
"No!" she said quickly. Then, in a more hesitant voice, she asked, "Why?"
James paused. Why? Was she really asking him that? Why was she being hesitant?
His face flushed again. "Er, well…I…you…"
Then the awkward silence came. Lily bit her lip and sighed, slipping into the chair in front of James. "James, sit down," she said quietly, sounding tired beyond reason.
He sat down, anxious. What was happening? Ah, the marriage contract. Of course. It was the only reason they'd stayed together; what other reason would Lily try to stop him from leaving?
"Look, about the contract: we can probably forget it. Our dead fathers won't come after us or anything," said James, relieved, back into familiar territory.
Lily looked up, confused. Comprehension dawned and she shook her head, her eyes not meeting his. "It's not about that."
Confusion again. James asked, "What then?"
Lily put her head down on the table, arms folded around her head. It looked as though she was crying, but not significantly so. James was lost. He moved closer to her, cautiously, still not knowing what the hell was happening.
A muffled statement emitted from the slouching figure. James asked her to repeat it.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
There was a pause.
"Lots of things."
She lifted her head and looked at him. She hadn't been crying, but her face was dismal all the same. She was expecting a response.
James slid into a chair next to her. "Really?"
She nodded wordlessly, still hesitant.
James looked down at the table, amazed yet his heart pulled at him, nonetheless.
"You don't have to apologize, Lily. It's my fault. I should have been a better person, not just a better husband, to you. I should have made an effort—" he began, but was cut off sharply by Lily.
"No, James, don't say that," her voice was stronger now and she looked at him fiercely, "Remember on our honeymoon? You were so nice, and you gave a necklace, something I didn't deserve after all that—"
"But Lily! What about the day I left? You tried to make things right and not only did I ignore them, but I chose that time to say I was off to war and I—"
He paused, realizing they were arguing. He sighed. "Let's not fight, Lily. I'm done with fighting."
"Our prides always got the best of us," murmured Lily.
Then: "Can you stay, James?"
She looked at him with her piercing emerald eyes, saying those simple words but meaning so much more, communicating the way people who have known each other for years can.
He stared back at her with his hazel eyes, understanding. He would've smiled, but that would have been out of place.
"Yeah, I think I will."
She awkwardly placed her head on his shoulders, but when James pulled her closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. They held each other tight.
In another room, the clock quietly chimed one o'clock.
SSS
Is there more, is there more, is there more? I dunno. Possibly. Depends.
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