James Potter was knackered. He was used to being tired, but there's a special type of exhaustion that has to overcome someone before they fall asleep in a crowded, noisy common room.

For the third day in a row, James had reached that kind of exhaustion, and he was currently huddled under a Gryffindor blanket that smelled vaguely of lilacs and cinnamon.

He had been asleep for about an hour when his blanket was unceremoniously yanked from his body.

Assuming it to be one of his mates, he grabbed tight to the edge of the fabric and spit out, "Piss off," without even opening his eyes.

"Excuse me," Lily Evans proclaimed shrewdly, tugging back on the blanket.

James's eyes snapped open when he heard her. "Evans?" he asked blearily. "What —"

"Don't play innocent," she snapped, though James was perhaps even more confused than his expression let on.

"I'm not playing, Evans," he grumbled, pushing his sloppy hair out of his eyes so that he could see her. She was fuming. Her face was almost bright enough to match her auburn hair. "What's the trouble?" James asked her, already bored with her temper. "Is sleeping in the common room grounds for a detention these days?"

"No," she replied in a huff, "but stealing a prefect's blanket might be."

"Stealing a — what are you on about, Evans?"

"My blanket, Potter," Evans said venomously, using her wand to gesture to the item in question. "The Gryffindor blanket my mother hand-knitted for me. It's been missing for three days. I should have known that you'd be the one to have it."

"Don't point that thing at me, Evans," James said, sitting up and knocking her wand out of his face. "I'll have you know that this blanket was left for me."

"I can guarantee you it wasn't," she countered. "Marlene stole it from my bed at the beginning of the week, and I haven't seen it since."

"Listen, Evans, I wouldn't have picked up your bloody blanket. I fell asleep on the couch a few days ago, and when I woke up, it was draped over me. You just said yourself that Marlene took it. I assumed a house-elf left it for me, but McKinnon's just as likely —"

"You know what," Lily huffed, "it doesn't matter. Just give it back to me, and we can carry on ignoring one another."

"Yeah," James said sharply, "about that. Maybe if you had approached me nicely, and this hadn't been the worst week of my life, and I had been awake, I'd have less of a problem conceding to this. As it is, I'm exhausted, you interrupted my nap, and I'm going back to sleep."

James dramatically returned to his reclined position, making sure to tuck the blanket tightly around himself.

"Well I'll have you know," Lily screeched as she dug her nails into the blanket and began to tug, "that this just so happens to be the worst week of my life as well. Made all the worse by the fact that you've got my bloody blanket!"

James didn't reply, so Lily gave him a harsh shove in hopes of dislodging the blanket.

"Merlin, Evans, let me get some sleep. I'll fight with you later."

"I don't want to fight with you!" she proclaimed, stomping her foot as she took a step away from James. "I just want the damn blanket that my mother made." As she said it, her voice broke.

James twisted around so that he was looking at her, but he didn't relinquish his hold on the blanket. "For Merlin's sake, don't cry about it."

"I'll cry about what I want to cry about," Lily said, though she wasn't crying. In fact, the anger in her voice seemed to chase away any threat of tears.

This time, instead of trying to grab the blanket from James, she shoved his feet off the couch and sat herself down in the newly open space. James glared at her, but instead of complaining again, he curled up into a smaller ball.

In the meantime, Lily grabbed the edge of the blanket and draped it over her lap. It wasn't what she wanted.What she wanted was to wrap herself in the warm, hand-stitched fabric; to feel the embrace of her mother's love from so far away.

What James Potter wanted was to fall unconscious. He would've been well on his way if Lily hadn't kept prodding him.

"Potter, please, let me have the blanket."

"Evans, please, give me an hour and I'll send it back. I just don't have the energy to go upstairs right now. I'm dead on my feet."

"Then sleep without a blanket," she spit.

"I'm trying to catch a nap before heading back to the bloody hospital," James bit. "Give me a break."

"I'm trying to keep myself together while my whole family's off at my gran's funeral," Lily spit back venomously. "Give me a break."

"Lily, I'm sorry." James sat himself up a smidge, and passed more of the blanket in Lily's direction. "Why aren't you there?"

"Too difficult to arrange," she said, focusing on the blanket now in her lap. Her fingers toyed with the frayed edges of the stitching. "Magic is only so useful when your family doesn't have a floo network."

She picked up her head to glance over at James, who was still reclined with his head against the couch's armrest. "This week has fucking sucked," she lamented. Then, "What about you? You've been in and out of the hospital?"

"Visiting my dad," James said. "He was jinxed at work. He's going to be fine, but it was a little touch and go for a while. He just got out of the ICU today."

"James, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Me, too. But you're right, this week has fucking sucked."

He shifted his position a bit, getting a little closer to Lily so that she could have her fair share of the blanket.

"Here's the thing, Lily," James said, "I'm sorry about your gran. I'm even sorrier that you're not there with your family."

"But you still want to keep the blanket?"

"It'll be a short nap," he promised.

Lily shook her head in return. "Honestly, I'm pretty exhausted myself. Not so sure I can move."

"So you're going to nap with me?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

"Just this once, Potter, I think the two of us can call a truce. In honour of the worst week of our lives."

"Fair enough," he said. He settled back into his crook of the couch. Lily followed his lead, locating her own armrest. Lily's blanket was stretched tautly between the two, creating a web that was –– at least for the night –– connecting them both in something greater than themselves.