Let Go

by Hollow Nightmare

Summary: James and Lily haven't spoken in over year. So when James nearly dies after a life-threatening attack, why is Lily Evans the face he wakes up to?

Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: My new story, which has been in the works for a while now before I finally started writing it out. It won't be too long, maybe about six chapters. Also, there is nothing to say that this couldn't be canon; I made sure that nothing goes directly against what JK Rowling has written/said. Of course, it's incredibly unlikely that this is what JK Rowling imagined happened, but I wanted to come up with a more interesting, original way of James and Lily finally getting together. Please leave a review!

Chapter One: Heaven and Hell

... the hell?

James blearily blinked his eyes open and focused on... something. A white blob. Actually, now that he thought about it, everything around him was white. Just... all white.

Oh, God.

He was dead, wasn't he? This was Heaven, and he was dead.

How had he died? Maybe he had fallen off his broomstick and cracked his head on the ground. It certainly felt like it; the back of his head was pounding and there was an uncomfortable pressure that made him wonder if his head was going to explode. He wondered if heads could actually explode in Heaven.

But that couldn't be right, because the pounding in his skull was the least of his worries. What was rather alarming was the increasingly frequent waves of pain across his chest, like trails of fire whipping from his collarbone to the base of his ribs. Did they actually have fire in Heaven, or was that only Hell?

Merlin, this couldn't be right. These were really... really incredibly painful. These were -

Oh! Bloody hell, fuck, that hurt -

James flinched his head to the side as another wave of pain slammed across his chest. He breathed in sharply and tensed his whole body until it passed. Then he opened his eyes and nearly recoiled in shock.

There was something next to him. A red blob. On top of a... black blob.

Well.

Oh! If this was Heaven, then that must be an angel!

He gasped as another wave of pain hit him, his breath getting caught in his throat. Maybe the angel could help him. Maybe it could make the torture stop. Maybe it could stop the pain. He just needed to get its attention...

"Hello?" he said. "Can you help me? Please... please make it stop..."

Or, rather, what he tried to say. What actually came out was more like, "Hnnghhh..."

There was a sharp intake of breath next to him, and then something cool and hard was being pressed against his face - his glasses, he dimly realized - and everything came into focus. This was... the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts? Yes, that was it. The same white ceiling, white walls, white floor. White, stiff and uncomfortable beds, pillows, and comforters. White chairs and white closets and white windowsills.

But... what was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?

There was a strangled sound from the angel next to him, and James turned to look at it.

Woah. Most definitely not an angel.

It was Lily Evans. And she looked... hideous. Her skin was frighteningly pale; every single one of her freckles contrasted sharply with it. Her eyes were rimmed with red and sunken in, on top of heavy, dark bags. Her lips were colorless, and her hair was lank and lifeless, tied back limply.

So... he wasn't in Heaven, and that wasn't an angel next to him.

He wasn't dead.

Ah. Well. He always had been rather over-dramatic.

Another wave of pain coursed over him. James sucked in air through his gritted teeth and clenched his hands in the bed sheets. His whole body automatically tensed until the pain passed, then James relaxed against the pillow and let out a shaky breath. Fuck, these were bloody horrible.

"James?" Lily asked in a small voice.

James turned his head slightly to look at her. She was sitting on one of the standard Hospital Wing chairs (just stiff and uncomfortable enough to discourage visitors). She was hunched forward, looking at him with very worried eyes, and James was again struck by how simply awful she looked.

He cleared his throat, remembering what happened last time he tried to speak, then opened his mouth.

"Are you okay?" he said. His voice was quiet and very hoarse.

Lily's mouth opened a little and she silently stared at him for a few long seconds. She looked as if she couldn't quite believe what he had just said, and James felt very self-conscious. Had he said something wrong? Had he said something stupid again?

"Am I okay?" she repeated incredulously.

James watched as both of her eyebrows rose slightly. He wanted to ask her why she looked horrible, why she hadn't been taking care of herself, but he didn't get the chance. Another wave of pain hit him. He shut his eyes tightly against it and held his breath until it passed. When he opened his eyes Lily was standing up by his bed and staring at him.

"James," she said, and again her voice was so small, so scared, "you're shaking."

