Chapter 13

The Five Word Lullaby

"God, yes," Lily moaned into the pillow. "Harder. Harder. Don't stop."

"Should I give you two the room, or…" Bex trailed off, a brow rising over the top of her book.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm just really tense, okay?"

Mary's hands dug into her friend's shoulders once again, massaging the sore muscles. Lily bit back another groan, and her masseuse giggled. Apparently the groan hadn't been bit back hard enough.

"You know, sex is a great stress reliever, Lils. A couple mind-blowing minutes with the right guy can do wonders."

"The right guy, huh? That's a tall order, Mare."

"Fine. A right guy. There can be more than one right answer."

"Not sure what kind of exams you've been taking," Lily grumbled, sitting up and swiping the baby hairs from her forehead.

"C'mon, Lils. It's been three months. James really has moved on, and maybe you ought to, too."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

Mary pursed her lips. "You were picturing him giving you that massage, weren't you?"

"Actually, I wasn't," she snapped. "I happen to have better things to think about. Summer internships at the Ministry, everything going on this Friday—"

"—and by that you mean seeing James Potter in his Quidditch robes—"

"—no, by that I mean my Charms and Potions exams—"

"—and a tipsy James Potter still in his Quidditch robes during the victory party—"

"Mary," Bex interjected in warning.

The blonde shrugged unabashedly. "The first step is admitting you have a problem."

"I don't and I won't. Did I develop feelings for James in January? Yes. Do I still have feelings for him now? No. I had my chance, he could have had a chance, timing never worked, we've both moved on. Like the mature adults we are."

Lily had turned seventeen on January 30th—

exactly sixty seven days ago.

By wizarding standards, she had come of age.

But what of her own standards?

"Mary." Bex shot her friend a look; though, in Mary MacDonald's defense, the girl had not yet said anything. "Don't."

"You're lying to yourself to protect Potter and Mar," Mary said after a moment's silence. "And maybe it is helping them, maybe it isn't. But I know for a fact it isn't helping you." She yanked on her Quidditch robes in a bit of a huff. "Want the stress in your shoulders to go away? Confront your feelings or shag one of those fit Hufflepuff seventh years. Stop internalizing everything."

Mary hopped off the bed and snatched her broom off the wall. "Now, I'm off to more pressing matters. With the game against Ravenclaw on Friday, you just know Potter's going to put us to work. Try not to let that thought put you into a fluster, Lils. Cheers."

The door slammed shut behind her.

"You know," Bex said in her quiet, thoughtful way, "I think our dear Mary has a point."

"Please stop talking," Lily said, flopping back down onto the bed.

"Just think—"

"Stop. Talking," she muttered, running a hand back through her hair. And did not imagine the hand belonging to one James Jonathan Potter. To hell with Mary, Lily was stronger than that. She and James spent a great deal of time in each other's company. They shared four classes, a mass of mutual friends, and what was solidifying into a crucial friendship. They trusted each other with their lives. They'd both been through hell and knew there was hell to come. And yet, at the end of the day, they could both make the other laugh. Lily wasn't about to jeopardize a relationship like that just because every fond glance James shot Marlene stabbed Stinging Jinxes through her gut. She wasn't about to give up her friendship because she had— once or twice— reimagined the Kiss. James's hands threading through her tangled locks, tugging her lips closer to his—

Lily jerked her hand away from her hair like a burnt finger away from a hot stove.

So it was a work in progress. Lily was a quick study; she'd figure out a way to make this work, sooner or later.

"Okay. Shag, marry, kill. Professor McGonegall, Vorheys, or Binns," Marlene said, a mirthful glint in her hazel eyes.

"Binns?" James snorted. "He's a ghost. How would that work?"

"Ask Greg Creevey, I guess. Word among the Slytherins is that he's got a ghost kink."

"Merlin, McKinnon. You are savage."

She laughed, swinging the hand that was intertwined with his own. "Fine. I'll give you an easier one then. Shag, marry, kill. A Quaffle, a Bludger, or a Snitch."

James choked on his own spit, and his girlfriend crowed in victory. "Shag the Quaffle, I suppose. But I'd buy her a fancy dinner first."

"What a gentleman you are."

"Kill the Bludger. Kill all the Bludgers. And marry the Snitch, obviously."

