Chosen?

Chapter 23: St. Mungo's

James's eyes locked with mine as he jogged beside the bed, his hand gripping tightly onto mine. He was protective and courageous, but also kind and incredible influenced by my tears. As a kid, when I would cry, James always knew exactly what to do to make the tears stop. He had some sort of sixth sense that would go off in his head whenever I was in trouble or needed help, and when he got there everything would be okay again. James made every bad thing that ever happened to me disappear. 

James couldn't make this disappear. James couldn't make the large, bleeding hole in my right side disappear. He couldn't make the pain go away, he couldn't turn back time and prevent me from apparating as quickly as I did, he couldn't do anything to make it disappear. I looked into James's eyes, the look on his face was much paler than usual. It looked as if he knew he couldn't do anything, but his mind was clearly working to find a way to make it all go away. 

The scorching hot pain in my side came into a sharp focus as more tears spilled down my cheeks, "Make it stop, James! Please make it stop!" I knew that he couldn't do anything, but the words fell out of my mouth, I guess by bad habit. 

James looked away from me and settled his gaze on the male healer that was walking behind the enchanted bed, "You," his voice was stern, "Do something! There has to be something! I know there is something else that you can give her!"

The healer looked up from the pieces of parchment that he held in his hand, "Mr.  Potter, I'm afraid that there isn't something. If we could we'd try both Dittany and Murtlap, but your sister is highly allergic to both, as you stated before." He turned his attention back to the parchment as my attention turned back to the pain.

I tried to readjust my positioning on the bed as if that would help. I arched my back and blood began to pool under my lifted torso. James looked at me quickly then looked back at the healer, "Then find something else!" 

When we entered the room, the curtains were drawn close, but a nurse who must have been following the healer quickly opened them letting the sunlight flood the room. My back was aching and I felt incredibly dizzy. My hand gripping tighter to James's, I leaned over the side opposite him and promptly vomited. My side burned with every move I made which only made nausea worse and more often. 

Albus entered the room and rushed to the other side of the bed where a large puddle of vomit now laid. He quickly pulled the hair that had fallen out of my braid and stuck to my face and neck with sweat up into a ponytail and held it there. Albus silently conjured a small bucket and held it in front of me, which I quickly vomited in. Albus turned his gaze to James as he continued to hold both my hair and the bucket. "Can they give her anything?" he voice was low and soothing and made me feel a little bit better about everything. 

As I continued to get sick, my mother entered the room. I could hear my mother enter the room. I turned from my side to my back as she walked up to the head of the bed. Her hands were cold as she rested them on my cheeks and stared down at me. I have no idea why I started crying harder, but I did. Maybe the reaction to my mother's touch? Maybe the guilt I felt for running away from home? 

My mother smiled and used her thumbs to wipe the tears away. "Make it go away, please mum," I said softly as I looked up into her big, brown eyes.

She leaned down and kissed my forehead, "Shh.. don't think about that anymore," I didn't know what else to think about, "DO you remember when your father and I took you to your very first Quidditch game?" I nodded, memories of that day flooding my mind.

My mother smiled softly, "Remember how you tried to take the broom from the Cannon's seeker to catch the snitch yourself?" I laughed quietly and nodded.

"James had to hold me back," I said softly as I felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of my forehead. 

James chuckled, "Remember when you caught your first snitch?" I turned my gaze to James.