K, so I haven't done any James/Lily in a long long time, and this is definitely not conventional Jamily anyway, so we'll just see how you like it. It's a bit AU I guess, with alcoholic!James and Lily. It's something new, give it a shot. Enjoy!

Lily Evans sat at the bar in the Three Broomsticks, downing shot after shot. By this point she had forgotten what she was drinking, only she knew it wasn't quite firewhiskey. Not yet.

She couldn't take much more, not much more of this. Her perfect life was shattered in shambles at her feet.

Her parents, dead. Murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lily herself had barely gotten out alive.

That was last summer, the summer before seventh year. Petunia disowned her – blaming her for the death of their parents. Lily had come back to Hogwarts, hating herself just for herself, for who she was. She came back to Hogwarts in piece, and hoping for one solace: her boyfriend, Danny.

She'd lost all her friends because of Danny. Back when they first started dating, everything was fine until Lily slowly started letting all her friends go, until she only had Danny.

And then Danny turned violent. Lily didn't know what to do about it. So she let him – she let him beat her down until there was almost nothing of Lily left.

She eventually got away. But when she got away, she found there was absolutely nowhere to go.

She went to the one place where she thought she'd find comfort: alcohol. She didn't start with much – a sip or two stolen from the kitchens. But the amounts she took grew and grew until she had to come to the Three Broomsticks to get enough.

Her grades slipped, she was losing too much weight, and her once-sparkling eyes looked out from the deep parts of their dark sockets. She'd wake up hung over and she was followed by pitying eyes wherever she went. But she still went back every night, back to the alcohol.

"Need more?" Karl, the bartender asked. Karl knew Lily from when she was a third year, and Lily trusted him not to disclose how much she drank every night.

"Firewhisky," she says, her 'r' just the slightest bit slurred.

"You're underage, Lily," Karl reminds gently.

"I don't give a – just listen to me Karl. Give it to me. I've ruined my life and now I'm going to complete my ruin by drinking myself into the grave."

Karl doesn't reply, only passes a tiny glass to Lily.

"Firewhisky," another voice says, slumping down in the bar stool next to Lily.

Lily doesn't even care who's next to her. She just downs her firewhisky.

It burns inside her and for a few blissful seconds she can forget about her troubles.

"First time?" the voice next to her says – it's more of a statement than a question.

Lily turns, only to see James Potter.

To be honest, she had forgotten that he existed.

After fifth year, after the incident with Snape by the lake, James stopped talking to her. He stopped annoying the heck out of her. In fact, she hadn't given much of a thought to him since then.

"How did you know?" she asks, gesturing at Karl to bring her another.

"The way your face lit up when you drank it," he says, emptying his glass, "It's typical of newbies. After you've been going at it long enough, not even firewhisky can make you forget."

She doesn't want to think about that.

"So what are you trying to forget?" she says.

"Myself," he replies, "Who I am. The things I've done."

"And what are those things?" she asks, looking him dead in the eyes, lifeless green on empty hazel.

"You'll think it's stupid," he mutters, going back to his drink.

"Try me."

"There's a girl," he says, not looking up, "And she's destroying herself. I've loved her for a while now – but I didn't want her to know. You probably know I've dated most of the girls in this school. And I broke every one of their perfectly good hearts, and I knew I was going to do it too. I feel like I've got blood on my hands."

"You don't know the meaning of having blood on your hands," she whispers.

"Try me."

"My parents are dead because I am a witch," she says, "I killed them. It's all my fault. And I pushed away all my friends for my stupid excuse for a boyfriend only to have him turn abusive on me. And then I got away, but I almost didn't want too…and now, there's nothing of me left. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing or where I'm going – I'm not sure about anything anymore."

She can't believe she's telling all this to him, but the firewhiskey has loosened her lips and she's careless now. It's not like she's got anything left to lose.

"I am," he says, the tiniest bit of life flashing in the back of his eyes as he looks at her, and suddenly, he's pushing her matted hair behind her ear, and searching her dead eyes, "Because you, Lily Evans, are the girl. And you've always been her. And do you know half of what's killing me? Watching you killing yourself."

"So I guess we're both dead inside," she says, and already she can tell that the firewhiskey isn't lighting her up inside the way it did four – five – was it six – drinks ago.

"Not dead, Lily," he says, "Not dead. Just sleeping. Sleepwalking. And someday we'll wake up and everything will make sense again."

In the fairy tales the prince always kisses the princess and she wakes up, saved from her curse. But he's no prince and she's no princess.

They sit there in silence for another half-hour, just drinking, drinking, drinking. Because somehow inside they hope that if they have one more drink it'll be enough to forget.

And out of the blue, he kisses her.

And it works better than firewhiskey.

But it's like firewhiskey – it's never enough. Enough can never be enough.

"You awake?" he says gently.

"No," she says, "But I'm stirring in my sleep."

And hopefully, someday she'll wake up.

So, what did you think of that? I'm sorry that it's a bit depressing. I find that angst is kinda my thing - I love writing it. So, please review and tell me what you think - give me pointers for improvement. Love always, Lily