"Because you love a good chase," Marlene said with a smirk.

"You don't miss much, do you?" he grinned back, trying to ignore the blur of red hair in the distance. Lily, Remus, and James had agreed to study for Potions together by the Black Lake ten minutes from now.

"Not really, unless you're referring to my last Ancient Runes exam," Marlene replied. "It was disastrous. And I have you to blame, I think. Running away to Hogsmeade instead of doing something productive—"

"Objection! Snogging is incredibly productive."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Keep talking."

James kicked a rock into the Black Lake by which they were strolling. "Hmm. Well snogging requires a great deal of effort. It's physical activity, you know? Keeps you fit."

"And you've got a Quidditch match tomorrow," Marlene mused aloud. "We wouldn't want you out of shape for the big day."

"Looks to me like you've got an idea or two, McKinnon."

"Just one, really," she said, snatching him by his tie toward her face. And then they were kissing, her teeth nipping his bottom lip, and James was wondering what exactly he had done to deserve this girl.

"Is this what the kids are calling studying these days?" Lily Evans' voice amused voice broke out behind them. James turned to see her and Remus approaching them, books in hand. "Shall we give it a go, then, Remus?"

Her friend laughed with a blush. "Moaning Myrtle will kill me if she finds out I've been disloyal."

"So that's why you've been spending so much time in the girl's bathroom!" Lily said in mock surprise. "You know, word among the Slytherins is—"

"Merlin, do they have anything better to do than gossip all day?" James said with a laugh.

Marlene shook her head. "These days, they could even give Dorcas a run for her money."

What Lily and Marlene weren't telling James:

The cruel things the Slytherins were sayings about

Lily, James, and the "side-piece" Marlene McKinnon.

A awkward silence fell, which Remus readily picked up by initiating the study session.

"I told my roommates I'd study with them later," Marlene said, excusing herself with a quick peck on James' cheek. "See you all later!"

James loved watching her walk away.

Lily cleared her throat. "So. What is the function of the Bulvindrium Potion?"

"Permanent preservation of plants," Remus responded. "I remember it because it has three ps."

"Oh," Lily said, nodding, "that's smart. I remember it because the Bulvindring flower that the potion is named after was said to live forever. Remember when we talked about it during that lesson on eternity magic?"

"You're making this too complicated," James said with a laugh. "It doesn't have to be so hard."

"It's not that hard to memorize one potion's function," Lily said, crossing her arms over her chest. "But Slughorn's give us over a hundred. Sometimes you need a little mnemonic."

"No. I just memorize everything, cold-turkey."

"Prongs is smarter than he lets on," conceded Remus.

"Not so loud, Remus. The arrogant toerag might hear," she replied, but the smile on her lips betrayed just how much her dynamic with James had shifted. She teased out of friendship, not spite. The knowledge of this filled James with an indescribable sense of warmth. Rightness. What had he done before he was friends with Lily Evans?

"Always one for flattery, Evans," he said, closing his book with a theatrical sigh. "Keeping my self esteem high."

Lily crumpled up a piece of scrap parchment. "Your self esteem is high enough as it is," she said, chucking the makeshift ball at his head. He caught it an inch from his face.

"A compliment! I'll take it."

He tossed the ball back at her.

"You two are so distracting. Like little kids," Remus said, squinting at his illegible notes.

"Does that make you our dad?" James shot back, but his heart wasn't into it. In such a world, Lily would be his sister. And the way she was sitting now, eyes emerald and bright in the evening sun, hair glinting, arms crossed over her chest, the top button of her blouse fit to pop— well, surely there existed no world in which Lily could be his sister.

Stop, James, he scolded himself as Remus bantered with Lily. Marlene. You are dating Marlene. This happened from time to time— this Feeling around his friend. He was a boy; she was a beautiful girl; that attraction could not disappear overnight. He attributed it to lust, stupid lust made him dream of the wrong girl at night or have a chemical reaction when his friend sat too close to him the Great Hall. He hadn't told Marlene about it. There was no reason. He wasn't a slave to his hormones, and Lily wasn't a real threat to his relationship with his girlfriend.

Still.

At times like these, with Lily cocking her head at him, noting his silence, a pregnant question on her lips, eyes sparking with endearment and laughter and curiosity, an aching thought rolled through James's veins and arteries and bones.

