#mighty-prongs

November 1977

Hogwarts

Lily had been overjoyed to see that she had been awarded the role of Head Girl for her last year of Hogwarts. As the Hogwarts Express stopped before the school, Lily looked over the heads of the other students, searching for her favorite prefect.

As always, Remus had been flanked by his three friends, and even though Lily fully expected it, she also dreaded seeing them all together- it made it so much more difficult for her to get a conversation in with him. Brushing off her sense of dread at the sight of James, Sirius and Peter, Lily pushed herself through the crowd as the Hogwarts Express whistled loudly.

With a final push, Lily found herself in front of the four boys, expecting to see the Head Boy pin already on Remus’ robes. “Hello! How are-” she exclaimed, leaning into their conversation eagerly. She smiled up into Remus’ face, her face falling as she realized there was no pin on the lapel of his robes. She couldn’t help but frown in confusion as she turned to look at the other three and saw the Head Boy pin fastened to the robes of James Potter. “…you…?” She breathed, her brows knitting more deeply.

It must be a joke, right? James must have just taken it for a laugh as they stepped into Hogwarts for their final year. But the confidence in James’ smile didn’t waver with any of the cheeky lip biting and smirking his pranks usually inspired. Lily forced her face to remain pleasant while she wondered when she had begun to learn the differences between James’ smiles.

But as they all made their way onto the grounds, and feasted in the Great Hall, and fell into their first week of classes, Lily was slowly convinced that it was indeed no joke.

Two months into being expected to work together, to rely on each other and trust, Lily was surprised to find James eager in his role and wholly invested. She thought his dedication might wane as soon as the novelty wore off, or he had told his 200th first year where the charms classroom was, but he didn’t falter. Not even when Lily grew weary and short, James seemed to have an abundance of energy.

Now, as Lily sat across from him in the Gryffindor common room, she couldn’t help but glance from her planner to the space above James’ right eyebrow. She had noticed a few weeks ago that when James was reading his right brow arched slightly- he didn’t seem to notice. Sometimes, like right now, it skewed his glasses ever so slightly. Without thinking, Lily reached over and gently pinched the corner of his glasses, straightening them.

It was as if Lily hadn’t realized it was her arm until it was already done. Flushing, Lily quickly retracted her hand, trying to keep her expression calm even as her mind raced with self conscious, deprecating thoughts. What should she do? Apologize? No- that was silly, she just hadn’t been thinking. James Potter didn’t need an apology. But she had just touched him, and that was a bit invasive- but he could deal with it, surely.

Wide eyed, Lily glanced down at her planner, where she had been marking in the next Slug Club meeting with the little stars she drew for things that excited her. “Your glasses weren’t straight-“ Lily explained, feeling her cheeks blush more deeply despite herself. “I didn’t mean to touch you- like, without you being ready for it. Or I mean without you wanting me to.”

Summer, 1976 (right?)

It hadn’t been planned. It had been one of those impulses, his ability of thought washed away with the waves of anger that crashed through his mind. He hadn’t been planned, no, and Sirius hadn’t been quite sure of what he was doing, what it all meant. No, wrong. Sirius knew. He had thought about it plenty. He knew that he would erase himself from the family bound by blood. He knew it meant the end. His teenage mind, rather, couldn’t apprehend truly all that would entail. What it really would mean. He knew deep down that this is what he needed to survive, that he would follow relatives into madness - brought on either by inbred genetics or from the maddening pacing of a trapped animal never allowed to roam free - if he had stayed. If he had forced himself to play the part he had never wanted, never asked for, had no desire to play. He wanted rid of that. He wanted rid of the expectations, the heavy traditions, the lack of any understanding or wellbeing for the individual rather than always always being about the family. 

But had Sirius understood that it would mean that he could never come crashing through Regulus’ door again, to gleefully annoying the younger brother that was so unlike him that Sirius couldn’t help but love? He knew, in theory, what it meant. What it meant that he would never be invited into Orion’s study for discussion and tutoring, to feel that heavy hand on his shoulder, or those moments when mother played the piano and everything was alright, for a while. He could imagine the concept. He wasn’t able to feel it. Hadn’t thought through that it meant pushing Regulus - unprepared, oft ignored but better son from the beginning - into the role Sirius now had refused. 

All in all, Sirius had never liked it at home. The brief moments of joy and familiarity was too often shadowed by the heaviness of the air at Grimmauld. When he first had heard stories that James had spun about his family life, Sirius had thought it fairytales. And then Remus seemed to have a similar, but not entirely same, spin on it. Peter, no. Peter had had a more normal stance on family life. James, Hogwarts, meeting the outside world hadn’t planted the frustration Sirius had always felt, the anger and sadness and hopelessness, but it had nurtured it, encouraged the feelings that he could have something else. 

And thus, that evening, Sirius had tugged out his trunk, filled it with all the letters he had saved from summers past from Peter, the mirror from James, the drawings of Remus laughing, reading, clothes he couldn’t leave behind, precious books, the leather notebook and pencils Regulus had gifted him the past Christmas. The essentials of Sirius - the essentials of him that he had been allowed, or been able to sneak by - thrown into the trunk with a teenage boy’s gangly anger. And then, he had opened the window, levitated it outside (having learned one of the very, very, very few weaknesses of Orion’s fortifications that had allowed him to slip out, to drag himself back home drunk), and jumped after it. He hadn’t looked back, the feeling of it being real rather than just a few days away on a holiday, to punish his parents, to put his foot down. He hadn’t looked back. Maybe he should’ve. Would it had been a difference? Maybe, for his own emotions, later. 

Sirius hadn’t his bike back then. Hadn’t a broom (that was Regulus’ thing). Apparation would be too far for him, too risky in his anger, in his non-licenced novice. Sirius had dragged his trunk the posh London street, saw waiting for the Knight Bus to come collect him.

