Chapter Seven - Encouraged
James had been in St. Mungo's for five days and was more than ready to go home. The Healers had declared him fit: the blow to his head had left no side effects other than a headache that subsided more each day, and the fact that he still didn't remember everything about the attack. At night he seemed to relive it in his dreams, but when he awoke, it was as hazy as ever.
Something niggled at the back of his mind, though. Something about Lily, something she had said or done. He felt like it was important, something he needed to remember because it must mean something, yet he could not pin it down. It was frustrating, and more than anything he wanted to retreat and recover and try to stop thinking about it. He wanted everything to go back to normal, to before she had walked back into his life.
He left first thing Sunday morning. His father insisted he stay the night in his old room at the house, and so he spent the day with his father. Harrington Potter had managed to catch up on his own rest now that he knew his son was recovering and looked remarkably better than he had when James had first woken up. James was glad, because it had been yet another thing weighing on his conscience, that he had had been the cause of such worry for his father.
They talked and played chess and listened to the wizarding wireless. James slept most of the afternoon and woke to find that his father had cooked his favorite meal for dinner. After dinner they sat in front of the fire, James staring into the flames, his father reading the latest book in a popular series about a wizarding detective who worked in the Muggle world.
As he always had, Harrington turned in early, leaving James alone in the sitting room. Yet he wasn't tired, not after the long nap he'd had. He glanced outside and saw that it was snowing again; grabbing a warm cloak, he quietly let himself onto the back porch, thinking it would be nice to get some fresh air while enjoying the peaceful night.
He stood at the railing, gazing out at the small woods behind the house and the pond where he had gone swimming as a boy. There were tracks in the new snow, and he let his eyes follow them until he saw the faint outline of a deer at the edge of the trees, and his heart clenched in his chest.
He had missed the full moon the previous week, but Peter had stayed with Remus, making sure he was safe during the night and cared for when he returned to his human form the following morning. Yet staring out at the woods, with the waning moon just barely glowing through the clouds, James suddenly wondered: could he still transform? The Healers at St. Mungo's had said everything about him was fine, unaffected by his injury. Yet they did not know he was a secret Animagus. What if he had lost that, somehow?
It was such a part of him that he wasn't sure what he would do if he could no longer transform into a stag. He did not do it nearly as often as they had in school, when even though the moon wasn't full, sometimes he and Sirius would transform and run together across the grounds, into the forest, even through Hogsmeade. In fact, it had been almost three months since he had last transformed. Yet it was something he did not wish to lose: the stag was as much a part of him as his messy hair and glasses now.
James considered waiting until Sirius or Remus were around to help him should anything go wrong, but he did not want to wait. He needed to be absolutely sure he could still do it. It occurred to him that if his injury had left any unseen repercussions behind, the transformation could go horribly wrong. At that moment, though, he didn't really care. He had been doing absolutely nothing for over five days and was feeling slightly reckless, if he admitted it. What could go wrong, really? They'd mastered the spell as fifth-years, after all, and had survived many failed attempts before that.
Stepping out onto the snow-covered grass, James glanced around to be sure no one might see him, particularly his father. Harrington would certainly make him register, and for some reason, James had come to hold dear the secret he shared with only his three closest friends. It was their bond, something only they knew about him. He did not want to share it with anyone else, and he certainly did not want the entire wizarding world to know.
The snow was still falling and a chill breeze whipped his cloak around his ankles. Closing his eyes, James concentrated on that odd thought, the idea that he could become a stag simply by willing it. And as he concentrated, he felt his body shifting form, his thoughts growing more instinctive. Wizards kept their own minds in Animagus form, yet the animal's instincts were still there, woven into the very nature of the beast. As he stomped a hard hoof in the snow, he felt the need to run, and bounded off into the trees.
He ran and ran, knowing he would likely pay for it in the morning, but relishing the opportunity to run off all the worry and anxiety and guilt. The cold air blowing across his pelt and the snow against his hooves was positively exhilarating after being cooped up inside by the fire all day.
He did not see the deer he had spotted from the porch, but leapt over a rabbit's burrow and past a large possum slowly lumbering through the woods. An owl hooted at him from a nearby tree and seemed to follow him as he ran. He stopped in a small glade to joyfully kick up the snow, then decided to head down to the pond for a drink. It was frozen, but a quick kick with his front foreleg set a crack in the ice that let his sip at the water flowing out. His human mind rebelled at the thought of drinking dirty pond water, but his animal mind was too thirsty to resist.
