A/N: I don't quite know what this story is at this point. Honestly, I only wrote it a few nights ago because of a confrontation with my dad. I'm in recovery and I didn't want to cut, so I wrote the first thing that came to mind…which happened to be a Lily Potter fanfiction.

I hope you enjoy this. It only took me about an hour and a half to write.

P.S. I was going to post it a few days ago, but I had to wait for FF to allow me to because of the new account.

P.P.S. My other account is SpecialAgentSloane

Lily slid down the wall, her face in her hands as she drew her knees to her chest.

"It's okay, it's okay…" she murmured over and over to herself as the painful sobs wracked through her. "I'm fine," she wailed to herself, trying to keep it together even though she was so far gone.

She heard the door to the empty classroom shudder open and looked up quickly, wiping her eyes and attempting to quiet her sobs. Potters didn't show weakness, after all. Not since the second Great War.

"Lily…"

It was Lysander Scamander.

"Please leave," Lily said, attempting to sound chipper. I'll be fine, it'll be okay, I'm okay… "I can't talk right now."

Lysander didn't look convinced, and made to step toward her.

Something inside her snapped. No, he would not console her.

"Leave!" Lily screamed.

Lysander backtracked so quickly he didn't hear the sobs that immediately took over her body once again.

A friend had given her the password to the Prefects' Bathroom, and Lily used that information to her full advantage. Not to use the swimming pool-sized tub, nor the thousands of showerheads with varying pressures. She didn't even use it to entertain guests like she knew many a Prefect had done before her.

No, Lily Potter used the privacy to wallow, and to punish herself the way she knew she deserved, and shut out the feelings she couldn't take anymore.

You see, she'd rather feel the burn and sting of a blade than feel the hollow, cold emptiness in the pit of her stomach that made her physically ill.

That was the second time Lysander Scamander saw her at her weakest. This time was worse, though: this time she was in nothing but a bra and underwear, and he could see the words etched into her skin. The proof of how she felt by the scars marring her body.

Lysander rushed forward. He was too concerned about the blood trickling and gushing, pooling and smearing, to be panicked about her current state of undress.

"Shit," Lysander hissed under his breath as he knelt before her, conjuring gauze and a healing salve. He murmured a few spells to clear up the blood and cringed inwardly at how deep the cuts were. Somehow, though, he doubted these were the deepest ones her body had seen.

Lily said nothing as he set to work healing her body. She tried to pull away at first, but he wasn't having that—and he was in control being the taller, more muscular and mentally stable of the two.

The small Gryffindor girl jerked away and whimpered when he set to bandaging a particularly messy set of gouges, and Lysander whispered, "shh" as he placed a kiss to her temple and finished the job.

Taking in her messy clothes, which hadn't managed to avoid the smears of blood, Lysander threw away Lily's soiled clothes and took off his shirt, handing it to her before conjuring another from his dorm room so he didn't have to walk around the castle half dressed.

Lysander picked up Lily, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair and pressing kisses there, as he carried her back to their dorms—somehow managing to go unseen.

It wasn't until they had gotten past the fat lady that Lily spoke in a small, broken sort of voice, "I'm s-sorry."

Lysander didn't respond, just made to set her down so that she could go back to her room, but her grip tightened around his neck.

"What's wrong?" Lysander questioned, tightening his grip around her body as an automatic response.

"Can I stay with you tonight, Zander?" Lily asked, looking up at him with her wide, red-rimmed brown eyes.

There was really only one answer, so Lysander carried her up to his dorm and set her down in his bed, pausing for a moment before undressing and making to conjure more blankets so he could sleep on the floor.

"Stay with me," Lily whispered, patting the bed beside her.

Lysander wanted to flush. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers, and Lily wore nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. This was nowhere near appropriate, he knew, yet that didn't stop him from sliding into his bed beside her.

The third time Lysander saw Lily cry was after a conversation between herself and her uncle Ron during a Quidditch match. Lysander didn't think Lily knew that he was also there with his mother, a friend of the Potter-Weasley clan.

