The minutes were passing like hours, and the hours passing like days as the five of them were in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital.
James was sitting on a chair, his gaze fixed on nowhere, looking petrified. He hadn't uttered a single word since they had brought Fleamont to the hospital and the healers took him in, asking the rest of them to wait in the hall.
Euphemia was quite motionless, the only sign of life being her tears falling down her cheeks. In the nineteen years of knowing her, James and Jenna had rarely seen her cry before, and never to this extent.
Jenna kept pacing the length of the hall, not even stopping to take a breath. Sirius had tried to talk to her, to comfort her, but it was as if she couldn't even hear him.
Lily excused herself to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, not wanting James to see her cry, because she thought that she had to at least try to look strong for his sake.
But finally, after long hours of waiting, they all jumped to their feet and turned around as the healer came out of the room Fleamont was in.
"Well?" James asked him urgently.
But they didn't have to wait for the healer to say the words, because from his expression, they could tell that he wasn't bearing good news.
"I'm afraid," he started, looking around at them, "Mr. Potter has been diagnosed with Dragon Pox."
"D-dragon Pox?" Jenna repeated, her face going pale.
"Will he get better?" James asked unsurely.
"We can't promise anything. We'll just have to wait and see what happens," said the healer. "I'm surprised that you hadn't noticed the symptoms. From what we gathered, it's been going on for a long time; from the feeling of fatigue, fevers, eating and sleeping disorders, to green rashes across his chest."
"We did notice them, we both had them," said Euphemia, her eyes still red, "but we just assumed it was out of the exhaustion of overworking."
"Hang on," said James, turning to face his mother, "you both had the symptoms?"
Everyone turned their gaze on her at those words, falling silent.
"Mrs. Potter, have you had any feeling of itching lately?" the healer asked.
"I — no — well, maybe a little behind my shoulder — but it's probably nothing —"
"Yes, hopefully it is nothing," the Healer nodded, "but perhaps it would be best if we had you checked up. This disease is quiet common in witches and wizards over sixty."
After Euphemia nodded, the healer called another man that could lead her to another room.
"Mum —" James was saying, but Euphemia cut him off as she placed a soft hand on his cheek.
"I'll be fine." She smiled. "Don't worry about me, Jamesie boy."
She then ran her hand through his messy jet-black hair as a last hopeless effort to make it tidier, but when it made no difference, she sighed and followed the healer away.
Everyone was frozen on their spot, not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to react. Everything had happened so fast that they still hadn't gotten a hold of it all.
But just then, they were all snapped back to reality when Jenna started walking toward the room in which Fleamont was.
"Jenna, where are you going?" Sirius called after her.
"To see my dad," she said firmly, not even bothering to stop walking.
"Miss Potter! You can't go in there!" said the healer, urgently rushing toward Jenna and blocking her way just before she was going to touch the doorknob.
"And why not?" Jenna asked, her hair turning red as she glared up at him.
"Mr. Potter isn't in a good state. We cannot allow visitors in."
But in a quick motion, Jenna drew out her wand, pointing it up at the man warningly. "Step aside."
"Jenna —" Sirius ran forward to take a hold of her arm and to lower it, but she only pushed him away. But just before she was to burst into tears, Jenna ran out of the hall.
She sat in a corner on the first floor, holding herself back from crying as she stared into nowhere, her heart beating rapidly.
"Hey, J.P." Her head snapped up when James called her.
Jenna saw him approaching her with a miserable expression on his face, yet he was trying to smile down at her.
"Is that seat taken?" James asked, pointing at the one next to her.
"Yes." Jenna mumbled, looking away.
"By who?"
"Someone that will leave me alone."
James chuckled lightly, but sat down next to his sister either way, holding onto her hand as he did so.
"I know how you're feeling," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "But... we just have to be hopeful. That's all we can do at the moment."
"I don't want to give myself false hope," Jenna muttered, avoiding his eyes as she stared down. She then sighed miserably, closing her eyes. "I just — I don't know what we're going to do without them if anything happens to them."
"Hey, they're strong enough to fight this!" said James firmly, finally succeeding in getting her to look up at him. "Besides... like Dad said, they're only twenty-five years old. That's a good point."
Jenna couldn't help but laugh at that, but it soon faded as her heart lurched painfully when she thought about her father.
"And even if something happens," James started, smiling down at his sister, "we'll always have each other."