What if Lily Evans had found it in herself

to reciprocate the desires

he had finally abandoned?

It was a retrograde Idea, one he forced down with a swallow. Get a grip, James.

"What's going on in there?" Lily asked softly, watching him watch her.

"Damn it, Evans," James said, shaking his head, "Gryffindor was up by seventy five and Mary was about to catch the snitch. You couldn't have waited two more seconds?"

"Merlin," Remus gasped, "Professor Hafen will be so proud of your breakthrough in Divination."

"Perhaps I possess the Inner Eye after all!"

"Only one way to find out," Lily said. "You nervous for tomorrow?"

"I'd be a fool not to be."

"Don't worry. Sirius has the booze for a victory party, no matter the score," Remus said, exchanging an eye roll with his fellow prefect.

"We're going to win," James said firmly. Remus made a noise. "What? You don't believe me?"

"I believe you," Lily said, no hint of teasing in her voice now. Her gaze was steady, the corners of her lips edging at a smile, small chin jutted in certainty.

James swallowed, but this time, he couldn't seem to deflate the Idea and the Feeling rising up inside of him. He swallowed again. And again.

"You are not yawning during the game of the season," Sirius said incredulously to Lily. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I stayed up to an ungodly hour to finish studying last night."

"I know. I could hear you and Moony and Prongs giggling like schoolgirls all the way from the dormitories."

"I couldn't convince James to get to bed. I don't know how he's staying up on his broom right now."

Sirius shook his head in admiration. "He's doing more than staying up on his broom right now. He's beating the bloody shite out of those Ravenclaws."

And so he was. Always orchestrating new formations, bucking and diving and spinning and slamming the Quaffle past their defenses time and time again. It was necessary, too. Gryffindor's Keeper wasn't the strongest this year, and the team desperately needed the points.

"Come on, Mare," Lily muttered, clutching her hands together anxiously. "Catch the damn Snitch."

James was roaring toward the hoops again. Davies chucked him the Quaffle, and he feigned a throw to the left hoop, at the last minute swooping and lunging for the right. The Quaffle passed through the goal as the crowd erupted.

"We're up by thirty!" Peter broke in. "If we keep this up—" He broke off as the pair of Ravenclaw Beaters zoomed towards James. "That can't be good."

In a synchronized attack, the Beaters smacked two Bludgers towards James. One smashed through the back of his broom, sending splinters flying through the air. By the time the second one neared him, James had lurched out of the way. But the damage had been done. James' flying was askew; his broken broom impaired his flight trajectory. The Beaters followed, Bludgers buzzing at their sides. James ducked again as a ball whizzed past his shoulder, executing a tight corkscrew as another zoomed toward his broom again. Lily gritted her teeth as she watched James hang on during a jerky exit from the spin. The broom just wasn't doing its job anymore.

"Foul!" yelled Sirius. "They can't do this! It goes directly against—"

He groaned with the rest of the crowd as another Bludger whirled on James, this time connecting with his gut. His broom hadn't made the dive in time. The boy mulishly clung to his broom nonetheless, looking as though he might empty his stomach at any second. The Gryffindor Beaters were tearing down the field to come to James's defense. Still, another Bludger pounded into James's arm.

"She whistled!" Lily gasped, tugging on Sirius' arm. "Thank Merlin, the referee just called violation!"

James was lurching on his broom but still keeping alight. There was no way he could keep playing, though Lily imagined he would protest the contrary. She prayed he would not be too stubborn; her own stomach was tying itself in knots each time he took a blow.

Why weren't the Ravenclaw Beaters flying down to receive their punishment? Lily squinted, then gasped: the first Beater launched yet another Bludger at James, who was looking at the referee instead. The ball smashed into James' face, and an awful crunching noise sounded through the stadium. The audience cringed. Lily screamed. Sirius punched a wall.

"How could he!" Sirius yelled.

"It was a time out!"

"I'm going to destroy their puckered asses—"

"Oh my God, he's falling from his broom!"

Indeed, it seemed James was finally losing consciousness. He tumbled off of his broom, which had fortunately lowered ten feet from the ground. Still, the fall was messy; the boy landed in a tangled heap on the ground.

