Chapter 3. Lily Potter.
She was in the middle of the strangest dream she'd ever had. There were no people there – there was nothing there, in fact, save for grey fire. Why gray? The flames seemed alive, tremulous, awaking in her her strange, painful feelings, seeking an outlet. And this fire was not warm – perhaps because it was confined in a glass sphere covered with a patchwork of thin cracks. It seemed that even the slightest pressure would make glass collapse, setting the fire free, lending its convulsions, its painstaking moves the force and vitality it once had. And maybe she would finally get warm…
She didn't know if it was the cutting pain or the cold that woke her up. For several moments she tried to understand why it was so quiet and why she was shaking. Then, she opened her eyes and sat up, looking around her, frightened.
A forest?! The back of her head suddenly shot through with such agonizing pain that she felt nauseated; light faded before her eyes, but the chilled body withstood another attack of the torment. She squeezed her eyes shut and took such a deep breath, that it abruptly made her dizzy.
The air seemed warm, which was strange. Very strange. Not more so, however, than snow that wouldn't melt when she opened her eyes and picked up a handful of silver. Silver snow!
A fainting spell was not far off, but Lily clenched her teeth, denying her body the weakness. She inhaled the fragrance of fir branches, staring fearfully at the silver on her cold palm.
Where is the hospital? Where is Xenia? And her father? Why is she in an enchanted forest? Could it be a very realistic dream? No, not likely – the pain would have roused her long ago. Especially since, judging by the spasms racking her body, this was a forest from her past. And given the pain, this past had to be connected with the surname that seemed to be repeated to her almost every five minutes.
Malfoy.
She inhaled deeply, but it didn't work. The pain grew, threatening to drive her mad. It seemed that something inside her head was popping and crunching. Like glass. She pulled her knees to her chest, only now noticing the blankets carefully wrapped around her. Although the air was warm, the chilly snow made her shiver.
Lily shut her eyes and attempted to focus on something that didn't cause her pain. For instance, on the chill. In a moment, breathing got easier. Still, she couldn't dismiss the thoughts about the two things that have been tormenting her for so long.
Malfoy and the cold. The cold in his strange eyes when he – for the first and only time – appeared at the entrance to her hospital room. She shuddered, trying to ignore the pain that immediately started to throb in her temples.
They all wanted her death: father, brother, Xenia, Theo… They constantly tried to talk about this man, as though she hadn't suffered enough because of him. As though it was her fault that he was so cold.
He'd always been like that! She knew it better than anyone, what with all the years of her being a shadow of her brother and his Slytherin friend. He was insufferable and wicked; he'd played with other people, and now his day of reckoning was at hand. That's what you get for playing with girls' hearts!
And this Helene woman…! Merlin, it was a good thing that Xenia was there; otherwise, Lily would not have survived the encounter. It would have killed her to see the look in Helene's indescribably beautiful eyes, filled with sadness; to hear how sorry Helene was about what happened. Her saying that Malfoy had been erased from her memories, too (a sharp pang of pain which she forcefully suppressed). And Lily could not even admit which had been harder for her to hear: the man being mentioned at all or the allusions to his and Helene's past relationship.
Merlin, it was fierce, excrutiating, almost deadly jealousy, accompanied by spasms all over her body! She didn't recall sharing her life with him, she despised him – and yet, she was so jealous. This was why Xenia wasted no time in putting Lily to sleep – for she became almost hysterical over a feeling that she should not have had at all.
And it was all because of Malfoy! Why?! How could she have married him?! This disgusting, wicked aristocrat, who could only mock and humiliate! Damn him…
"I am already damned."
She started, her eyes flew opened, and she jumped to her feet, feeling the chill of the snow under her feet clad in thin stockings. Malfoy was stood not two paces from the fire, which Lily had not even noticed until now. He was pale, his lower lip slightly swollen, his arms crossed. One of his hands was bandaged with a blood-stained hankerchief.
"A shocker, indeed…" she muttered, trying to cover up another burst of pain, so bad that nasty black spots began to float before her eyes. "What's the meaning of all this? Where did you drag me to?"
He spread his arms wide, inviting her to find the answer to her own question, which made her very angry. The clown! Too bad that whoever'd given him that shiner didn't finish the job!
"Where are we, Malfoy?!"
"In the forest," the man smirked, without moving or trying to approach her. What a pity that she didn't have her wand – she would have wiped this nasty smirk off the face she despised.
"Very funny," she replied, narrowing her eyes angrily. Strange as it was, but anger dulled the pain that pulsed into her body with every beat of her heart. "Take me back to the hospital!"
"Keep in mind, I am not keeping you," he once again crossed his arms over his chest, still not moving from his spot. "You are neither tied nor locked up; you are free to go."
She cast a quick glance around her – only the blanket of snow and fir trees, not even a hint at the direction to be taken toward civilization. Although what civilization, if they are in an enchanted forest?! She can be anywhere! She tried to spy the trail of footprints that would show where they'd come from, but this Slytherin… had clearly erased them.
He watched her with strangely fixed stare. Lily sighed heavily, trying to calm her racing heart: apparently, she knew that his stare looked odd. She couldn't remember what his normal expression was, but she knew it was different. This is maddening!
"I shall freeze to death here, and my father will kill you," the girl promised morosely, with another heavy sigh. She didn't have a choice. Staying alone with him was dangerous and painful, so she just needed to start walking. Eventually, she would find her way out of this place, which made her heart nearly beat out of her chest and take up a life of its own.
