A/N: I expect a bit of indignance regarding how I present James and his bullying incidents. I'm not trying to excuse him but honestly, I do think he was a good person. He knew the basics of right and wrong, he was just a mixed up arrogant arsehole at 15. He realised in the end. Anyhoo.

Please enjoy and read and review :) xx

Young

James didn't think it would be this hard.

When he left school, he was initially hesitant about signing up for the Order. He knew he wanted to fight, he was sure of it. But it felt a bit weird to be 17 and signing up for a secret order that would almost definitely guarantee your death. He was 17. Just a boy.

This fact became much more apparent as time progressed- as the war progressed. In the midst of battle, you'd see men go down- men who were far more experienced and more wise than you could ever hope to be. You'd see women fall who were far better people, far better fighters and you'd stand there, wondering why on earth you were still standing because you're so bloody young. You're a baby brandishing a stick. You didn't use to be, you used to be the most talented, the most able. You used to be cocky and reckless because you know out of everyone you knew you were the best. Maybe except your parents. But they're dead now and you're out of your depth. You're so very young.

The first time James killed someone marked one of the worst days of his life. Bleeding from a horrible gash in his head, his clothes singed and hanging off him, he was at the end of his tether. He had no clue where Lily was, at least two of the Marauders were unconscious and being dragged off to Merlin knows where, and there was every chance that he might die if reinforcements didn't turn up soon. He was heavily outnumbered. It was taking everything he had to continue fighting and his opponents knew it. He began to falter but then, and he would always thank the heavens for this, reinforcements came. James swears there was some kind of divine music playing at the time, but Lily insists this is hyperbole on his part due to his dramatic Gryffindor nature. There was no divine music- is there ever? But it didn't really need any. James was relieved. They could win now. He could find Lily. And the Marauders. It could be fine again. Just as he took a deep breath of exhaustion, relief and every other feeling coursing through his worn body, instinct took over. He whirled around and his assailant raised his wand, as if in slow motion, the word Avada already half out of his mouth. James responded with the only thing that came to mind. He watched as his opponent fell to the floor, crumpling, eyes wide.

James stops. Everything becomes muffled and though he is vaguely aware of everything going on around him, he cannot move. He cannot carry on. He's an 18 year old killer. Whoa, I feel dizzy.

He stumbles backwards but manages to remain standing. He takes a deep breath but Jesus fucking Christ he has just killed another human being. A misguided one who was admittedly going to kill him but even so, he is the reason that man is dead. James Potter, 18 and taking a man's life.

Deep breaths don't cut it anymore and he staggers to the side of the road (not knowing really why he's bothering, everything's debris now anyway) and proceeds to be sick. Violently so. He shakily props himself up with one arm braced against the wall. He is bent double and at one point, he's genuinely not sure if he can keep himself from toppling into the sick. And that's when he hears the divine music again.

"James!"

Lily runs to him, throwing herself at his side, arms around his shoulder. "James! Are you okay?"

He can't stop being sick to tell her and so instead, he just falls to his knees, which he thinks is a rather apt response.

Lily kneels next to him, rubbing his back and calling for help, which he waves away. He's okay, he's fine. Just killed a man, all in a day's work.

The thought makes him want to vomit more.

Finally, he stops. He shakily wipes his mouth and falls back into Lily's waiting arms. He grips her arm tightly as she wraps herself around him. He wants to cry but he can't. He killed someone, how can he possibly cry about that. He's probably a man now.

Lily holds him, shushes him, murmurs comforting words all whilst stroking his hair and holding him as tightly as she can. She's worried, she's never seen him like this before. And he's hurt. She needs to get him looked at and she will but right now, she needs to hold him. She's so glad he's alive and real and that even though he's broken, broken is better than dead. Broken she can fix. He's real and tangible and she can grasp him. That's all that matters.

Moody comes over, gruff and business-like. It's been a day of heavy casualties, he has to be like this. Detached. He pats Lily on the shoulder and tactfully ignores the almost-catatonic mess in her arms. He tells her that apparition is possible now, she should take him and get checked out herself. She nods and supports James into a standing position, taking him by side-along to St Mungo's. He is whisked out of her arms immediately, pushed down onto a bed, which he manages to vomit all down the side of in order to avoid being sick on himself. Lily steps forward to help, but is led away by another healer and instead James is forcefully given a kidney dish.

Despite her many protests, Lily does not see James for hours. She can hear the nurses talk about him though and it does not comfort her. He's apparently stopped being sick but it's worse. He's just matter-of-fact. James is never matter-of-fact after a fight. He always feels like shit, always gets angry and later afterwards, he almost always goes out of his way to be cheery (which has led to many disasters, Lily can tell you.) It's his thing.

Finally, she's allowed to see him and he's asleep. He looks peaceful. Pale, incredibly so in fact, but peaceful nonetheless. The other Marauders have popped in, though Sirius is the only one who has stayed. Moody has the others on clean-up duty, as it is so tactfully called. Five people out of it are too many, though he can see the dilemma. Potter isn't himself and he'll need his friends. So Sirius and Lily stay by his side, a little on the edge of becoming frantic but attempting to stay calm in case James wakes.

He does, but not in the way one might hope. He tosses and turns and Lily reaches out to calm him. She grabs his hand and he sits up, calling out. He pants and she's desperately saying his name, over and over again, trying to comfort him.