James looked down at himself and found that, indeed, he was. His whole body had decided, against his will, to start trembling madly - until the pain returned and every single muscle in his body clenched. Lily's lips were clamped together tightly, and James would have wondered what he had done to make her unhappy (already - and they had only been in the same room for a few moments) if he hadn't already been so preoccupied with the pain. Thank God (well, not really, as this wasn't Heaven), Madam Pomfrey entered and saw he was awake.

Madam Pomfrey was a new, young, no-nonsense, incredibly stubborn witch with terrible social skills, so when Lily addressed her as Poppy, James was more than a little surprised. When had they gotten to a first-name basis? And how was that fair since (until now) Lily had only ever called him Potter (and various other insults) and they had known each other for over six years?

"It's really hurting him, Poppy," said Lily; James would have described her as fretful if he hadn't known better.

"What type of pain is it?" said Madam Pomfrey sharply.

"Er, not constant," replied Lily, since James did not look like he would be talking any time soon. "I think it comes in bursts, or something along those lines."

"Sharp or dull?" she asked, and Lily opened her mouth a little then turned to James.

"Sharp," he managed to croak out.

He watched through a pain-filled haze as Madam Pomfrey tutted and clinked some potion bottles in the corner of the room. Lily hovered nervously by his bed, wringing her hands together. The nurse walked over to James with two glass vials in her hands and shoved one of them at him.

"Drink this," she said brusquely.

James recoiled as one of the vials was thrust into his face. He reached up a hand to take it, and was struggling to sit up when another shockwave of pain hit him and he dropped the vial. He winced as it smashed on the floor, shattering loudly into tiny fragments of broken, glittering glass. Of course the one time Lily willingly spent time in his company he would have to go and embarrass himself.

Madam Pomfrey sighed but tried handing him the other vial, this one filled with a translucent, purple liquid.

"Here, take this one while I clear this up. It should help with your head."

"I'll do it," said Lily suddenly.

James dimly realized his mouth was hanging open, and he promptly closed it. He had already made enough of a fool out of himself.

Lily took the vial and hesitantly stepped towards James, as if afraid he would lunge at her and attack. James hurriedly scrambled into a seating position, wincing as his muscles ached, and nervously watched her as she approached. If possible, she looked even more nervous than him; her lips were in a thin, wobbly line and her eyes were very wide.

Why was she doing this?

"Here," she said, very quietly, "tilt your head back a little."

And then her fingers were on his jaw, applying slight, warm pressure to tilt his head back, and James nearly recoiled from shock. He couldn't help remembering the last time Lily had willingly touched him, and wished he could block the memory from his mind. Her fingers were soft and warm, her touch incredibly light, as if she was afraid to break him. James looked at her face, but she was studiously avoiding his gaze, her eyes concentrated on the purple, viscous liquid. Then James suddenly tensed and trembled violently, and when the pain passed Lily was finally looking directly at him, a thin line between her furrowed eyebrows.

"Sorry," he whispered (since he found he couldn't talk louder even if he had tried), apologizing for stalling her.

Lily made a strangled sound in her throat, but otherwise said nothing, and James wondered if he had said the wrong thing again. He always tended to do that around her.

Then her fingers were gone from his jaw, and James was disappointed until they reappeared at the back of his head, supporting it and holding it and cradling it. If this had been a dream, Lily would have slid her fingers through is hair, realized how soft and silky it was, and fallen in love with him, James thought.

This wasn't a dream, and in reality Lily did not love him. So she simply let her fingers rest on top of his hair, not in it, and brought the vial to his lips, which James automatically opened. The glass felt cool against his skin, contrasting with her warm, shaking fingers. Wait - shaking? Why on Earth was Lily shaking?

She started slowly pouring the liquid into his mouth, and James gagged and spluttered it everywhere - including on her. Lily's mouth dropped open in surprise and James would have flushed bright red if he hadn't already been unnaturally pale.

God, that stuff was utterly disgusting.

"Sorry," he croaked out, insanely glad his friends weren't here; they would have cracked up laughing, and he was embarrassed enough as it was.

"It's fine," said Lily automatically, and they were both silent as a drop of the purple medicine dripped from her chin onto the floor, splattering loudly. James had in the insane urge to start giggling, but doubted he could even if he tried.

"Mr Potter," said Madame Pomfrey in exasperation, "you really have to drink all of this or your head will never clear up."

Oh. Right. His head. It was still throbbing and pulsing and about to explode.

Strange how he had forgotten about it during Lily's touch.

"Here," said Lily, coming closer again (brave, thought James, since she was most likely going to get splattered again).