"Jesus, Lily, your mum's always making excuses about some muggle depression you seem to have caught, but you need to buck up and stop making excuses," Ron said, taking a notebook Lily was writing in and shoving it under his seat. "Now stop acting like a brat and start watching the game!"

Lily waited a moment, and pretended to be focused on the game before she said, "Excuse me, I'm off to the loo."

Ron smiled at her like nothing had happened. "Bring back some butterbeer if you pass a stand."

She nodded and smiled.

It slipped into a mask of despair as soon as she turned away.

Lysander turned and said quietly to his mother, "I'll be back. Tell me what I miss."

She nodded quickly, only half-listening as the announcer's voice boomed, "Ten points for the Harpies!"

Lysander turned from her and followed Lily closely.

She was running, and he was trying to keep up without being noticed by her. She dashed down the hall, past the concession stands, down the stairs and out of the stadium. Lysander didn't waste a moment concerning himself with how he'd get back in.

He saw she was about to Apparate home, and he called, "Lily, wait!"

She paused and seemed to falter before a look of determination crossed her face and she disappeared with a crack!

Not before Lysander grabbed her hand in his.

They were a few yards outside of a gate leading to the Potter home. Lysander had been there countless times before, but had never seen it quite so empty.

"Leave me alone," Lily said, wrenching her arm out of Lysander's before she stomped toward the direction of her home.

"Lily, please," Lysander pleaded, following close behind her.

"Go away!" Lily snarled, wrenching open the front door and disappearing inside, flicking on lights as she went.

"I won't," Lysander growled back his response, holding his ground.

Lily turned to face him with her wand in hand, looking maniacal. "I'll call the Aurors," she threatened. "Or, better yet, I'll hex you into oblivion. You know how good I am at those."

It was true: he did know. He knew her very well, as he knew all of her family. But he knew her the best. See, he'd been watching her. Waiting. He knew it was only a matter of time before this happened again.

He used to be like her.

"I know what you're doing," Lysander said quietly.

Again, Lily's confidence seemed to falter.

"What am I doing, then," she challenged, brushing her auburn locks out of her face.

Lysander took a tentative step forward, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.

"You're trying to get me to leave so that you can be alone," Lysander said, eyes not wavering. "You're going to lock yourself in the loo, draw a bath, and slide into the tub. You're going to take a razor and you're going to cut your legs, because if you survive, you don't want others to know it happened. Especially not your family."

Lily dropped her wand. It literally fell out of her hand and clattered onto the floor.

"I don't know what to do," she said, voice breaking.

Lysander calmed her, stepping even closer. "There are other ways, Lil. You can feel happy or relieved or just better by doing other things. It doesn't have to be like this."

"I've tried," she responded, biting her lip, a single tear falling from her eye.

Lysander gave her a small, kind smile. "I'll help you."

And suddenly, he was holding her small frame against his own larger one, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear as the sobs took over once again.

He'd taken to holding her.

It had started out as something only done in private. He held her when she cried. When she felt sad, or angry, or lonely. Then she found herself in his arms when she was happy, or pleased. He was the first person she told everything to, good or bad, old or new, updating him on anything in her life that she found significant.

Then they started sitting next to each other at meals. They didn't mean for it to happen, exactly, but it had: they gravitated toward each other in a way that was hard to ignore.

Rose looked at them suspiciously over her goblet at dinner one night.

"You guys are really good friends, aren't you?"

Lysander didn't say anything at first, waiting for Lily to respond instead.

True to form, Lily swallowed her food first before grinning. "Best of friends, actually. Jealous, Rosie?" She added the last bit teasingly.

Rose returned her smile, whatever she was about to accuse them of forgotten. "Quite a bit. I should go tell Albus to be a better best friend instead of wasting all of his time gossiping and doing nails with Scorpius."

