The sleepless night easily transitioned into a quiet morning and James gave up on getting any sleep at all. He had gone to bed at an impossible hour of the night after rounds with Lily had turned into a lovely walk around the castle.
He was so tired he didn't even remember getting to bed. A simple look underneath the covers confirmed that he was still fully dressed. He rolled out of bed, stretched like a cat and yawned loudly.
He was too hungry to sleep anyway.
Details of last night came back to him in bits and pieces. The way Lily had smiled at him, laughed at his jokes. How she had tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the soft blush on her cheeks. How she had rolled her eyes at him, how she had looked at him, looked at him like she was really seeing him.
He caught himself smiling like an idiot. He felt light. Like he could walk on clouds.
He took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes before heading downstairs for breakfast. He knew his friends would have already brought food down to the infirmary for Remus, so he could just eat in the Great Hall rapidly before joining them.
He wanted to see Lily and maybe have breakfast with her, if she was okay with it. It was crazy because it couldn't have been more than three hours since they had last seen each other, but he missed her.
When he arrived in the Great Hall, she was already there, seemingly engaged into an intense conversation with Marlene, and James smiled. Beamed.
She did the same when she saw him approaching. There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair was up in a messy bun and her smile was blinding. She looked beautiful. Effortlessly.
He sat on the bench next to her, stole the toast from her plate and bit into it.
"Quit it, James!" Lily swatted him on the arm, repressing a smile. "Marlene was trying to tell me something!"
"Sorry," mumbled James with his mouth full. He wasn't sorry at all. "Go ahead, Marls."
"Mary hasn't slept in her bed," whispered Marlene, leaning over the table to not be overheard. "You don't think she spent the night with Peter, do you?"
James shook his head, frowning. Peter would have been with Remus and Sirius all night in the Shack, or in the forest if they had deemed it safe. But then again, Peter was not himself lately and James could totally rule out the fact that he had not been with Remus. Still, he choose to trust him.
"No, she couldn't have."
"Where is she then?"
James threw a glance at Lily and she looked back at him worryingly. Surely, Mary had found her way back to the castle after leaving for Hogsmeade. Surely, she was fine.
Lily looked like she was about to say something when she was interrupted by a new presence in front of them, just behind Marlene.
"Potter, Evans, McKinnon, if I may have a word with you in my office?" More than the tone of urgency, it was the tremble in McGonagall voice that froze James' blood in his veins. The deputy headmistress never let emotions overtake her, she never was anything less than strict and calm. But now, standing before them, she was clasping her hands together to stop them from shaking.
James looked up, desperate to see that half-smile, that twitch at the corner of her lips she only reserved for him. But her face was blank.
They walked in silence the whole way. In heightened anxiety, like they were balancing on the edge of a bottomless cliff and the softest of breeze could knock them over. Marlene was walking just a little in front of James, Lily just a little behind. The echo of their footsteps filled James' brain and he let that be the only thing in his head. He couldn't think, he didn't want to think.
Because if he did, he would remember Mary's smile as she left for Hogsmeade. He would remember that last night was the full moon and if he thought, if he really thought, he would remember it was the war. Because there was more to life than adolescent love. There were wolves circling the castle, he had heard them himself. He didn't allow himself to think about it. He wanted to think about everything else but Mary, outside, with the wolves.
The door to McGonagall's office fell shut behind them with a resounding click and the tension in the room thickened. It was hard to breathe.
She gave them a sign they could sit, which they all declined silently. There was a knot growing in James' throat and he knew it was the same for Lily and Marlene. He wanted to speak, to ask the question that was on everyone's lips but speaking the words would make them real, it would make everything real and right now nothing was.
It was up in the air, the thick, heavy air, and he wanted the seconds to stretch into infinity so he wouldn't have to know the answer. He didn't want to know.
He barely heard the words when they fell from McGonagall's lips. They were drowned out by white noise. He barely saw the single tear rolling down her cheek and he barely understood what she was saying, that Mary was gone. Dead.
He wouldn't have felt any differently if the world had shattered under his feet. And he would be strong, he would be strong.
But the pain.
It was a pain he didn't know he could survive. It crawled inside of him, suffocating, intoxicating, a boiling poison in his lungs. It crawled and it crawled in his veins until it washed over him like a storm, indescribable, unbearable.
Unstoppable.
But he would be strong, he would be strong.
His body shivered and a single sob escaped his lips, breaking the heavy silence. It was all he would allow himself, one second of weakness before Marlene's gut-wrenching scream filled the room. Her legs collapsed under her but James was there and he caught her before she hit the ground, holding her shaking shoulders against him as she screamed and screamed and screamed into his chest.
He would be strong, he would be strong for her and for Lily who stood in stunned silence, drowning in her own tears.
He would be strong.
But the pain.
The pain.
It climbed up his spine, to the attic of his throat and it stayed there, stuck, incapable to come out and escape his body. The pain was trapped and it hurt it hurt it hurt inside and out.
But he would be strong, he would be strong.
Still squeezing Marlene against his chest, James reached out his hand to touch Lily's elbow and pull her closer to him. He needed to see her, to feel her, before he was inevitably blinded by the pain. The pain.
But he would be strong, he would be strong.
Lily took a shy step towards him before her legs gave out too. James caught her with his left arm and held her tight. Lily gasped for air, buried her face in his chest and cried and cried and cried and Marlene screamed and screamed and screamed.
But James was strong. Strong enough to hold them both.
So he did.
For hours, he held them as they grasped his shoulders, clasping the fabric of his shirt as if he was the one stable thing in a world of chaos. For hours, he was their rock and he kept them afloat.
He didn't shed a tear.
How could he, when the overwhelming guilt was stronger than his grief? For hours he remained motionless in a tempest that tore the very foundations of his being. Who was he, if not a monster that had sent a friend to her certain death, by pure carelessness?
McGonagall had gone, she had left silently a long time ago, and had transfigurated her desk into three small comfortable beds. He didn't know when but James had lowered himself and the girls onto the closest one. He had helped them crawl up next to him, almost carried them when they were too numb to carry themselves.
He didn't know when but silence had filled the room. The girls had rested their heads on his chest and closed their eyes and peacefully, gracefully, everything had gone quiet.
It was almost worse for James. Quiet was a void that swallowed him whole, every part of him, and spat him back an empty shell. He wanted noise, he wanted chaos, he wanted to scream.
"You haven't cried at all." Lily's voice, low and hoarse, broke the deafening silence and James looked down to see she was awake. Her eyes were dry, but red and puffy, and she was staring at James with an intensity he had never before seen in her.
"I have to be strong," he said quietly, because it was true and because Marlene looked so small nestled under his protective arm.
Lily sat up next to James so they were on the same level, and he leaned against her because he was so tired to sit upright. He rested his head on her shoulder and she thread her fingers through his hair, stroking him gently, softly and the touch awoke a sleeping feeling inside of him, a feeling that grew and grew and grew.
"We can take turns being the strong one," Lily murmured against his temple, and the feeling burst inside of James and a sob escaped his lips, followed by another, then another.
The pain was immense. Overpowering.
There was so much he wanted to say to her, things like thank you, or I'm so sorry. Things like I love you or I'll never let you die. His words were drowned out by his tears, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly and he knew she understood.