Her fingers were at the back of his head again, the vial was pressed to his lips, and the purple liquid was slowly trickling into his mouth; it became more disgusting with each second, until James' eyes were watering with the effort not to spit it everywhere.

Finally it was over and Lily stepped back, her hand leaving his rapidly clearing head; James couldn't decide if he was pleased or disappointed. Madame Pomfrey handed Lily another vial, just like the one he had dropped (he hadn't even noticed her get another one out), and then Lily's hand was back on his head. This time, he swore he felt her rub her thumb softly against his hair, and it felt so nice he wanted to sigh. He was probably just imagining it.

"This one should help with the chest pain," explained Madame Pomfrey abruptly as Lily poured the liquid into his mouth.

This one was tasteless, but the texture was horrible and it was thick and sticky going down his throat. Why was it impossible to create potions or medicine that tasted even slightly decent?

After two more vials of potions (one for his aching muscles, and another one that James had no idea what it was for but Madam Pomfrey insisted was important), they were finished, and Lily had sat back in her seat while the nurse bustled around, making notes. James lay back against his lumpy pillow, exhausted but unable to sleep.

"What happened?" he asked after a few moments of silence. It had been the first and foremost question on his mind (right after 'what was Lily doing here?' but he couldn't very well ask that one without appearing rude).

Lily blinked and turned to frown at Madam Pomfrey. "You don't remember?" said the nurse, in a strange voice.

James tried to think, but all he could concentrate on was how awful Lily looked at the moment. "No," he said eventually, unsure of how he got here or why he had been in pain.

Lily pursed her lips and even Madam Pomfrey stilled and turned to look at him. "You were attacked," the nurse explained bluntly, "by Evan Rosier at the Hogsmeade train station. He hit you with a terribly nasty curse."

And suddenly James remembered. He'd been late for the train back to King's Cross, and when he got there Rosier had been in a foul mood too. James had asked about the train being gone, and next thing he knew they were in a full-blown argument, about to start dueling when Rosier had attacked him. James remembered flashing purple light, a sharp, intense pain not unlike the ones he had experienced earlier, and then he had blacked out.

Lily had been watching his face carefully during these thoughts, her eyes still wide and worried; she reminded James oddly of a terrified bush-baby. "Do you remember now?" she asked quietly.

James nodded once, shortly and unsmiling. He desperately needed to know what had happened to Rosier, but didn't dare ask in case he got the answer he didn't want.

"Rosier was expelled immediately," said Lily softly, apparently having read his mind. James turned his head to look at her, his eyes taking in every inch of her devastating image.

Good.

James nodded once more without speaking. What was there to say? The nurse left the Hospital Wing, presumably to tell Dumbledore he had awoken, and Lily turned her gaze to her hands, sitting back in the chair by his bed. James took the opportunity to study her, taking in the dark circles around her eyes, her colorless lips and limp hair and wondered what had happened to her.

He didn't dare ask.

"How long have I been here?" he said instead, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Five days," she replied immediately, without looking up from burning a hole in her hands.

He nodded again. "Do - Do my parents...?"

"Dumbledore sent them an urgent owl, but it hasn't returned yet." She looked up at him, finally, and, while James wanted to, he refused to tear his gaze away from hers. "I don't mean to worry you, or anything," she added quickly.

James shook his head quickly to reassure her and tried clearing his throat. "They're on a holiday cruise. They're not supposed to have any contact with anyone from back home."

What James didn't add was that they were doing it at the request of their relationship counselor, who had suggested they take time away from the rest of the world so they could get to know each other again after all they had been through. And the rest of the world included James, of course, even though he was their son.

They fell into an awkward silence. Lily, still pale and haggard-looking, stared anywhere but at him while James tried to piece everything together in his mind. He could remember pain, lots of pain, the fury and hate in Rosier's face, his own anger bubbling to the surface... It scared him that someone so young could inflict such harm against another person.

"How did I get here?" he asked, frowning again at Lily.

"Someone from the village saw what happened, and intervened," said Lily quietly, her gaze flickering between him and her hands, as if she was still nervous. "They called for Dumbledore, who brought you back here. He expelled Rosier the next day. No one's heard from him since."

James hesitated, but he just had to know. It was driving him insane. "And... you?" he asked, slowly capturing her gaze.

Lily sucked on the inside of her cheek, her chin lowered even as she looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"What are you doing here?"

