Friday.

The sun was pouring through the windows when James awoke stretched out on the couch in the common room. He pushed himself up on his elbows and gave his head a shake, eyes shut to block out the glare. He opened them a crack, in front of his watch.

"Fuck."

"I thought so too," came a chipper voice next to his ear. He groaned.

"What d'you want?"

"Wake up. It's five o'clock already."

"Time flies. Go back to bed."

"Your voice is very growly first thing and I like it."

"Maybe if I wake up twice it'll be growlier."

A disappointed sort of exhalation from beside him. "It's going away now. All good things must come to an end."

"To coin a phrase," he said, rolling over. He shielded his face with a hand and opened his eyes for a second time. Lily was beaming down at him from where she was crouched on the floor. "What are you doing?"

"I was awake. I thought you might as well be, too."

"Now I am. What are you going to do about it?"

"Take you up on your lunch offer. Come one, get up."

"It's five o'clock in the morning!"

"Do you not know where the kitchens are?"

"That doesn't change what time it is."

"Yes, but no one has porridge for lunch, do they. We're going to get something lunchy, and then we can have a picnic."

"The ground will be soaking wet."

"It's called magic, Potter. And table cloths."

"If it doesn't have checks I'm not going near it."

"Red and white, there's no other way."

"All right, then. You go get sandwiches and I'll find a magic."

She held up a wicker basket. "That's okay, you don't have an excuse to escape me. Let's go."

James stumbled after her as she skipped through the Portrait Hole – quite a feat – and down the stairs. It was only when they got outside that he realized he was wearing his track pants and t-shirt from Quidditch practice, with no cloak to cut the wind. He shivered. "I've got to go back, Evans, I'll freeze."

"We'll swath you in blankets. I brought lots. Or charm a lovely little island of warmth so that we can stay sheltered from the storm, in a cloud of awkward blue."

"In the cool of your soft little hands, yeah. Unless you brought evening sheets you can drop any lyrical fantasies you might possess."

Lily stopped gesturing at the vista and reached for the basket. James covered his face. "If you brought sheets I'm going to kill you."

"I thought you might anyway, so that's a risk I'm willing to take. Sheets go easier through the wash than blankets, you know. We don't want to go spreading mud on all the bedclothes."

"You're certainly giving it your best, aren't you. Where are you going?"

"Do you want the Quidditch pitch or the lake?"

"I don't care," James said, his voice muffled. Lily looked between the two and said,

"Quidditch pitch, then."

"Do you like Quidditch?" This was the most hopeful thing he'd heard all day. Her laugh felt like a flowery blade slicing open his heart and stabbing it repeatedly into the ground.

"Not in the least. Mostly I like to watch the Quidditch players zooming around throwing I know not what, but it's unlikely we'll get that this morning."

"Or," he said, starting to turn back, "I could rouse the team and we could –"

She grabbed hold of him and dragged him forward. "You're not getting away, James."

"That's not your angry voice. Why are you calling me that when you're not angry? Are you secretly plotting to kill me? Is that why you're so happy?" He pulled himself free. "Why are you touching me? Why aren't you running away before I start to talk about –"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush. We're not talking about that."

"We're not?"

"We're not."

"Then I don't need to be here. I'll just –"

"James."

"That's your angry voice, I can hear it."

"Shut your mouth and move."

He followed her soundlessly, the grass cushioning their footfalls. The place was locked down, but James still had the key to the dressing rooms in his pocket. He opened the door for her, and she went to sit on one of the benches. He went to his locker and got out a sweater.

"You don't want a warm magic box?" Lily asked, disappointed. "No lovely little island?"

"I want a warm sweater. Are you alright?"

"If we're not going to have a warm magic box I will be forced to swath myself in blankets. No worries."

"I can get you a sweater from Sirius's old locker."

"Hasn't he cleared it out yet? He hasn't played for years."

"Of course not. He uses this room all the time. Do you want anything?"

She shook her head. "Let's just go."

They went out to the middle of the pitch. She flung the sheet out, and on top of it all of her blankets. The table cloth came out last.

"You were serious," James said.

"That's the other guy." Lily chortled. She was in a good mood. He lay down and put his head on his arms.

"I'm tired, Lil. It's early."

"If it wasn't early we'd be in class."

"You sure know how to make a bad situation seem a whole lot worse."

"I want to talk to you."

"Can I just lie here and listen?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

She didn't say anything for a while. James didn't mind, he was happy waiting for the sun to rise properly and get rid of the cool blue mist hanging over them. She thought of a lot of things she wanted to tell him, none of them very relevant. In the end she said, "I'm sorry," and went back to the castle.

James had gone to sleep. He didn't wake up until halfway through the morning, and even then it was just to have a sandwich. It seemed strange that she would drag him all the way out to tuck him in to bed, but he didn't worry about it too much. It was probably a healthy step.