Mischief Managed!

24.

Lily's head was bleeding. It throbbed painfully, and she could feel the unpleasant sensation of blood trickling down her face. Lily hoped with all her might that it was only a small wound: she had learnt in her summer internship at St Mungos' that head wounds always bled a lot.

Lily needed help. The gash felt big, much bigger than she had first anticipated. She wondered how much blood she had already lost, and also wondered whether she would be able to walk.

Bravely, Lily opened her eyes to find a disgustingly smiley boy holding a wet, cloth washer to her forehead.

"Good morning!" James said cheerfully from his perch beside her on the bed.

Lily groaned. Bugger off, Potter, she thought crossly.

"Would you like a drink?" he persisted. "Water is good for a hangover, but a pepper-up potion is better, so whichever you please!"

Lily winced. "Hangover?" she repeated.

To James, it sounded like "Hamdover."

"You – er - stole my stash of Firewhiskey," James clarified, before looking away. "From my underwear drawer."

Lily was in too much pain to properly register that last piece of information. Stowing it away for later, she decided to focus on the current problem.

"But my head-" she protested, gingerly reaching up to feel for what she imagined to be a hideous gash.

"Just a headache," James replied cheerfully. "Here, drink up and you'll feel better in no time."

Complying, Lily was amazed to discover that James actually seemed to know what he was talking about. That's a first.

"How much did I drink?" she winced, before recalling his gentle chiding earlier. "Sorry for plundering your stash."

She once again conveniently ignored the location of said stash.

James smiled, brushing it off lightly. Lily had never looked so beautiful, all tousled hair and wide, vulnerable eyes. "The alcohol doesn't matter really. I'm more concerned about you, Lily. How do you feel?"

Lily blinked. Terrible, obviously, she thought scathingly, searching for the reason she had indeed drunk so much in the first place. If she did say so herself, her behaviour seemed to have been very un-Lily-like. Was Potter sureshe'd been drinking? Unless… Hang on. That's right…

Art.

"Like a manticore has torn out my heart," she answered truthfully.

James blinked. What a strange idea. Surely Lily was much too hung over to come up with such intelligent descriptions?

"Well, it can only get better Lily," he said, uncertain as to how one comforts a heartbroken girl. Flashing her a sympathetic smile, he added, "I always thought you were too good for him anyway."

Lily's stomach clutched painfully. Determined not to think about Art, Lily rolled her eyes and focused on the boy in front of her. "Yes, but you've always thought that you and I would make a match, Potter," she replied lightly. "I mean-"

James stood up abruptly, surprised and more than a little wounded. Why was it that Lily had to be drunk to be nice to him? He thought bitterly. All he'd done was go out of his way to be nice to her, and she still insisted on being thoughtless. Obviously, contrary to her behaviour of the past few weeks and to the growing seed of hope that he had secretly fostered, Lily Evans had not warmed to him much at all.

Startled, Lily noticed the hurt in his eyes too late.

"I suppose I'll send for Emmeline, then, shall I?" he asked stiffly, and left.