Lily flushed, and looked unsure of how to respond. James frowned again at her uncharacteristic behavior. "Helping Poppy," she said quickly.

Ah. Of course. James was surprised by the wash of disappointment that settled over him; what else had he been expecting? He'd known that Lily was an exceptionally talented student, especially in Potions, and even had a vague memory of finding out that she was being specially trained by the new nurse in Healing, a course that Hogwarts didn't normally even offer. She always had been special, and not just to him. Of course she was here for Madam Pomfrey.

"What do you do?" he asked, and when she looked confused he clarified, "To help her?"

She hesitated, but at least now she was looking at him, not her hands. Success, thought James, though he was still wondering about her abnormal behavior.

"I'm... kind of like an intern, I guess," she said slowly. "Sort of... practicing while still learning." James nodded, and she hastened to add, "I... kind of need you to keep quiet about this, though. Hogwarts doesn't normally do this kind of thing, and I know I'm really lucky, and if I made a big deal out of it people would talk about unfair treatment and double standards and..."

She trailed off suddenly, and ducked her head to look down at her hands. She looked as if she wanted to hide behind her hair but, unfortunately for her, it was tied up. James just blinked at her, unnerved by her babbling. Lily had always been an outgoing, stubborn person not afraid to make her opinions known but, ever since... that night, she had been a very quiet, almost reserved girl, and she hadn't said more than a couple of words to James in over a year. What was going on?

She was still refusing to look at him, so James took his time in studying her, noting how terrible she looked. Her eyes were the worst. Bloodshot and red-rimmed, the green of her irises should have popped out in contrast, but instead even they seemed lifeless and worn away. She looked so tired.

"Not lucky," he finally said, and he hardly recognized his voice. Her eyes flashed to his and he suddenly realized his comment had seemingly come out of nowhere; they had been sitting in silence for at least five minutes. "Talented. You deserve the special treatment."

She sucked both of her lips into her mouth, and when she released them James was fixed on the blood filling them, turning them a rosy color. It didn't last long; the pink soon faded back into pale, colorless tone they had been before. He looked up to find Lily watched him, and was astounded by the pink hue of her cheeks. Was she blushing? He knew redheads had a tendency to blush often, but Lily usually only blushed when she was angry. Had he somehow managed to make her angry again?

"Um," she said quietly, and her eyes nervously flitted to her hands before meeting his again. "Thank you."

He followed her gaze to her hands, studying them. They were small, equally as pale as her face, with one or two freckles dotted here and there. Her fingers were thin, almost child-like, and her fingernails were chewed almost to the extreme. He hadn't know she bit her nails.

Why was she being so civil towards him?

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said a voice, and James raised his eyes to see Professor Dumbledore entering the Hospital Wing. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious. "Glad to see you've awoken."

"Thank you, sir," he replied as Professor Dumbledore sat in the other free chair, next to Lily, who was watching him.

Professor Dumbledore, as if feeling her gaze, turned to smile at her and said gently, "Would you mind giving us a moment alone please, Miss Evans?"

James watched as Lily's eyebrows furrowed, then her face went curiously blank. He was uncertain as to the reason of her reluctance to leave, but went along with it (he really was quite pathetic in his willingness to make her happy, he thought to himself).

As she was standing up without a protest, he suddenly blurted out, "It's okay, she can stay." Both of them turned to look at him, and he looked back and forth between them, taking in their equally surprised expressions. "I mean... if that's alright with you, sir."

The surprise fell off of Lily's face, and it became impossible to read. Professor Dumbledore, however, almost seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes that made James very uneasy. Uneasy was much better than in incredible pain, however, so he voiced no complaints.

"Of course, of course," said Professor Dumbledore, gesturing for Lily to sit back down again. "Sit, please, Miss Evans."

She did so, hesitantly, watching James with that still curiously unreadable face. Professor Dumbledore went straight to business, almost seeming to ignore Lily.

"I assume you've been caught up with recent events, including Rosier's position in - or should I say out? - of Hogwarts, and our inability to contact your parents."

"Yes," nodded James.

"Good. Now, Madam Pomfrey and Miss Evans have been watching over you for five days, spending a colossal amount of time on your case..."

His voice seemed to become almost muted as James looked at Lily. She was studiously ignoring his gaze, focused on Professor Dumbledore's face as he spoke. Had she really spent all that time here? Just for him?

Of course. Intern. Healer training. It must have been a fascinating case for her.

