" Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end"
You call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?" Lily watched him struggle to find words to back up his unforgivable actions for a moment before she turned and stormed back into the common room. It was completely empty, save a boy with messy black hair. She sighed.
"What do you want, Potter?" Lily was exasperated enough without having to listen to him.
"I wanted to apologize."
The comment stopped her in her dead in her tracks. Never had she heard James Potter apologize for anything. He continued, ignoring the look of surprise etched across Lily's face.
"I shouldn't have done that to Snape. If I hadn't, he would never have said that to you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Lily realized quite suddenly that he was right: It was his fault that she'd lost her best friend today! She opened her mouth to yell at him, but before she could say anything, Sev's voice floated through her mind.
"I don't need help from a Mudblood like her." The enormity of what had happened that day washed over her. It wasn't James' fault. Severus would have called her Mudblood eventually. She was only kidding herself that she was any different from all the others in his eyes. He had betrayed her trust in him, but it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. To her horror, she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Now it was James' turn to look surprised. He had expected her to get angry, to yell, maybe even hex him. But not cry. He never expected her to cry.
"Evans, what's wrong?" he asked gently. She crossed her arms protectively in front of herself and shook her head, eyes on her feet. He stepped closer to her.
"C'mon, you can tell me." She bit her lip and looked up at him. He seemed so concerned, so worried about her, that she couldn't help herself.
"He was my best friend. I know that nobody understands why, but he was, and he betrayed me. He lied to me when we were kids. He said it wouldn't make any difference to people here that I'm Muggle-born but it does! And he thinks it does no matter how adamantly he's denied it to me! Today proved that."
James put his hands on her shoulders and bent to be at eye level with her.
"Look at me, Lily," he said. She looked up into his eyes. They were hazel. She'd never noticed. "It doesn't matter that you're Muggle-born. Regardless of what Snape says. I don't think it matters, Dumbledore doesn't think it matters, not one single person in this tower thinks it matters. Hell, Lily, Slughorn doesn't think it matters and he's the head of Slytherin house! What does matter is the fact that you are a talented witch. You're smarter than most of the pure-bloods here, you're brave and funny, and kind. That, Lily Evans, is what's important. Not your blood status."
She knew he was right. But the tears were still coming down.
"That doesn't change what he said," she whispered, her voice constricted.
"I know," James said, sounding fierce, still holding on to her shoulders, "and I hate him for hurting you so badly."
Lily looked at him. He was here, and he cared enough to listen to her, and try to comfort her, which was more than she could say for anyone else. Then, against her better judgment, Lily Evans stepped forward into the arms of James Potter. She felt his arms cradle her small frame as she shook with silent sobs, crying into his shirt. He didn't try to say anything, for which she was grateful. Words were not enough to fix what had broken. They would seem pathetic in this situation. She wasn't sure how long they stood there before she cried herself out. But he never moved or in any way let on if he was tiring of standing there. When she could finally cry no more, she pulled back he looked at her for a moment.
"You going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I think I'm going to stay here for a bit. I can't face all those people in my dorm right now."
"Okay. You sure you're going to be all right?" She nodded.
"Goodnight James."
"Goodnight Lily." He walked away, watching as she laid down on one of the couches, staring at the fireplace, the dying embers reflected in her green eyes.
The next thing Lily knew, she was waking up. The clock above the fireplace showed, 3:30 a.m. It was then she realized she was covered in a blanket. She sat up and noticed a note pinned to it. She picked up the note and began to read.
I promise I wasn't spying on you! I left my Transfiguration book downstairs and when I went to get it, you were asleep. I thought you looked cold so I went and got the spare blanket from my room. I kind of need it back when you wake up. I wouldn't ask but Remus, Sirius, and Peter might kill me if I lost it. So if you could just leave it in front of the fifth year boy's dormitory, that would be great. I hope you feel better than you did last night.
Lily felt a rush of gratitude towards the boy she thought she would always hate. He'd been so nice to her. First last night, now the blanket. She folded it up and tried to think of words that would encompass the spectrum of her thankfulness. In the end, she wrote simply, "thank you." He would understand. Quietly, she tiptoed up the stairs of the boy's dorm. She stopped at the door labeled "fifth years." It was slightly ajar. Lily bent down, placing the blanket on the floor. She paused for a moment, and peered into the room, eyes seeking a head of messy black hair. She spotted him in the bed farthest from the door. She gave a small smile towards his sleeping form. Maybe he wasn't such an arrogant, bullying, toe rag after all.
