A/N: Mostly fluff with not much dialogue, and pretty short, but also really important to the story! I had fun writing it, remember to R&R!
***
Three days after their interrupted interlude in the corridor, Lily was still a mess. She looked up from the Transfiguration book she was reading, to see the familiar, yet dreaded, black hair. Messy as usual, and windblown from Quidditch practice, she supposed. He was sitting in the corner of the common room, on one of the armchairs that were usually reserved for the older students, the seventh years, yet inhabited now by four sixth years, James and his friends. She observed them over the top of her book.
James was looking unusually solemnly into the fire. She memorized his features again, the messy black hair, the sharply shaped face, the athletic build, the bright hazel eyes… She shook herself, and moved on. His best friend Sirius Black sat next to him joking with Remus Lupin, her fellow prefect. Both boys were tall and lean; Sirius with a touch of muscle, Remus with a touch of gauntness. Lily worried over Remus, he always seemed sickly. Sirius, however, did not need or want to be worried after. Her eyes slid to the fourth member of the group, the tiny mouse-like Peter Pettigrew. Peter was a strange little boy, almost always nervous. It seemed strange to her that boys like Sirius and James would be friends with the gaunt, pale and sickly Remus, and the strange, timid Peter.
Suddenly another boy sprang in her mind and she almost sighed. Severus. He was always near the forefront of her mind, so it wasn't shocking. They had been friends since they were eleven, yet sometimes it seemed as if she didn't know him at all. Almost without thinking, she saw James and Sev side by side, and she compared them.
It was obvious which one was preferred by her fellow classmates, but she couldn't discount the other. Severus was…darker. He had a side that sometimes seemed to have been born in him, and sometimes seemed to have been a choice. Every time she saw that, she wanted to run. She wanted to get as far away as possible, but then she would berate herself. You are a Gryffindor. And he is your friend. And she knew she couldn't leave.
"Lily."
She was startled out of her thoughts. "I-what?" Looking up she saw him. James.
"You look as if you're thinking of throwing the book at me, you're staring so hard." He chuckled; again he was totally at ease. "I was afraid you were going to leave a dent in my head."
"It could only be an improvement," she said.
"Ouch. That hurt," he said mockingly.
"Uh-huh. Well, I'll be seeing you then." Lily tried to gather the books on the table in front of her, but he held them down and frowned at her.
"What is your problem with me?" he demanded.
"I...it's…nothing, James. Leave me alone." She tore her books out from under his hand and almost ran up the stairs.
***
That night, sitting in her bed, Lily tried not to cry. Two faces were warring with each other in front of her. Or rather, in her mind. One shadowed, and half in the dark, the other a brilliant shining beacon. Sitting there alone, she admitted to herself what she hoped they would never know; she loved them. Both of them. The one who was at war with himself, always trying to find a way through, and the other, arrogant, but also funny, brilliant, and kind. She remembered the day she had seen him pick up the little first year that had been hexed, and had run her to Madam Pomfrey's office himself. He had sat there with the little girl until she was healed. And Sev, the boy who had comforted her when her sister refuted her, so compassionate.
She felt the tears roll down her cheeks, and she knew her heart was breaking in two.