I'm in a Lily and James mood at the moment . . . so this is just a oneshot I dreamed up about James comforting Lily after she and Severus end their friendship. Don't own, don't own, don't own . . .
Lily
As soon as she heard the portrait slam, she could feel the anger drain from her, leaving only despair and devastation in its place. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, back against the wall, and wrapped her arms around her knees.
She couldn't be strong anymore. It had been all she could do to stay angry – to glare and to shout – "You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine" – oh, that had hurt so much to say, but she'd had to say it. She'd had to cut the tie, and she'd had to do it with anger, because there was no other possibility anymore.
But she couldn't stay angry. Now, loss was the only thing she could feel – a loss so deep and cutting that it drained all her strength from her. All that she wanted to do was put her head in a pillow and sob until she didn't have any tears left, but she couldn't. She was too drained to cry, and too exhausted to stand. So she just sat there, dressing gown falling open, knees pressed to her chest, staring off into the distance.
The sun went down, the common room growing dark, and still she sat there. Too exhausted to move, but she couldn't fall asleep. It kept replaying in her head – "Mudblood . . . Mudblood . . . Mudblood" . . .
And then, even though it must have been the middle of the night, the corner of her eye caught a dark figure moving across the common room to sit beside her.
James
It was supposed to be a quick run down to the common room – he'd left Remus's transfiguration book there before going up to bed, and if Remus remembered it in the morning he'd be in so much trouble for forgetting it, so he'd waited until the others were asleep and snuck down. He was just going to grab the book and run back up to the dormitory, a thirty-second trip if that, but then he caught sight of the figure sitting in the corner of the room, near the portrait hole.
Who would be sitting out here in the middle of the night? Whoever it was, it wasn't any of his business, but he couldn't resist his curiosity, so he got closer – and when he saw who it was his heart flipped over, because maybe it was his business after all.
It was Lily Evans.
She was sitting, hands locked around her legs, staring off into the distance. Her face was like stone, and her green eyes were dull and lifeless.
Why would she be – oh.
Guilt rose in his stomach, guilt and sympathy and pity, because even though he had told her, even though she'd finally realized that Snape was as bad as he'd always told her, even though it hadn't been his fault – it was kind of his fault. And she'd just lost her best friend. And he owed her an apology either way.
He crossed the common room and went to sit down beside her. He didn't touch her – even James Potter knew when not to make a move – but close enough that he could hear her quiet breathing. She didn't turn around, but he knew she knew he was there.
"Potter," she said, and her voice lacked the fury he'd been expecting; instead, it was inflectionless, empty. She turned to face him, finally, and appeared to be trying to glare at him, but her face was still hollow, and there was no spark to her eyes. Finally, she turned back to facing forward.
He wished she would look angry, wished she would shout and scream. Because that's what the normal Lily Evans would do, the Lily Evans he knew, and because it would put some spark into her beautiful eyes, and because anything – even rage – was better than this empty, emotionless mask.
"Hey, Evans – Lily," he said softly, and then stopped, because he thought anything he could possibly say would only make this worse.
"Don't say I told you so," she started, and now there was emotion on her face, raw and ugly – pain. "Don't say I" – and then, without warning, she burst into tears.
It cut through him in the way nothing else could, this girl sitting on the floor, crying her heart out, and not knowing what else to do he put his arms around her, very gently, and somehow she had turned, just collapsed into him, and then she was sobbing into his shoulder, and her tears were soaking through his pajamas. He could hear gasping breaths tearing at her throat, rough, ugly sounds, and he started rubbing her back gently, soothing circles on her shoulder blades, and murmuring nonsense the way he had never done before, to anyone, but somehow it just seemed like the right thing to do.
Normally, he realized absently, he would be delighted by this feeling – touching Lily Evans, holding her, with her leaning against him – but this wasn't normally, and right now the only important thing for him was that she feel better.
Eventually, the tears slowed, but she was still gasping, hyperventilating, and choking out unintelligible words. He started getting worried, and he tried to pull away to look at her, but she held him tighter and kept sucking in air with that awful noise.
"Lily," he said, and then again, louder. "Lily, Lily. Lily!"
Her breath slowed finally, still hitching and breaking, but no longer with that desperate, raw sound, and she pulled away from him. Her face was red, puffy, and glazed with tears, the emerald eyes slits, and her hair in knots, but she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
"You okay, Lily?" he asked.
She sniffed and wiped her hand across her eyes, blinking. "Yeah," she croaked. "I'm all right." But she didn't move.
"I'm sorry."
He could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth, could barely believe he'd said them, but as he looked at her face he could tell it was the right thing to say.
"Why are you sorry?" she asked, voice still hoarse, and barely there. "You told me everything about what he was. I didn't believe you, but there it is. Why aren't you being typical James Potter and saying 'I told you so'?"
"Because," he said carefully, "because no matter what I may or may not have told you, it doesn't change the fact that you've just lost a friend. And that I had a hand in it. And I feel a little bit guilty about it, but mostly I'm just sorry you had to go through that."
She let out one last shaky breath. "It's okay," she said. "I mean, the bullying, that's not. It never has been okay. But it's not your fault that Severus said what he did. It's been coming on for awhile. I guess I just didn't want to see it."
"Still," he said, "I'm sorry."
"Well, then," she said, "thank you." She paused, and then said, "And thank you for what you just did, too. I didn't know I needed someone, but I did. Thank you for being there."
He knew it sounded awful, sounded cheesy, but he had to say it. "I will always be there for you, Lily."
She smiled them – a weak, watery smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Do you mind leaving now? I'd like to be alone for a little while."
He hesitated. She couldn't sit here alone all night. "Will you go up to your dormitory soon?"
"I will," she said, "I promise."
"All right," he said. "I'll just grab Remus's book and be on my way then. Night, Lily."
As he started to get up, she reached over and touched his arm – just a light brush, barely there, but there all the same. "Good night," she paused, "James."