She slid silently into the common room, wrapping a cardigan tightly around her shoulders as she searched for a comfortable chair. Although it was midnight, Lily hadn't been able to fall asleep so she settled herself into a sofa beside the fire watching the flames dance and flicker, the sky stretching large and black behind the windows. It was then that she heard the sniff emanating from a corner of the room. She started. She'd expected everyone else to be in their dormitories by this time.
"Who's there?" she called, suddenly craving company. The sniff was cut short as if the sniffer hadn't realised they weren't alone either. Lily stood up, searching the assortment of rickety chairs, soft sofas and leather armchairs for a figure. With a jolt, she saw him curled up on the floor by a large window.
"James?" She exclaimed as she neared. For a moment, she felt the little flip flop that her heart did whenever she saw him, although she would never admit it, but then she realised he hadn't responded and he was covering his face with his hands. "James, is everything all right?" She asked, suddenly terrified that his sniffing hadn't been because of the cold.
Slowly, he removed his hands from his face to reveal haunted eyes, rimmed red behind his glasses. The moonlight cast harsh shadows along his cheekbones, illuminating the tears glistening on his face. He sniffed again, apparently unembarrassed by his predicament, before shaking his head.
Taking this as an invitation to sit down she grasped his hand, feeling it was the right thing to do but in truth she had no idea. She had never seen him cry, always charming, always cocky Potter never cried. "Tell me what's wrong," she said desperately but it only seemed to worsen his mood. His face crumpled and he turned so his forehead collided with the glass of the window. He stayed there for a moment, still clutching her hand, breath fogging around his nose before he took a deep breath.
"My parents are dead." The words fell out of his mouth to be met with a horrible silence. Lily was shocked but she didn't respond, knowing that he would say more, needed to say more. "McGonagall told me after dinner. She said it was Voldemort. Voldemort killed my parents." Each statement was formed into a bullet that seemed to shatter whatever composure he had and he collapsed into her, haunted gasps escaping his tall frame as he shuddered. Silently, she pulled him up so his arms were wrapped around her and hers around him and she allowed him to fall apart in the embrace as she held his broken pieces together.
They stayed like that for a while before she extricated herself from his arms knowing that anything she could say to comfort him would feel empty and meaningless.
"I'm going to get Sirius." She told him firmly, knowing that he needed a friend, knowing that his emotions toward her were too complicated for him to handle at that moment and with that she turned and she left him to sit motionless on the floor, a silent statue staring into emptiness.