Who: James Sirius Potter (and anyone who witnesses and would like to react) What: Jamie's Death Where: Outside the castle When: Day 4. Rating: PG-13?
There may be minor changes to this after the thread with Victoire is complete, but nothing dramatic :)
He hurt.
But at the same time James wasn't entirely sure he was feeling anything at all. His thoughts were jumbled, fading in and out of memories that made it hard to distinguish past from present.
Stumbling slightly on his way up to the sorting hat and shooting an 'I totally did that on purpose' grin to the chuckling crowd.
Bolting up the steps of the castle toward the sounds of the screams.
Frowning over at the baby brother that wasn't nearly interested enough in joining in on his mayhem.
Thanking every higher power he could think of that his siblings weren't in the castle with him.
Getting socked in the nose by Rebecca for reasons he would never understand.
His wand out. Ready. The curse flying before he even felt himself consciously deciding which one to cast.
Kissing Autumn against the wall in her cottage.
Narrowly missing the creature's blade.
Meeting his paternal grandparents for the first time.
Screaming at his cousin to run.
Coloring with Po. Grinning at her misspellings.
Watching Kitty and Victoire run past.
Quidditch camp. In the pouring rain. The soreness of his arms and back that followed the next day a sure sign of his hard work.
A sharp pain in his chest.
So sharp that he suddenly realized he was back in the present again as a soft groan escaped him.
He felt light-headed. Not quite drunk, but not nearly as present as he should have been. Adrenaline and plain old stubbornness, he supposed, had gotten him out of the castle alive. But it couldn't keep him going forever. He had slid into a sitting position, back resting on a wall of a building- he wasn't sure which one at this point, but he was grateful for the support.
A painful cough had a strained arm reaching up to his mouth. Frowning and glancing down, James recognized his own blood smeared on his palm, even with his vision blurring like it was. Well, that was never good, now was it?
He could hear a voice, but it sounded far away, a distant echo.
"Al?" his voice came out cracked, and his throat felt raw as he let his head loll toward the side he thought he had heard it from. Jamie let out a soft chuckle, though he didn't know why he thought it was funny. "He's not here. Good." Who was he talking to? Had he even heard a voice at all? He supposed you were entitled to going a little mad when you were-
Dying?
He hadn't really admitted it to himself until now. But what sense was there in pretending? He was bleeding all over the ground, only slightly improved from his feeble attempt at a healing spell (he had never been good at them). He was drifting in and out of consciousness. His limbs felt heavy, like he was starting to lose control over them- from blood loss, maybe- he didn't know enough about it, really.
This was what dying felt like? He'd always expected something with more gusto. Dying in the heat of the battle, not after it. Nobody told the stories about the hero who died after battle, the one who bled out alone.
Still. At least it had been worth it. He always wondered at the sacrifices some people made, people like his dad in the war. He had always wondered if he would make the choices he wanted himself to make. But he had. A weak smile tugged at his lips. He hadn't let himself down. He had saved them, and it had been worth it. Worth this. Two lives for the price of one. And there had been others. It was a fair trade if you thought about it.
His eyelids were drooping. He was tired. Who knew getting slashed by evil skeleton men could be so exhausting? Another pathetic laugh escaped him. Still cracking jokes on his death bed. Well, death wall, he supposed. Bah dum tss.
His eyes were drooping again. Was that how it happened? You just fell asleep and it was over? Just like that? It didn't sound so bad. It didn't seem so scary.
"Wait," he grunted, limbs struggling to drag out a very dirty, frayed journal from his jacket pocket. The pen tucked in its pages was cracked and leaking, but he flipped to a random open page.
It took an embarrassingly long time, but the words were finally there, his last note to family and friends. He let out a pained sigh as he leaned back against the wall, lips quirking up in one last smile. "Okay." The faces of family and friends drifted through his vision, smiling down at him: his father of his proper age, hair messy of course, his mother nodding proudly at his side, a younger version of Albus waving from behind them, and Lilu was there, holding Polaris' hand, shaking her head as she always did when he caused a ruckus. Autumn smiled in that little black dress as promised. Remus grinned. His grandparents. His cousins. His aunts and uncles.
"Okay," he repeated, letting his head rest back against the wall as his eyes slid closed and he let himself give fall into the calm of the blackness.
The pen slipped from his hand to fall on the open journal page where his final words were written: