" 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 myTransfiguration book downstairs and when I went to getit, you were asleep. I thought you looked cold so Iwent and got the spare blanket from my room. I kind ofneed it back when you wake up. I wouldn't ask butRemus, Sirius, and Peter might kill me if I lost it.So if you could just leave it in front of the fifthyear boy's dormitory, that would be great. I hope youfeel 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.