Reconciliations Ⅲ

The sound of brisk footsteps accompanied by the rustle of a skirt breaks James out of his reverie as he turns his head towards the source. A kind, but a stern woman in her late thirties' marches firmly toward him. Her red dress, white apron, and white matron cap flutter about as she only pauses to check on a patient and double checks the sweet box next to the patient's bedside to her satisfaction.

James feels a sudden wave of dizziness come over him as he hastily shuts his eyes and breathes through his nose as bile rises in the back of his throat. His heart sounding dreadfully loud in his own ears that he almost flinches when he hears the infirmary matron say, "Well, Mr. Potter, you are in perfectly good health except for being more than a tad overwhelmed. I have a calming draught for you to take, so be a good lad, and open your eyes."

Feeling overwhelmed James has the urge to hurl when he feels a gentle touch on his hand that gently squeezes his fist. Snapping his eyes, he glances in astonishment at seeing Rowan Prince not flush nor flinch at his gaze but steadily meet his. A strange feeling of comfort and relief spreads through his chest as his body instinctively relaxes in trust.

Speechless James just blankly stares at the Slytherin until Madam Pomfrey loudly interjects, "Mr. Potter, your calming draught. I promise that it will help."

Just as suddenly that it had appeared Rowan retracts her hand as James turns away and accepts a blue liquid in a glass vial. James carefully accepts the vial, before putting it at his lips and downing it one gulp. He shudders at the taste, but it was nowhere near as bad as other potions. Though he knew that crocodile heart was one of the required ingredients, at least it tasted somewhat of lavender and peppermint to cover the awful taste.

"Do not worry, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey briskly said. "You will certainly not be the first student I will treat this year with a calming draught nor the last. O.W.L's and N.E.W.T.'s are a well-known factor to cause such severe stress. After dinner, you may return to the Gryffindor common room. However, Mr. Potter, you are to return to the infirmary each week to receive a calming draught until I believe that you are stable is that understood?"

"Yes, Po-," James automatically begins to say, before pausing. "I mean, yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"See to it that is the case, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "And I would truly hate to have to meet with your Head of House and have her enforce my order."

James mutely nods his head as Madam Pomfrey sashays away and after a patient that was trying to sneak away. "Mr. Amber's, I have told you to lie still!" Madam Pomfrey roared as she ran after the miscreant that had what looked like curled horns sprouting out of the top of his head as a result of a failed transfiguration. The seventh year in question hastily sits back down as Madam Pomfrey begins to berate him.

Rowan rises to her feet and closes the curtains around James's bed again, before sitting back down. To be frank, she had been aghast when she saw James faint. She had barely had time to catch him in her arms, before levitating him away in a hurry back to the infirmary. She had been terrified that something was dreadfully wrong with him, but thankfully, Madam Pomfrey pronounced the verdict that James was severely stressed.

Unexpectedly, Rowan had felt a trace of guilt in her heart at those words. Perhaps, she had been too hasty in judging James Potter. An even bigger streak of guilt and a touch of shame skittered around in her chest. Because for some unknown reason, she was angry with James Potter, and even more so at finding that she could still see traces of her friend, and that of a stranger.

Glancing back up at James, Rowan blinks in astonishment at finding that James is acutely studying her. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

James composes his train of thoughts, before replying, "Are you here out of guilt?"

Rowan blinks at James Potter's surprising bluntness, before letting a wry smile. "Partly," she admitted. "I have been wanting to apologize for my strong words the last time we spoke. I should not have been so callous, and hypercritical, but that being said, I do not think that I was in the wrong either for trying to defend Peter. And the other half, well, I was worried-."

Rowan hesitates for a second, before slowly adding, "And we are friends even if you can't remember, Potter."

James's expression is annoyingly blank as he does not give away his feelings nor emotions. It was a startling fact for Rowan as James usually was unable to hide his emotions so well. But then again, this was James Potter. It was a dreadful contradiction at times like these, but it was what it was.

Rising to her feet, Rowan says, "I have to go, I have Prefect duties to fulfill, but Severus will stop by in a bit along with Sirius and the rest of them."

"Right," James flatly muttered as if unsure of whether to say thank you or not in reply to the last remark.

Rowan nods her head once at him, before rising to her feet, and slipping out between the bed curtains. She paused for a moment to ensure that the bed curtains are carefully drawn his bed, before making her way out of the infirmary. She had not walked down far the corridor when a flurry of footsteps echoing down the hall caused her to stop in place.

Patiently waiting for Severus, and the rest of the marauders to arrive, Rowan ponders on the present James Potter. If she was honest with herself, a part of her seemed to dislike him, but she did not know if that was because she truly did not like him or out of her own feelings of hurt. It was not a subject she liked to contemplate about, but she could not keep shoving her emotions aside.

However, this was neither the time nor place to contemplate on such subjects. But even still, there was one thing that she was absolutely certain of. She still cared about James Potter even if he no longer did. And that was painful thing to admit in its own way.