❝ he and i are closer than friends, we are enemies linked together, the same sin binds us ❞ | in which lilium snape is bound to harry potter by fate, destined to stand on either side of a war that will soon be waged. she is cursed by prophecy, or so...
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ACT FOUR, chapter sixty—eight : lover, hunter, friend, and enemy you will always be every one of these nothing's fair in love and war
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Dobby was dead, and now Lili might be too.
The body of the girl he loved was splayed out on the kitchen table at Shell Cottage.
They'd rushed her into the cottage as soon as possible, plying her with all the healing spells and potions they knew and had, but in the process, they'd just managed to reopen her old wounds and start her bleeding again. Lili's entire body was shaking, sweating, feverish and sick. She was pale, like the underbelly of a fish, and wheezing like a beached one at that. Each breath came out too slow, lips shuddering with occasional whimpers and soft pleas for Snape, for Harry...
"Help me, please..." She whispered, "Please, help me..."
Lili refused to wake, no matter what they did, and thinking that she was trapped in her mind where only nightmares and memories awaited her, Harry couldn't stand it. He was a livewire of nervous energy, pacing rapidly back and forth beside the table, eyes never leaving her body. Standing here, watching, feeling uselessly, Harry realised that after all that they had gone through and after everything that she had endured, Lili might not even survive... It was so terrible, so sickening, that he almost wanted to die with the horror of it.
"Ugh, zis eez not strong enough, none of et!" Fleur cried from her spot by the table, "'Arry, hold 'er hand, she needs you."
Harry rushed to obey, interlocking their fingers and gripping her tight. He crouched down and pressed his forehead against her temple, whispering in her ear, "Stay with me, Lil, just hold on. Just keep fighting, just don't leave..."
Harry hadn't cried since Dumbledore died, since Snape betrayed them and Lili was stolen away from him, but he cried here and now. His green eyes welled with desperate tears, lying his trembling hand on her shuddering chest, feeling her weak heart beat against his fingertips.
"Fleur?" Bill asked from over his shoulder, his deeply scarred face creased with concern.
The silver—haired woman shook her head, "She eez fading quick, I..."
"She's dying!" Ron burst out, his panic as potent as Harry's own, "We've got to get her a real healer!"
"It needs to be someone we can trust," Still recovering herself, Hermione was desperately making use of the little remaining Healing Potions they had left. "Madam Pomfrey?"
"We can't get to her," Ron grumbled bitterly, "Not right out from under Snape's big nose."
Hermione shot him a disapproving glance while Harry bit his tongue.