Glancing up at the house, James saw someone standing on the porch steps, gazing around the grounds. His father? What was he doing out this late, in the cold snow? Even though there was no way he could possibly know his son was the deer--there had always been deer in the forest, after all--James quickly bounded back into the woods, then circled around and poked his head out to see if he was still there, still sitting.
Only he saw clearly now that it wasn't his father, it was Lily--and she was staring right at him.
He almost ran off the other direction, such a mindless panic gripped him. What was she doing there, so late at night? Was she waiting for him? Why? How much had she seen?
Stepping into the shadows of a tree, James transformed back into his human self, straightening his cloak and running a hand through his hair, sure there were leaves stuck in it (there weren't.) As he took several calming breaths, his father's enigmatic words at the hospital came back to him: It's not what you think. Don't get all worked up.
The run in the woods had settled his mind considerably. Since he had no idea why Lily was there, he was going to go to her without any assumptions for once. He would not get his hopes up, that she was there for any reason but to check on his health, yet he wouldn't think the worst either, that she was there to answer his last question to her with one final, damning rejection. For now, it was a chance for him to finally see her and thank her for saving his life that night. He owed her that; she owed him nothing after what he had done.
She turned toward him in surprise when she saw him step out of the trees, but as James walked closer, he saw that she was smiling. It made him feel slightly more at ease, the open look on her face, and the fact that she took several steps toward him and threw her arms around his neck before he reached the porch. She was warm, as if she had not been outside for long.
"I'm so glad you're home, and you're all right," she said as she stepped back. Her cheeks were slightly pink, but he wasn't sure if it was the night air or if she were blushing.
"Thanks," he replied, and he smiled back because although he was skeptical and even though he knew he shouldn't think those things about her, her smile warmed his heart. He thought he would still feel resentful that she had not come to visit him earlier, but he found that at that moment, he didn't . He just wanted to talk to her, thank her, apologise…and move on.
"Did you get my message?" she asked.
"No," he replied, slightly confused. "When did you send it?"
"I sent an owl on my dinner break," she replied, frowning. "I knew you were at your father's house so I'm sure I sent him here and not to the flat…" She trailed off as a small snowy white owl landed on his shoulder with a note attached to its leg. They both laughed.
"How odd," she murmured. "I told him to take it to you at your father's house. He should have been here already."
"And he tried, only I've been out for a…walk," James replied. He handed her the owl, and she clucked a few words at it and sent it on its way. "So I guess you can deliver your message in person."
"The message was that I wanted to come by and visit," she laughed. "Only when I didn't hear from you, I decided to come anyway and make sure you were all right." She paused and studied his face. "Are you? You look cold. I'm not sure why you're out in the snow in your condition…" She trailed off again as he shook his head.
"I'm fine," he replied. "Really. I slept all afternoon and just needed some fresh air." He gave her a questioning look. "The bigger question is what are you doing here so late?"
She shrugged. "It's not that late. And I would have come earlier, only I just missed you at St. Mungo's this morning and I had to work all day. I got off my shift a little while ago." She looked suddenly apprehensive. "I hope that's all right. I mean, if you need to rest some more, I can leave."
"No," he said firmly, taking her by the arm and guiding her back toward the house. "It's great. I'm glad you came."
"Really?" she asked, and he felt her body relax as she linked her arm with his; he glanced down, slightly surprised, but she did not seem to notice his reaction. "I was sure you would be angry at me because I hadn't been able to see you yet."
He had been angry. However irrational, it had bothered him. He had almost convinced himself that she was avoiding him, that she never wanted to see him again. Yet here she was, and he couldn't be mad at her, not anymore. So he said so.
"I was," he admitted. "But I know you did, only I was asleep every time."
She gave him a sly sideways grin. "Yes, I did, sleepyhead. Good, I'm glad someone told you I hadn't just abandoned you."
"Like last time," he murmured, unable to resist. She sighed, and he immediately felt bad for even mentioning it.
"No, not like last time. Although, you weren't around for quite so long in December." They reached the stairs and went up onto to the porch. "But can we talk about that some other time, James?"
He nodded, regretting his choice of words. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up. But what brings you by tonight? Is everything all right? Frank said you knew to be careful…"
Now it was his turn to trail off as she rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I know, and I am," she replied. "I just wanted to see you."