Why was he again surprised at the disappointment?

"...the curse that you were hit with was..."

The Professor's voice came back into focus for a second, and James turned to look at him. He looked very serious, unsmiling, with his blue eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles that glinted in the light whenever he moved. However, James was distracted by the long white hair and beard, which made his appearance almost comical. His hair looked very soft, thought James vaguely, and... he peered closer, frowning. Was that a strand of red hair? Had Professor Dumbledore been ginger?

"...Mr. Potter? James?"

James snapped back to focus, and would have shaken his head if he wasn't worried the pain would return. Jeez, his thoughts were scattered everywhere, totally out of focus. Maybe the potions were making him go loopy. He needed to concentrate.

"Sorry," he said, and vaguely noticed Lily's lips had flattened into a thin line again. "What were you saying, sir?"

"I was inquiring about your parents. Do you have any way of contacting them? I feel they should know about this, even if you don't want them to."

Busted, thought James. He hadn't wanted to worry them; he'd been planning on just getting through the Christmas Holidays and returning to school, and only maybe mentioning it in passing after he graduated.

"No. They're not really supposed to be keeping on contact with anyone. They're on the Marblesweet Cruise," he explained slowly. He was felt almost embarrassed admitting this in front of Lily, but was comforted by the knowledge that she didn't know why they were on the cruise. "Although I guess if I managed to reach the company and told them about it, they'd let my parents know."

"Not to worry, I'll take care of that" replied Professor Dumbledore, smiling. The look on his face told James that Professor Dumbledore knew what the cruise really was; James' automatic embarrassment at revealing family secrets only disappeared when he saw the lack of pity in the professor's eyes.

James nodded, and turned to look at Lily, who had been quiet ever since Professor Dumbledore had entered the room. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her fingers clenching and unclenching, and she was staring at James as if she couldn't believe he was there. Or couldn't believe he was awake.

James was suddenly struck by a thought, and turned back to look at the Professor.

"Sir, what about my friends?" he asked quietly. "I mean, do they... know?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "No. It is not school policy - or hospital policy, for that matter - to contact friends, only family. However... with Rosier being expelled - the first student to be expelled in twenty years - and the fact that your case was very rare, the Daily Prophet managed to find out about the incident, and I have no doubt they will be running a story about it sometime this week."

The incident. James thought it almost ironic that something so ugly, so awful, with such terrible consequences could be described with such a simple euphemism.

No. He needed to concentrate, not think about the meanings of random words.

"So..." he struggled to wrap his head around the words. "They don't know, but they will soon, because of the Daily Prophet?"

"Precisely. Unless you wish to contact them now?"

James hesitated, imagining their reactions in his mind. Poor Peter would have his family holiday in France ruined, Remus would blame himself for not waiting with James, and Sirius would be furious, probably enough to go after Rosier and attack him.

"No," he finally murmured, "I think I'll wait a bit."

Lily was silent, but her gaze was unwavering, burning into his. She let Professor Dumbledore talk.

"As you wish."

Something the professor had said earlier re-entered James' mind, and he frowned, struggling to remember it. What were all of these potions doing to his mind?

"You said... you said my case was very rare," he said slowly. "Why wasn't I taken to St. Mungo's?"

"Well, you were only in Hogsmeade," the professor pointed. "So it was much easier to just bring you to the school. A Healer from St. Mungo's did come to look at you. You could have been transferred but, fortunately, Madam Pomfrey has just recently been doing research on cases such as the one you have, and she has obtained a level of expertise that many in St. Mungo's have not. Coincidence, or fate?" he mused to himself.

James frowned, his thoughts swirling around in his head. It was like trying to catch a fish in water; no matter how fast he went, they slipped through his fingers. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think. And he was so, so tired.

Hadn't he just been sleeping for five days straight? Why the hell was he tired now?

"So... when can I go home?" he asked.

The response startled him; Madam Pomfrey suddenly spoke up loudly from a corner of the room (James was so out of it he hadn't even noticed she had been there throughout the entire conversation).

"Out of the question," she barked.

He blinked.

"But-"

"No. Absolutely not. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but you are in no condition to be going anywhere. You need constant medical supervision. You may be a bright boy, but you do not know what you need right now, which potions to take, or what to do in case of a relapse, or an emergency. I forbid it."