Lily cackled at that. "Goodness, the way those two talk, you'd think they were a couple of twelve-year-old girls!"

Lysander smiled at the exchange, and he snaked his arm around Lily's back, pulling her the tiniest bit closer so that their sides were touching.

Rose was suddenly suspicious again, and it was only then that Lysander realized what he had done.

How long had these affectionate touches been happening subconsciously?

Lily seemed fine to everyone. As usual, she was chipper and energetic, making everyone around her laugh at her sarcastic or silly remarks.

Lysander knew better.

See, it wasn't normal for a happy person to lay alone, hugging a pillow and staring at the window as silent tears fell down her face. It especially wasn't normal if it happened multiple times a week.

It was always in his bed.

"Why do you do this, Lily?" Lysander asked, brushing her hair back with practiced movements. He already knew the answer. "Why do you lay here instead of going out to play Quidditch or talking to Rosie or visiting Hogsmeade?"

Lily shrugged. "I like your bed. It makes me feel safe."

Lysander sighed. "That wasn't what I was asking."

"You make me feel safe," was Lily's only response as she looked over at him.

For once, she wasn't crying.

It was days later that Lysander convinced Lily to leave the safety of Lysander's dorm room and go to the common room for a party that was already in full swing.

"What exactly are we celebrating?" Lily wondered aloud as they maneuvered down the steps past the gyrating bodies, unconscious partiers, and couples making out.

"Since when do we Gryffindors ever need an excuse to throw a party?" Lysander returned, and she laughed because it was true.

Finding a levitating tray floating near them, Lysander grabbed a shot and was surprised when Lily grabbed one as well.

"I didn't know you drank," Lysander said, eyebrow raised.

Lily smirked. "I'm a Weasley—of course I drink."

The following weekend was a trip to Hogsmeade, and as usual, Lysander and Lily went together.

They were strolling down Main Street, hands in pockets with shoulders brushing every few steps.

Lily asked, seemingly out of nowhere, "Why do you care about me so much?"

Lysander paused, taken aback. "Why are you asking this now?"

Lily shrugged. "I've only just plucked up the courage to ask."

"Why did you need to feel courageous to ask, Miss Gryffindor?" Lysander asked, a grin on his face, but Lily could see the seriousness in his question by the look in his eyes.

"Because," Lily said, not one for being subtle, "I'm hoping for a response that I'm afraid you can't give."

And Lysander knew.

Slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, Lysander stepped forward, taking one of her glove-clad hands in his own, lacing their fingers together as he leaned down slowly.

"I love you too much to see you hurt," he whispered in her ear, answering her question to the fullest of his capability. "And I want you to be happy. I won't ever stop trying."

And with that, he kissed her gently on the mouth.

It wasn't an urgent kiss. It was sweet, and slow, and not at all tentative. Lysander was much too confident to ever be hesitant in a kiss, especially one with the woman he loved so much.

From then on, their love for one another wasn't a secret, and even those who didn't see it coming saw it coming. Especially Rose.

"I knew it!" she squealed at breakfast one morning. They weren't acting any different, but she could tell from the looks in their faces. "You lied to me!"

Lily laughed. "You're quite insane, Rosie. Calm down before Neville comes over."

"I knew you were seeing each other," Rose felt the need to point out.

Lysander looked around surreptitiously. "No one knows, Rose. Merlin, quiet down."

Lily raised an eyebrow at him. "What, are we to be ashamed that we're dating?"

Lysander rolled his eyes at her, knowing she was teasing. "Yes, I'm ashamed to be seen with the most beautiful girl in Gryffindor, because that makes sense."

Taken over by a surge of confidence, Lily leaned forward and caught Lysander in a short, but passionate, kiss for the entire Great Hall to see.

Lysander grinned goofily at her when the kiss ended.

"What was that?" he asked.

Lily grinned. "Bragging rights."

Things weren't perfect, but they were certainly better, because everyone feels braver when they have a partner to face the world with.