He watched her. He watched her annoy James, trust Remus, get to know Peter. He watched her yell at them, punish them.
He knew what she was thinking. He knew what was going through her mind when she hid behind her hair, or wrinkled her nose.
She was James'. That was the truth, and really, what was the point of denying it? She wasn't his, and never would be.
He tried to pretend, during the day, that it was all okay. But at night, the façade dropped and he was up, sobs shaking his body into the early hours of the morning.
His friends noticed the decrease of eating, the exhaustion that lingered in his silver eyes.
She noticed, too. He could tell by the way her brow creased concernedly. She was worried.
Sometimes, the sorrow would leave, to be replaced by burning fury. He would go into the Room of Requirement for hours on end, smashing things, screaming at nothing.
When James asked her out, and she said yes, he was missing for a day and a half. No one could find him, and finally James went to Dumbledore. He asked him of anything drastic had happened, and James told him about him and Lily. He didn't understand the pity in his headmaster's eyes.
When he finally emerged from the Room of Requirement, his voice was gone, and his hands were bloodied. Everyone hugged him, but her hug stood out from the rest.
She visited him in the hospital wing, brought him chocolates.
He cherished her visits.
When she and James got married, no one could find him until half an hour before the wedding. His face was gaunt, and there was a pool of hurt in his stormy eyes.
Never the less, he performed perfectly, and no one knew that earlier that day he had been crying so hard his eyes hurt.
When Harry was born, he tried to be the perfect godfather, but it hurt him because he wished that he was the father, not the just godfather.
He loved Lily, so he never hurt her in anyway. He protected her, guided her, and made sure she was happy.
And then she was gone.
He couldn't protect her anymore, because she was gone. Gone. Never to return. The hole in his chest was huge, aching. It consumed him until he was nothing more then a shadow. A vapor. Something that was there, but didn't really exist. He was torn apart, and he welcomed Azkaban. At least here there weren't memories of when she alive and healthy. For the first year, it was okay. He thought of Lily, and tried to get over it. After that first year, it seemed that the news of her death hit him repeatedly.
And then he escaped. He was free. He roamed the country side as a dog, running through streams, rolling in grass. It was a good life, but she was always on his mind, stopping him from complete bliss.
So he went to Hogwarts, to stop the evil, sick, twisted actual killer of Lily. Peter Pettigrew.
He saw Harry for the first time, and oh, the pain of seeing him. Although he loved Lily, James had been his best friend, and seeing the spitting image of him didn't help the aching. And Harry's eyes. Her eyes. Those eyes that had stared at him worriedly, that had been excited, sad, happy, and loving. The eyes that didn't see anything anymore. He continued on his search for Peter.
When everything turned out okay, Sirius was content as he could be, eating stolen meat, and sleeping in caves.
When Dumbledore told him to stay in Number 12, Grimwauld Place, he accepted, mainly because he didn't think it'd be too bad. But it was.
Being alone gave him time to think, which was what he didn't want. Thoughts of her filled his mind, causing him to curl up and not eat for days.
When Harry was in trouble, he went, thanking God for the distraction.
There was a flash of red, and suddenly he was shot backwards, and he tried to get up, but a gray haze was filling his mind. Her face was there, and suddenly, he didn't want to get up. So he stayed, and soon everything faded.