The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

Giraffes

James woke quite suddenly with a sharp inhale, panic set through his veins like electricity popping and crackling in every nerve. Tears streaked from the corners of his eyes and he clutched the bedsheets in tightened knuckles, laying very still, even as his heart raced madly in his chest, trying not to wake Lily. He reached up and touched his face, sure he would feel blood on his mouth, sure the skin would be tender to touch with bruises, sure his nose would still be broken... But everything was quite whole and in place, and his hand met smooth, albeit a bit naturally oily, skin. His cheeks were tear stained, but not bloodied or bruised.

He could still feel muscles in his body twitching from the memory of the phantom cruciatus circulating through his body. A flicker of a muscle in his just above his right elbow, one at his left hip, another in his calf, the left side of his chin... just a twitch.

It had been a year and a half and he could still feel it as plainly as if he were in the breaks between sessions.

He closed his eyes.

Mistake. Big mistake.

The moment they were shut, a flash of Voldemort's pale, structured face filled James's mental vision. The cold eyes, lips pulled back into a horrific smile, a smile of pure self satisfying pleasure-fulfillment... Torturing James Potter had pleased Voldemort more than anything else, and it had been enjoyment that had kept Voldemort coming back to torture him. It was fun, a sport... Like a small child, playing with a toy... Something to be obsessed about, looking forward to doing... Something one could not wait to return to after a time of doing something else. "At last," and the smile would break out as laughter fell from his mouth, as the curse tore apart James's sanity and resolve, as his breath came in frantic gasps... Voldemort's eyes gleamed with joy.

"What a lark, isn't it?" Voldemort's voice whispered, mocking and low in James's ear, so close it didn't feel like a memory. "Does it hurt? Does it burn? I remember what it feels like, don't you worry, it won't hurt much longer... That's what they told me anyway. Maybe you'll be luckier than I was, hmm?" And he would release the spell and cackle evilly, so that his laugh echoed from every corner of the room, every corner of James's mind, punctuated by the crackling electricity in his body....

James opened his eyes again.

Still laying in bed, his body still twitching, his breathing still sharp like one word sentences that he. could. barely. get. out.

Lily was so close to him, yet seemed so far away, and she slept so peacefully. He turned his head and looked at her, the moonlight on her through the window and the firelight from the hearth glowing. Her hair hung into her face and he reached over and carefully swept it back so he could see her features. 

"This is the stuff I don't want you to feel, Evans," he whispered to her closed-eyes and peaceful face, her cheeks flushed, eyelashes long.

God, how he loved her. 

Staring at her, he realized that her sleeping face had banished the ghost that had haunted him away and he nestled his head softer into the pillow, just watching her sleep and appreciating that she was there, so close to him, remembering the expressions on her face when she was awake and the way laugher danced on her cheeks as much as in her eyes. 

"How the bloody hell did I get so lucky, huh?" he whispered to her, and he gently brushed her cheek with just the very tips of his knuckles, then drew his hand back, sliding it across the sheets to find her hand and lacing their fingers together. He drew a deep breath and rolled onto his back, keeping her hand in his, and looking up to the ceiling again, his breath finally coming out normal and his heart rate slowing as he thought of her and how much he loved her.