"It's okay, look at me, James, look at me. You're alright." She climbs up onto his bed, her hands on his face, watching as its terrified expression becomes blank again.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He says, shaking his head, removing her hands from his face. "I'm sorry." He shifts away from Lily and reaches for his glasses. Placing them on his face, he gets out of bed. He stumbles, he's still a little weak and dizzy from his injuries but he goes to the bathroom and pats water onto his face. He needs to calm down. He's got to get a grip. He knew this day would happen, he expected it. But being prepared for killing and actually killing were two very different things. He just felt sick all the time. As if this constant aching in his stomach could ever be penance. He rubs his forehead with a shaking hand.

Sirius knocks at the bathroom door and James opens it.

Sirius pushed him back inside and snapped the door shut.

"Lily sent me." He says simply. "But I would've come anyway. We're worried about you."

James swallows and waves the sentiment away. "Don't bother, I'm-"

"Nope, not going to work, mate. I'm a Marauder and she's Lily Evans. It'd be a pretty bad day if we weren't on to you, wouldn't it? We're persistent and thorough, and observant come to think of it, if nothing else. We know you and we bloody know you're not fine."

James is speechless. He shakes his head and shrugs.

"I'll be fine though. It's just been a tough day."

"You killed that Death Eater, didn't you?" Sirius is abrupt, but he always has been. Feeling pain for Sirius is like ripping off a plaster. It has to be done quickly. "The one Moody mentioned attacking you?"

James looks up at his friend in shock, unable to say a word. He opens his mouth and closes it before sitting down on the closed seat of the toilet and nodding.

"Prongs...you do know you're the fucking best man I know right?"

James stares at the tiled floor.

Sirius pushes his shoulder. "No. James, I mean it. You're the best person I have ever known. You saved Snape when I was too much of a total arse to realise what I was doing, remember? I do. Worst night of my life, save the time I ran away. But that's another thing, you took me in that night as well. You always save my hide, as well as everyone else's. If you killed that bloke, I have every faith in you that he was a prick. And that you only did what was right."

James looks up at him, pale and imploring. "What if it wasn't right? I killed him, Sirius. He's dead because of me. I used magic to cause his death. I'm as bad as one of them."

"It was self-defence you prat." When James looks up questioningly, Sirius continues, "I know because Merlin, Prongs, look at you. You couldn't kill someone in cold blood. And you were battered. You acted on instinct. It's natural. You'll never be as bad as one of them because you'll never kill someone if you could help it. You did what you had to do to stop him killing you. It's war; this is what it means."

James nods, his face blank. He stands and propels himself into Sirius, hugging him tightly. He said nothing but Sirius understood. He'd got through to him. He wasn't a bad person. He was an unfortunate one. He was a boy caught up in a man's war. No-one was ready for this, least of all a boy who was fresh out of school, fresh out of his parent's home. Sirius had always been a bit different when it came to this stuff and he knew James would not find it easy. He was so inherently good it almost hurt. Everything he did was good, at the root of the intention. Bullying Snape had been a pretty bad thing, but really, it was just to cheer Sirius up and get Lily. And really, Snape did give as good as he got. As bad as things had been then, James was still good, deep down. And when he matured, and that goodness came to the surface, Lily loved him. What Sirius had always seen, she now saw herself. James needed to know that, right now, now that he had taken the life of another man, that he was a good man. That he wasn't a killer. He still felt sick but less so and he thanked Sirius so much.

Sirius pushes him off and claps him on the back. "Any time," he says. "Now go and talk to Lily, not of all of us have had as much sleep as you." He winks and says his goodbyes, knowing that, with Lily by his side, James will be okay. He'll come back tomorrow though, just in case.

Dazedly, James walks back to his bed, sitting on it. He looks down at the floor, hands grasping the bed for dear life.

Lily approaches him apprehensively.

"James? Did you have a good talk with Sirius?"

He looks up at her and he can't answer. She looks at him with such worry upon her beautiful face; it's so abundantly clear that she loves him. This exceptionally gifted and kind girl loves him and he wanted so much to be a good man, and-

All of his feelings well up and come tumbling out. His face crumples and he holds a hand to his face as he starts to cry. Lily pulls him to her chest, where he sobs, unrestrainedly, comforted at least by her soft murmurs.

"It's okay, you'll be okay..."

Slowly but surely, he quietens. She strokes his hair and his arm gently, soothing him as best she can. He straightens up, removing his glasses and wiping a shaky hand down his face.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "I love you, James."

He nods, leaning down to kiss her back, weaving his hand into her hair. "You too." He releases her and sinks back into his pillows, curling up in his bed. "Stay with me?" he asks, a little too childishly he thought. He winces.

Lily swallows and licks her lip, nodding tentatively. She clambers onto the bed and curls up with him, his arm around her waist. She closes her eyes and for that second, they were just a girl and a boy, sharing a loving embrace.

But it was hard to forget this day, and James would rarely consider himself to be a boy again. It happened the time Lily told him she was pregnant. After all, 20 is a young age to become a father, let alone one who fights a war for a living.

But it often took a lot of reminding in those later years of the war; people forgot just how young they were, even the youngsters themselves. Because, in many ways, though they appeared to be fighters, strong and unyielding, they really were just boys and girls. All they really were was young.