He leaned closer, her words giving him the smallest bit of confidence. "Would you like to come in, then? I'll make us some hot chocolate."
Her face melted into a happy smile, and he felt his heart skip a beat that such a simple question could do that to her. "I would love to. Thank you, James."
They went inside, stomping off the snow from their cloaks and shoes. James set about gathering what he needed while Lily sat down at the kitchen table, rubbing her hands together to get warm. "Thank you for coming by," he said as he began to heat up some milk and take out the chocolate. "I've really wanted to talk to you."
He sensed her tense, but decided he wasn't going to say anything about the kiss--nothing to make her uncomfortable, even if a part of him still wanted an answer to the question he had asked her before being hit. "I don't remember much about what happened, but I know you saved my life. Thank you."
She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "You're welcome. I told you I would protect you."
He snorted, somehow in spite of himself refusing to let it wound his pride. She was strong and he knew it: it was why he loved her so much. He was lucky to know her, to call her a friend, to have someone like her by his side when he had been hit. So he put aside any other feelings and nodded, clinging hard to his sense of honor instead.
"Yes, you did say that. I remember." He turned and handed her a mug of warm chocolate milk, then sat down across from her. "I wish I could remember how you did it."
Not it was her turn to shrug, and he was fairly certain he saw the faint blush of embarrassment on her cheeks this time. "A few Shield Charms, a Body Bind curse--no big deal. I was just glad to hold them off until Remus arrived with Frank and Alice."
"You sent a Patronus message?" he asked, even though Remus had told him that at some point. He hadn't said anything else about it, only that he had still been at Headquarters with Frank and Alice when it arrived.
"Yes," she replied, wrapping her hands around the mug and taking a sip. "You really don't remember?" When he shook his head, she continued. "You made a funny comment when you saw it."
"I was half-conscious," he laughed. "What did I say?"
"You said I was in trouble," she replied, looking him directly in the eye. He sensed she was challenging him, or maybe…flirting?
"And why did I say that?" James asked, curiously leaning closer. She leaned closer as well, and he almost felt like they were back in school, playing the game they had played for so many years before finally admitting their real feelings for one another.
"It was corporeal," she said very quietly. He nodded and leaned back, not wanting to be tempted to kiss her again.
"Good for you," he replied with a genuine smile, even though that niggling feeling from earlier in the evening was back. He had missed something, he knew.
"But you don't remember what it was?" she asked, sounding both amused and disappointed.
"I don't," he said. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember much of anything after I got hit."
For a moment it looked like she was going to tell him, but then she shook her head and smiled. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their hot chocolate, and James was once again surprised at how comfortable it was to simply sit with her, regardless of how she felt about him. He didn't want to ruin anything, but he decided he still needed to apologize. He cleared his throat, and she looked up, green eyes meeting his expectantly
"Look, Lily…I'm sorry." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand and stopped her. "No, let me. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you that night, that I went down so quick and so hard and you had to do everything yourself. I wish more than anything I'd been able to fight back, to help you--"
"I'm fine," she interjected, but he kept going.
"And I'm sorry I kissed you, because I think that's why--"
She leaned across the table and put a finger to his lips; he vaguely remembered her kicking him that night, when he had tried to apologize because he had thought, for a fleeting moment, that they might not make it. Feeling her gentle touch against his face was much better. He tried not to shiver.
"Don't apologize, James," she said. "For any of it. I don't regret anything."
"You don't?" he asked, completely skeptical. "Even the--"
"Even that," she replied firmly, and her hand left his face to curl around his fingers on the table. "There's a lot to talk about, James," she said, her voice quiet and her eyes downcast for a moment. When she lifted them and gazed into his face once more, they were blazing. "But I'd like to talk about it…about us."
"Us?" he parroted, sounding rather stupid to even his own ears.
She let go of his hand and sat back. "It's late. How about dinner tomorrow? You did miss Valentine's Day, you know."
He groaned, ignoring the remark about Valentine's Day, because what did it mean to her, to them, anyway? "Lily, you can't say something like that and expect me to wait that long."
"It's not what you think," she murmured as she stood, and now he was sure he saw a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Don't get all worked up."
"That's what my dad said," he replied, standing with her. She began to pull on her boots, her cloak, and her scarf. "But he also said I should give you some time, some space. I didn't expect you to ask me to dinner."
She frowned as she paused. "Time for what?"
"To think things through. What, he didn't say. He just said the same thing--that it wasn't what I thought."
