The Marauders: Year Six Part 2 #Wattys2017

Coming To

Coming To

Bright white. The back of his eyelids were bright, brilliant white from light.

This is it, James thought. This is it. It's the proverbial white light they talk about going into when you die. I s'pose that dying wasn't so bad, then. Although, I should probably not hurt anymore. The aches should be gone. The pain should be gone.

But it was still very much real.

There were hands pressing on his back and something on his shoulder and he winced and let out a gasp as the hands on his back pushed his spine and he heard a whispered alignenius - and his spine cracked into place. He let out a sigh and sank into the pillows as the air left his lungs, half on his belly now.

There was a gentle brush of fingers across his forehead, pushing hair away.

"Evans?" he asked, and, wanting to see her again, he opened his eyes.

But it wasn't Lily Evans's green eyes that greeted him upon opening. Rather, it was dark grey-blue of Minerva McGonagall's.

"No," he choked, seeing her, "No, no... not you, too, Professor, no!" and he struggled to sit up, pain searing through his bone and muscle but he didn't care because there was no way in Hell itself that he could lie there and allow the gods to take hold of Minnie.

Firm hands pushed him back down, "You can't be sitting up! You've got to lie still, Mr. Potter!" It was Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr. Potter!" exclaimed McGonagall, and she gently put her hand on James's side and assisted Madam Pomfrey in making him lie back down again as well. "Mr. Potter! Please!" Her voice was lilting heavily and James allowed her to push him onto the pillows again. He stared up at her though, his eyes wide, the bright white light streaming in the window behind her...

But it was just that, he realized. It was just light from a window. And not that tiny rectangle of a window far up in the corner of the cell, and not the light of the sunless days of the cell - but actual beautiful sunlight, streaming in through tall, narrow stone hewn windows that stretched up into the ceiling... the vaulted ceiling of the infirmary.

His eyes searched the ceiling a moment, letting the realization process as he felt Madam Pomfrey's hands still moving over his back, her wand grazing the skin as she whispered spells to tie together torn muscles in across the span of his shoulders... and then his eyes went back to McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said quietly, "Do you know where you are, me boy?"

Tears filled his eyes.

"Ye've been rescued, Mr. Potter," McGonagall's accent rolled over her teeth and lips and she brushed his hair away again and he trembled a bit at the human contact, and she continued, "Ye're in Hogwarts, my boy... ye're safe now."

James had flinched again at her touch.

Madam Pomfrey gently reached up and gently guided James onto his back. She leaned over and there was a cotton sling magiced 'round his arm, pushing his shoulder into place with a loud popas the bones rejointed and the muscles finished their knitting from behind. "Here you are, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey's face was floating over him then, and she held up a smoking glass with a straw, which she guided to his lips, "Drink this, it will help."

James closed his lips around the straw and drew a long sip. The potion was bittersweet, and a strong almost licoricey flavor filled his mouth and he winced and drew away, shaking his head, "Oh gods," he gasped, "That tastes so ---" he paused.