James understood, but he was still incredibly frustrated. He knew he wasn't exactly in perfect condition at the moment (understatement of the year), but... well, it was Christmas. He wasn't going to spend Christmas in the Hospital Wing by himself. He had made plans. He was supposed to spend the next week with Sirius at Sirius' cousin's house, and his parents were supposed to be back by New Year's Eve, planning to drag him off to a Ministry Ball (actually, he wouldn't have minded missing that).

He didn't want to spend Christmas here.

"But... I made plans. I... It's not fair to be stuck here during the holidays by myself. I need to go home, sir," he said, turning to Professor Dumbledore as a last resort.

Professor Dumbledore was sympathetic, but was more in favor of saving James' life then giving James holiday cheer.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I can't let you leave without suitable medical supervision. You could hire someone from St. Mungo's, but it would be very expensive, and probably not very enjoyable," continued Madam Pomfrey.

James wanted to scowl, but found he was too tired to even do that. Thoughts went flitting through his mind, glimpses of words and faces and voices flashing, but he could hardly even remember what they were arguing about.

"Fine," he muttered unhappily, closing his eyes.

"I-I'll do it," said a small voice suddenly, and James' eyes snapped open to stare at Lily.

She slunk back a little in her chair when everyone focused their attention on her, and looked down, her cheeks turning pink. When she looked up, however, her eyes were defiant, despite the tremble in her voice.

"I could go with him. I know enough about the case that I could take care of everything, a-and, I mean, I have no plans for the holidays... I wouldn't mind - he wouldn't have to pay me. I... It isn't fair for him to spend the holidays here..."

She trailed off, unnerved by the silence as the three of them stared at her. James' mouth was hung open, much like earlier, except this time he couldn't even think about closing it.

She... was willing to spend the holidays with him? With him, James Potter, who she hadn't spoken to in over a year (and hardly ever spoke to him even before that, except to yell at him)?

Why?

"I mean... if you want me to," she continued hesitantly.

There was silence for a long moment as they stared at her, and she fidgeted nervously under their gazes. James got the distinct feeling that she wished she could take her words back, but he was too distracted to think about it. She was making no sense today, so unlike the girl she usually was, that she had thrown James totally out of balance (well, even more out of balance; Rosier's attack had already done a lot).

"I-I suppose you could," said Madam Pomfrey slowly, uncertainly looking to Professor Dumbledore, who just raised his eyebrows as if to say, why not?

"Lily," said James softly, and she finally looked up at him, "you don't have to do that."

He was confused by the expression on her face. She lowered her head, hiding it, but he thought she looked almost... hurt? She swallowed, then looked up again, biting her lip.

"I... want to."

Again there was silence. With James' random, skittering thoughts, he was barely aware that there was anyone in the room apart from Lily and himself. They stared at each other, trying to wordlessly communicate. James thought that Lily looked almost scared - though of what, he couldn't imagine.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

He didn't want to discourage her - why on Earth wouldn't he want to spend time with Lily? - but he didn't want her to go out of her way for him, especially if she didn't want to. He couldn't understand how she could even look at him after the way he had treated her that night, let alone want to help him.

But that was Lily, he supposed. Always taking care of the underdog, even if he didn't deserve it. An image of Snape's sallow face flashed in his mind, and James decided he really needed to get to sleep.

"I'm sure," she said, equally as quietly.

"Okay," he managed to get out, feeling so drowsy by now that his eyelids were fluttering closed.

"Okay, it's settled then," he heard Madam Pomfrey say, but he couldn't see her, could only see black, black, black, and he felt as if the world was slipping away, swirling by silently. "We'll continue the arrangements in the morning, and I suppose you can leave straight after that."

"I'll see you later, Poppy," James heard Professor Dumbledore say. "Miss Evans."

There was the sound of footsteps, muffled, then a door opening and closing.

"I'll see you later, Lily," said the nurse, and though her tone wasn't exactly nice, James thought it was nicer than it had been all evening.

More footsteps, another door, even quieter this time, and then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. The noise was loud, but hardly enough to even stir James, who felt as if the world was getting further and further away.

"James," said a small voice to his side, as if coming from a great distance.

"Mmm?" was all he managed to get out, too far gone to even move his lips.

There was a pause, then he heard her breathing hitch. "I..." she trailed off, then seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say. "I'll see you in the morning."

James didn't bother replying, not sure if he was dreaming yet or not. There was a sudden warm, comforting pressure on his hand, but James couldn't figure out what it was, because the world was slipping away...