"Hmm." She pulled on her gloves. "I have thought things through quite a bit over the last few days. You're father is a wise man, James. You should listen to him. And you should rest."
He rolled his eyes, trying not to feel patronized yet again. "Right. So where would you like to have dinner tomorrow for this talking that is supposed to take place?"
"I know a nice Italian restaurant," she said, and she smiled, though he could tell she was slightly nervous he might turn her down now.
"Even after what happened at Orsino's?" he asked, both curiously and with a skeptical edge to his tone. Again, it was not what he would have expected.
"That's exactly why," she said. "Although it's a Muggle restaurant with no connection to magic at all." She paused and looked down as if slightly embarrassed. "I really enjoyed eating at Orsino's. I'd like to go back when he's got it up and running again."
He tried not to add a 'with you' at the end of her sentence, but he couldn't help it. Just as quickly, he pushed it out of his mind: just because she wanted to go back, didn't mean she wanted to go back with him. He should just be glad she wanted to go out at all the following night and not start thinking of the future already.
"That sounds great," he replied. "Although…do you think it's safe? I mean, they've targeted us once…" He trailed off as the implication of his unfinished sentence hit him: it had been him and Lily who had essentially stopped the attack at Orsino's from turning out any worse than it had. It had been him and Lily who had then been attacked the next day because of it. If they were to go out, would it happen again?
The thought of continuously looking over his shoulder, afraid to go out, hit him hard. He had jokingly said something to Sirius about never leaving the house, and it occurred to him that it might just be reality one day. A rush of sadness--almost despair--surged through his body, leaving him dizzy; he sat down heavily in his chair, feeling oddly light-headed. Maybe it was his injury, maybe it was his run. Either way, Lily hurried over, looking upset. She knelt down in front of him.
"James?" she asked, and he blinked to focus on her. "Are you all right?"
"Just tired," he said, and it was true: the night was catching up with him, as well as the thought that the consequences from the previous week's events would linger far longer than he had anticipated. "And a little unsettled about having to watch my back everywhere I go now."
She nodded and took his hand. "I know. I am too. But Dumbledore said we can't avoid going out because of it. He said we need to live our lives just as we normally would, with simply an eye for detail, as he put it."
James snorted and sat up straighter. "I bet he did. That sounds exactly like something he would say." He stopped and raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you actually ask him if we could go out together?"
Lily nodded unapologetically. "I did. I had the same thought you did, about being attacked again. But then I talked to Dumbledore, and your father, and decided it was worth the risk."
"The risk?" James asked. "What's worth the risk?"
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, just enough to make his eyes go wide before she stood once more, smiling down at him. "Being with you."
"Lily, I--"
"Get some rest, James," she said, turning and heading toward the door. He forced himself to follow, but stopped himself from reaching out to grab her hand and demand an explanation. He couldn't have processed it anyway: his head was swimming and his legs felt like lead.
She stopped at the door and smiled at him once more. "I'm glad you're doing better. I'll see you tomorrow at the Leaky Cauldron."
He just nodded as she stepped out onto the porch and down into the snow. Then she turned and gave him the same sly grin she had flashed him once or twice already. "You really don't remember anything that happened that night?" she asked.
"Just vague thoughts and feelings," he replied, stepping out onto the porch. "I feel like I'm forgetting something important, something that really meant something."
"Hm," she replied. "Maybe you are." She raised her wand and cast a spell. A cloud of silver shot from the tip and began to coalesce into a shape. He watched in fascination as that shape took a very familiar form…a deer…
A silver doe.
"Good night, James," she called as she stepped around and Apparated home with a tiny pop. He stared at the doe, at the spot where she had just stood, then back at the doe. The silver Patronus began to dissolve.
Shaking his head, he turned back inside, his heart fluttering, his hands almost shaking as he locked the door behind him.
"Oh Potter, you're in trouble now," he murmured to himself, then laughed softly. Because he was: any attempt to forget about her and to move on was now completely and utterly lost in the shimmering glow of her Patronus. It must mean something, and his addled brain could only imagine one thing now.
Maybe there was hope after all.
* * *
Honestly by Gmariam
Chapter Endnotes: This story should conclude in the next chapter. They eat dinner, elope, and run off to Italy, where they manage to avoid the prophecy, the war, and the Dark Lord and live happily ever after.
This would then render the books as we know them null and void, however, so it doesn't quite end that way. Thanks for reading anyway! :)