Lily was making an involuntary keening noise at the back of her throat. She could hardly breathe. Blood was pooling around James' body. The crowd has half in an uproar, half in a hush. Officials were sprinting toward the center of the field, some screaming for the Beaters to stop, some pleading for medical assistance.

"He's going okay, Lils," Sirius said, taking the girl in his arms. But his arms shook as they encircled her. "He always is."

Embarrassedly, she batted at an angry tear that had snaked its way to the corner of her eye. Marlene wasn't crying for James. Lily had no business doing so.

"They're going to pay for this," Sirius said, looking at her levelly. "This wasn't just a Quidditch violation. This was something else entirely."

"What are you implying?" Lily demanded, throwing a glance down to where James was being hurried off the field and the Beaters were being torn into by the referees. "That this was premeditated?"

Sirius' brows furrowed. "Maybe. All I can say is that today, James Potter had a fat target painted on his back."

"Then we're going to find out why."

James woke up in a healing draught-induced stupor. HIs face was numb and covered in bandages. His arm was in a sling, his legs in braces. Just opening his eyes induced pain.

"Merlin," he growled, blinking in the sight of his friends standing around his bedside. "I feel like centaur shite."

"Is that a level up or a level down from hippogriff dung?" Sirius inquired brightly.

"Level down, I suppose," said James, moving to sit up and finding he could do no such thing.

Marlene moved to touch his arm, then seemed to think better of it. "We've got good news for you. Your broom's going to be all right. A quick trip to a broom repair shop should fix it right up."

"Thank Merlin," James breathed. He'd returned the broom he stole to escape the New Year's attacks back to the shop on Diagon Alley. And then he'd bought it right back. The Golden Arrow had saved his life; now it was a part of him, a little piece of his soul. Losing that broom would be like amputating a limb.

"We won, too," Peter said through a toothy smile. "Mary was bloody brilliant. Wouldn't stop screaming choice words at the Ravenclaws. I think Boot was so appalled that he forgot to chase the Snitch."

"Mare's a dictionary of vulgarities," Marlene stated proudly. "I think even you could learn a thing or two from her, Black."

"Mad woman," Sirius sighed in a sort of awed reverence.

James managed a smile. "Good to hear. Drink double in my honor tonight, yeah?"

"No way," said Remus aggressively. "We'll stay here with you tonight."

"You will do no such thing!" Madame Pomfrey's shrill voice sounded across the hospital wing. "None of you will remain in this hall past twenty thirty, hear me?"

"But—"

"Not after that ruckus you pulled in February!"

"Simply delivering Greg Creevey his Valentine's present? Madame Pomfrey, that hardly seems fair—" Sirius began, but even he was quelled by the woman's jabbed finger.

"We'll be gone by twenty thirty, then."

He pulled up a chair next to James, and the others followed suit. Casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, Marlene slid a small bag under James' cot. It gave a couple suspicious glass clanks.

"If you can't join us for the victory party, then I'll just have to bring the party to you," she murmured.

"Is that…"

"An eight-pack of fire whisky? Yeah."

"I—" James swallowed. He was about to say I love you, but caught himself right in time. "You never fail to amaze me, McKinnon."

She grinned that feral grin of hers in response. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other, and James felt that despite his injuries and his questions and worries, everything was working out quite all right.

And then Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Ryan Oliver Lewis walked strode through the doors, robes swishing, and everything felt sour again.

Sirius was on his feet in an instant. "Explain your team or get out, Lewis. I mean it." His voice was menacing and burning with fury.

If Ryan was intimidated, he did not look it. His face was impassive, his posture stiff. "I didn't come here to fight," he stated calmly. "I just came to deliver Potter a message."

James frowned. God, he never liked Ryan, for the obvious reason of him being Lily's ex, but right now he was acting particularly vexing.

"Okay, then deliver the goddamn message," he snapped through his gauze.

Ryan walked over to the cot and thrust out a note. With two weak fingers, James grasped the paper.

"Is that it, then?" he asked.

"That's it," Ryan said, swallowing heavily. And then he jerked out of the room, leaving the group slightly dumbfounded.

"So? What does it say?" asked Peter, bemused.

James struggled with the note until Marlene helped him open it.

He read it to himself, the others looking on expectantly.