What does it mean for her, this silver forest with snow that doesn't melt? And to him?
"When you get cold, just holler," he hemmed, not trying to prevent her first, awkward step into the silver cold. "I am ever at your service…"
"Ferret," she snorted, heading away from Malfoy. She was certain that, as soon as he was out of sight, she would feel better. Alas, it didn't happen. It must be this strange forest with its different scents…
Warm air kept her from getting too cold. Lily wrapped the blanket tighter around her. She was feeling worn out, physically and emotionally. Blood pulsed in her temples, making it hard to think clearly. She felt trapped – like the fire in her dream.
How can she break the glass?
To her surprise, Lily soon came across a strange wall. It looked just like the gray air around her, but posed an invisible barrier between her and the illusion of the fir-trees ahead of her. But then, she must be inside an enclosed space. That means that there has to be an exit…
She walked stubbornly along the wall, grinning – here it is, the glass cage. After about ten minutes, she began to tire; the pain grew, as though fed by the air and the mesmerizing snow. She wanted to sit down, close her eyes, and weep – she felt so alone and miserable. Anger was better! Yet, to feel it, she had to return to Malfoy. There is fire there, she thought hopefully, tentatively turning away from the endless glass wall, holding her captive. She could clearly see the fire in the distance.
He stood exactly where she'd left him, like a marble statue. His morosely-cold eyes studied her face, and she gave him a disdainful look.
"Not too cold yet?" he inquired mockingly, as Lily returned to her spot on the blanket.
"You wish," she retorted, inching closer to the fire opposite from Malfoy. She could hear her own voice sounding weak and inconvincing – the pain was overcoming her. Perhaps, the best thing for her right now was fainting. With any luck, she would come back to when this nightmare was over.
"Are you ready to talk now?"
"What about? You abducting me from the hospital, to finish what your buddy Devereaux had started?" She did not look at Malfoy, yet it seemed to her that he fliched and made as though to take a step toward her. It must be an illusion, cast by pain and the fire reflections off the silver snow.
Snow that was the same color as his hair.
He kept quiet, and she had to look at him. The glassy stare of his icy cold eyes was repulsing her, and she shivered.
"I know of a way to warm up quickly and pleasurably," he smirked, raising one blonde eyebrow.
"I would sooner kiss a toad," the girl snorted, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. The very thought that once she could even conceive of letting him touch her threw her into a panic – as well as the void of pain that was expanding in the back of her head, threatening to overtake her.
The sooner it happens, the better…
"I would be more careful about what I say, if I were you," he grinned, still motionless, although his eyebrows knit together as he studied her face.
"Leave me alone," she asked, looking away from him and glancing around absently.
Aha! She rose sharply, almost darting towards the object she saw in a snowdrift nearby. The blanket fell off her shoulders as she leaned over and picked up a wand. A silver wand.
So familiar…
Dreams of the past washed over her with the avalanche of recovered memories. She remembered the strange man in a cape, who came to her in her dreams, captivating, warning, protecting. And this wand was in his hand, when he shielded her from something…
"LILY!" – came terrifying and frighteningly close shriek, a spell flashed, a girl sank to the ground before an enormous wolf.
Claws, fangs, a leap – and a man in a cape, shielding her, silver wand in his hand.
"You're hurt…"
Waves of pain, fear, relief – old and new feelings – were draining the last of her strength. She slowly turned to the motionless Malfoy.
"Well, this makes everything easier," the latter shrugged, looking at the wand pointed at him. "Kill me and end all this. End your pain and mine."
Lily frowned, using her last ounce of strength to fight off the wave of dizziness and nausea.
"Malfoy, you're hurt," she whispered.
"Death will wipe the slate clean," he hemmed.
"What was that, in the woods?" she stared at Scorpius, and the chap returned her gaze, looking confused – finally, the first glimmer of expression. "It was Amanda, and werewolves. And you… you saved me."
"It was a trap for your father, and you and your brother ran off to save the world. Not for the first time, I might add," Malfoy's voice faltered. "I simply happened to be there."
"You were wounded."
"A mere scratch."
His voice caused a resurgence of recollections – as though heavy drops of fire, scalding water, almost lava seeped through a small crack in the glass.
"Not a bite?" she knew that she'd already said these words once. Of their own accord, her eyes travelled to his wounded hand, but saw the scar on his upper arm. She knew this scar, this healed trace of her rescue.
She. Knew. A scar. On his. Body.
"Flint is such a dolt," Malfoy suddenly laughed. Lily stared at him in confusion.
"What happened later? After you saved me?"
"You came to the hospital wing, at night."
Lily started: the sudden taste of his kiss made her knees buckle. She fell, gripping the silver wand that managed to poke a hole in the glass; to unlock the cage.
The taste of his kiss. A tender touch. A wave of hair. His icy eyes. His silver eyes. Liquid silver. The "I love you" said in a darkened room.
"Lily!" she heard the word as though through a thick layer of cotton. He was next to her. He crouched and put his arms around her body, slacked with pain. He touched her face, and she saw something red on his fingers. She could hardly breathe; something sticky and hot pulsed out of her nose, leaving salty taste on her lips. She wanted to fall asleep, not to feel blood raging in her head, to escape the web of pain and memories.
Something cold touched the bridge of her nose; tender arms embraced her.
"Scor…"
"I am here. I am with you."
Something changed around them; she felt it even as she were passing out.
The feeling of chill was gone. Her arm, resting on the snow, was no longer cold, warmed by the snow of the silver forest.
Their silver forest.