It hadn’t even rained that evening. 

It hadn’t even rained. 

It all felt so very summery, so happy, so promising, when he later that night stood underneath James’ window, head tipped back to look up at it. He felt his soul yearn for the boy inside. James, James that had rocked his world so, that fateful day they met at the train, and ever since. Where else would he go? He didn’t like to intrude, and he had always felt rather weird the times he had been allowed to stay at the Potters, unused to the warmth and familiarly the Potters showed James, showed him. But where else? Remus had his sickly mother, and they weren’t that kind of best friends that he could just pop along and claim Remus’ place as his own. Peter, never, too miserably, too same-same. Potter, then. And it hadn’t even been an option, a conscious decision. He had just gone there. Followed his heart. 

It was perhaps the one thing that Emmeline understood like no other; the fear that came with the loss of a person - missing or otherwise - and the need to act when Death Eaters were involved in the matter. The whole Order was a mess, really and who could blame them. Lily was and always would be an important part of it. That much the former Slytherin would have dared to admit; even out loud if ever asked. There wasn't much she'd have signed her name to but that was one of the few things of which that fact was true.

For a while she had stood by, observing. It was like watching a deer in headlights, freeze and then scurry away in a frightfully desperate attempt to escape the oncoming danger in clever ways. There wasn't much to be done as even fewer held the answers needed to help Lily. To her James appeared almost like a ghost. Was that what happened to one when their loved ones went missing? Even in the face of her own sadness, the loss of her own father Emmeline had held it together, kept her feelings locked away inside of her. To this day it seemed only Dumbeldore truly knew of them. Was this what it looked like when one let it all out?

November, 1979

Back against the bathroom door, Lily looked between the positive muggle pregnancy test she had in one hand, and the engagement ring she wore on the other. She had never felt something like this before- ever. A mixture of icy fear, anxious excited joy, and an inability to think, to process the two red lines the test had shown.

What was James going to think? She could hear him just on the other side of the house, tinkering away at something. Her feet felt like they were made of led. How could she tell him? How could she move at all?

Maybe it wouldn’t be bad? Lily reminded herself that she wasn’t the first woman to get pregnant during a war. Her hand fell against the doorknob heavily, as it her arm had been asleep. she felt dizzy. Walking down the corridor, Lily called out to James, her voice weak and thin despite the small smile she couldn’t help. 

Demember, 1977

Somehow, inexplicably, Lily had done it. She had fallen in love with James Potter. And even more surprising was that James Potter finally believed Lily’s feelings. He had accepted her suggestion of accompanying her on a date after an entire month of trying to get him to accept her.

It wasn’t that Lily thought so much of herself that she could have anyone she chose. It was just that James had made a fool of himself in affection for her for years up until recently- so it had stung when she’d realized that she might have been too late.

St. Mungos

It felt like the center of Lily’s chest had become a pit of fire whiskey. If it was possible to go literally blind from rage, this would have been the occasion. What had James been thinking? What had her golden hearted, jovial, witty, quick, idiotic, hot headed, ridiculous husband been thinking? There was still ash falling from her hair as she leapt from the fireplace at St. Mungos and quickly walked over to the Welcome Wix. 

“James Potter’s room, please.” Lily said, one eyebrow raised high. 

The Welcome Wix seemed unphased by her disposition, and quickly referenced their parchment before giving Lily the directions to James’ floor and room. Lily briefly wondered how many others had asked them for directions, before tearing off to berate their partners. 

It felt nauseating and unsettling to be away from James, knowing that he’d been hurt. At the same time, Lily was only just keeping her emotions in check, and seeing him might undo her composure. As Lily made her way up to James’ floor, she could feel her skin tingle as if numb, her eyes stung and her throat felt tight. Looking at her reflection against a window, she noticed how high and tense her shoulders were, but didn’t try to correct her posture-it was what it was, and Lily was upset. 

As she found her way in the same corridor as James’ room, Lily’s pace quickened. Even though she walked faster, her mind felt in slow motion, as she had to actively resist noticing the scent of the hospital, how it begged to stir the memories of her parent’s accident. Lily squeezed her eyes shut, forbidding the memories from fully realizing in her thoughts. Her hand was against the doorknob to James’ room- deep breath. 

She couldn’t avoid him seeing her own busted lower lip or the bruise that had bloomed near her left eye, but James wouldn’t see those memories in her face, or the fear that had bent her brow from the moment she’d learned he was injured. Lily didn’t want to admit it to herself, but it was easier to be angry. 

Pushing open the door, Lily walked into the room with light steps. At the sight of him, Lily felt light headed and her heart skipped several beats. She stopped at the side of his bed, tilting her head slightly as she looked into his face and leveled him with a heavy gaze.Oh she could feel it already, her body tensed as her impulse to yell fought against her impulse to burst into tears. 

“Hello there.” she said, brows raised, her tone coy and low. 

St. Mungo’s Hopsital

Mid January

As soon as the mediwix were done with their initial care, Lily had asked for two things: James, and three extra pillows. She didn’t really have any thought towards food, water or rest- but she desperately wished for her husband to appear, and three pillows. It was nice to be in a bed, but it wasn’t nearly as nice as fighting over what mattress space there was with the worst blanket hog she’d ever known.

And while the staff didn’t have any James Potters on reserve, they luckily were able to comply with the second wish, and now Lily had arranged her three new pillows along side her, hugging the one closest to her, burying her face into its side. All she had to do was try and not think about the strange, sterile hospital smell she couldn’t get away from.

The rest was done, they had filled Lily up with enough potions to make a hippogriff relax. Even when she could hear footsteps walk by, all she did was flinch. Lily breathed a deep sigh, feeling her eyelids grow heavy.