You dig, and we cut off your hands. You eavesdrop, we hack off your ears. You stare, and we gouge out your eyes. You sniff us out, we rip your nose off. You talk, we saw off your tongue. Today is a warning, tomorrow is a promise.

Next time, the girl pays your penance.

James crumpled up the paper with what strength remained in his hand, jaw clenching tightly.

"James? What is it?" Marlene said, her face white.

He closed his eyes. "Someone find me Evans. As soon as possible. Please."

Marlene's eyes hardened, but James had no choice. He needed Lily. Now.

Lily raised a Butterbeer as the Gryffindors toasted their team in the common room, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Cheers!" Bex grinned, downing her bottle.

"Cheers," Lily said a half second too late. Her perceptive friend rounded on her.

"Let me remind you that this was your decision, Lily Evans."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she grumbled into her glass.

"Then go to the hospital wing. No one's stopping you."

Lily imagined Marlene sitting at James' side, her thumb tracing its way across his palm, supporting him the way that she could not, and she shook her head.

"I can't be that kind of friend to him. It's not right. I just have to keep some boundaries, that's all."

"You friend could have died today. I think all boundaries are off the table right now."

It killed Lily not to be there, counting the rises and falls of his chest, the sweet reminder that he was and would be okay. It tore her right to shreds.

"I'll visit him first thing tomorrow," she decided aloud.

And then Remus tore into the room. "James needs you!" he yelled, slightly out of breath. And Lily, without a doubt, without a blink, thrust her drink into Bex's hand and took off running.

"Twenty thirty!" Madame Pomfrey announced. "Everyone, out."

James flicked his eyes toward the door again. Dammit, where was she?

"Just a couple more minutes!" Sirius begged, but out came the finger and he stopped again.

"I don't want to leave you like this, mate," Peter said, pacing across the floor.

"I'll be okay, Worms. do yourself a favor and get a couple—" he veered course at the sight of Madame Pomfrey's hovering presence "—pumpkin juices in your belly."

"Will do."

"Twenty thirty," Pomfrey spat. "OUT!"

The students shuffled reluctantly out of the room, murmuring their goodbyes, when she sprinted through the door. Lily Amelia Evans, wild eyed, fierce and feral in her own right.

"Not you too!" Pomfrey cried, throwing her hands into the air. "Everyone, out!"

"Urgent prefect business," Lily gasped. "Please, Madame Pomfrey. I'll lock up for you in a couple minutes. Potter and I have something to discuss, but it won't take long."

Madame Pomfrey's eyes softened. The kiss-up in Lily Evans was one of James' favorite points of ridicule, but he praised the girl for the trait now. The woman grumbled but allowed Lily to stay behind.

Marlene cast a look over her shoulder as she left the two of them alone. It made James feel like hell.

"What's going on?" Lily demanded once the door was closed.

James didn't speak at first. He just breathed in Lily's steadying presence.

"This was more than a Quidditch accident, wasn't it?" she reasoned aloud. "Sirius and I suspected as much. But I convinced myself it wasn't the Dark Circle— not until now." She was floundering in front of him, hands fluttering like wings. "It was the Dark Circle, wasn't it? They got Ravenclaws to their cause, or used the Imperius Curse, perhaps. It'll be a trick to figure out which one, of course, but—"

"It was the Imperius Curse," James finally said, sparing Lily at last.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because your ex-boyfriend just walked in here thirty minutes ago under it, as well. I'm sure of it."

"Ryan?" Lily choked out. She took a step closer to James's side. "Oh God."

James nodded numbly, handing her the crumbled paper. Lily smoothed it out and read quickly.

"Merlin, James, what have you done?" she whispered, eyes wide and accusing.

"I didn't want to worry you, Evans. It wasn't anything major—"

"No! No, James, you do not get to do this!" Lily screamed, crumpling back up the paper and stamping it on the ground. "That's not fair. We're a team! Anything we do, we do together! You promised!"

"I didn't want to see you hurt, okay?" James shouted back. "You're a large enough target, being a Muggleborn! I thought, the more information I could gather by myself—"

"Damn you," Lily hissed, "don't you see? Now you're just as big of target as me!"

"I was never one to be outdone," James said, a miserable attempt at a joke that Lily did not take gracefully.

"What'd you do exactly, anyways?" she asked hotly.

"Polyjuice Potion'ed my way into one of their meetings," he mumbled to himself.

"WHAT?!" she screamed. "Of all the idiotic things, James Potter—"

"But listen—"

"And how'd that go for you, huh? Any information you could have gathered is useless! They caught you in the act, it's a marvel you escaped with your life—"

"Listen—"

"This is not your burden! It's not even our burden! It's Dumbledore's burden, and you need to remember that—"

"WOULD YOU LISTEN TO ME, EVANS?" James yelled as best he could through his bandages. "I got out of the meeting without anyone catching me! That was a week ago. And just yesterday, I tried snagging some of Goyle's mail at the Owlery. Snape saw me. That's what this is about."

"My God," Lily said disbelievingly, "you're still defending yourself."

James blew out a long breath. "Could you please pass me one of the bottles under my bed?" he asked as evenly as he could.

Lily stomped over and snatched a bottle. But instead of handing it over, she proceeded to the empty the whiskey herself.

"Slow down, Evans," James said softly.

Lily threw an unopened bottle his way, eyes slits. "You don't tell me what to do."

"No?" James countered, "but you seem perfectly content to tell me what to do instead."

Lily took another heavy gulp. "Fine. Fine. On the count of three, we both apologize," she said, fulfilling his previous statement. James was wise enough not to point this out.

"Fine."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

A pause.

"I was scared today," Lily admitted. "You scared the crap out of me, James."

"You scared the crap out of me today, too. I can't make sense of the Dark Circle's threat. The girl they mentioned…" He cleared his throat. "I, uh, don't think they're talking about Marlene."

"You think it's me. Why? Because of my history with the Dark Circle?"

"Um, exactly," James said quickly, hoping she couldn't see the red creeping up his neck.

"Well it doesn't add up. I'm the one person Snape wouldn't harm. He would never make threats against me."

"To keep me in line, he would."

"Why? Because I'm your friend? There are more obvious people he could have singled out, like Marlene or Sirius."

Some advice about difficult conversations, reader:

they're often easier with alcohol.

James gulped down the rest of his bottle. It was small; he could use another, and told Lily as much. She reached to hand him another.

"Maybe you're right, Evans, but trust my gut on this one. I just know it's you. And tonight— you hadn't come to visit me, and I thought that maybe—"

"James," Lily said quietly, easing onto the side of his cot, "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. It's just— I couldn't— I couldn't see you with— with—"

She opted for more firewhiskey instead of finishing the sentence.

"There's nothing to apologize for. It's hard seeing people with injuries like these."

"That's not it."

There was something guarded and painful in those twin pools of green. "Well, when you didn't show up, I thought that maybe something had happened to you. That they had done something. And whatever they did to you— that would be on me." He shook his head, drank again. "And I could never live with that knowledge. Never."

"This is our battle," Lily said firmly. "And my choice as much as yours. In the future, we act together. And the consequences fall on both of us, and we take them, and blame and guilt are never even objects in question."

"You're in danger now, Lily. If I put one toe out of line—"

"Stop. The moment you play by their games, we lose. Don't let their threats dictate how you live. How we live."

"These are real and dangerous threats made by real and dangerous men! How would you propose we proceed?"

She leaned in close to him, breath sweet with whisky and warmth. "Delicately," she whispered with a conspiratorial lilt. "You tell me everything you got from that meeting, and we decide how best to proceed. We pass this information between as few people as possible, to protect me and to protect you. And we prepare ourselves to counterattack."

James paused for a moment, taking the words in. He laughed shakily. "And this, Evans," he said, sloppily booping her on the nose, "is why I love you." He did not register the words until they had spilled out of his mouth, irretrievable. He had been so careful around Marlene just earlier this evening, dancing around the dangerous, loaded words. But now, with Lily's body pressed up beside him, her heart bleeding on her tongue, they slid out of their own subordinate accord.

Lily smiled sleepily back at him. "It's why I love you, too, y'know."

He swallowed once, twice, thrice, but the Feeling would not come down.

"Night, Evans," he said hoarsely.

"Night, Potter," she murmured back, leaning onto his broken limbs. James did not care about his aching bones, the danger they were both in, the red hair flung across his face.

All he cared about was the echo of five words across the landscape of his mind.

I love you, too, y'know.

Unsung words can serve as lullabies, too,

[when the right person says them.]