Disclaimer: I own thee not, like always.

There aren't that many things that really so occupy him anymore.

Sure, when they were younger, in their first few years of magical education, it was easy to find things to do, because the Wizarding world was so fresh to them, and many things were left
to be done and explored. But after six years of school, things started to dull out, and began
to get boring, and nothing seemed as exciting as it had been before.

Sure, sending a rapid fire of Dungbombs on unsuspecting Slytherins would always be good for
a quick laugh, but after the first five or six times, it died out, being left behind in some
improper fashion to be picked up again in a series of months. And yes, the monthly tromps
in the Shrieking Shack were always fun in their own respects, but those only came with
each full moon and were costly to one of their own. Of course, breaking into other
Common Rooms to do redecorating also took up some of their spare time, but it also got
old and never provided for long-term fun.

So there James Potter sat, in his laid out glory of boredom, doing nothing once again.

There has to be a better way to spend seventh year, he thought dully as he ran one hand
through his hair and tapped the other against the wood of the table at which he sat. Yep,
there are most definitely more suitable things that I could be doing.

Yet he didn't know what. That was James's biggest fault, besides perhaps his arrogance.
He always knew there were superior things to be doing; he just couldn't figure them out. It
usually left him going on some tirade to an unsuspecting first or second year who just
wished to vanish and yet couldn't because one Messr. Prongs bluntly refused to allow it
until he finished his talking.

That, he realized, is yet another of my faults.

James stood up. Well, I'm Head Boy. Maybe I can go out for a late night-early morning
stroll without getting into all that much trouble.

And so, he decided, I shall. It's just . . . since when do I care about getting into trouble?

He abandoned the thought and left the Common Room, fastening his Head Boy badge to
the front of his robes. Why he had left them on, even he did not know, but he had, and it
didn't really matter to him at the moment. If it looked more professional, that might also
help him avoid problems.

Sulkily, he strolled down a corridor, traveling on a whim that maybe adventure would
meet him when he rounded the bend in the halls.

But rather then adventure, it was sobs that greeted him.

Not too cheery, especially when I'm all ready down. Wait, down? Is that quite the word
that I'm looking for?

Yet again, he dropped the subject and followed the sounds of lamenting. He neared the
source of noise, and heard mixes of mutterings thrown in with the tears.

"I . . . I should have . . . have been there," the voice said. It was a girl, though James could
not tell whom. Was she in his year? Was she even a member of the Gryffindor House? She
must be, that's why she's so close to the Common Room.

"I . . . I could've . . . maybe I'd have been able to . . . to . . . to save them . . . but I
couldn't . . . . I was here . . . here . . . . And I don't . . . don't want to be anymore!"

James took a step closer, purposely coughing a moment before she came into view. If he
was going to intrude on someone's privacy, he was at least going to give her a heads-up
before appearing. He wanted her to have a moment to compose herself, to wipe away the
tears and clean her face.

It was Lily Evans.

His Lily.

No, not his. Lily belonged to nobody but herself, and James had come to love that about
her in the past years of following her around. She would not let anyone take claim of her,
or tell her what to do. It was that defiance that made James first fall in love with her.

And here she was, in the halls of Hogwarts, companion in the Head Boy-Head Girl
relationship, crying over some unknown misery that only she knew.

And if what James had learned of her was to hold true, she would not tell her easily what
was bothering her. Or maybe, maybe it was that strange quality about her that remained
nameless that would snap and turn on his prior knowledge, forcing her to tell him exactly
what was wrong.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining a scene that would never happen in which
Lily came bounding into James's open and expecting arms, embracing him, filling his
nostrils with the vanilla scent that always seemed to linger on her. And she would look up
into his eyes dreamily and say –

"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?"

That was not quite what I was thinking, James snarled. But instead of scolding her, he
simply replied, "The same thing you are. Though I suppose I'm not . . . in tears." His voice got quiet, as though he was just realizing how thin the ice was on which he tread.

Dammit, Potter, why do you always have to say the stupidest things in the worst of times?
Gods, do I have the most deplorable timing!

She stood up, her knees wobbling from being inactive for a while. "I'm not . . . I'm not in
tears," Lily replied, scrubbing at her face to remove all signs of her suffering.

"I think you were," James said, adding quietly as an afterthought, "and if you'd tell me, I
can help, or at least try to. If you want me to, that is."

"I wasn't crying!" the red-head raged, standing, fists clenched at her sides.

James took a few steps closer, then a few more, and a few more, until he was right in front
of her. He shakily held out his hand, touching it to her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. He
held his dampened finger in front of her. "Then what's this?"

She turned away from him. "Fine, I was crying, but there's nothing you can do about it.
You can't help. And even if someone could, I surely wouldn't let you do anything about
it, nonetheless tell you, of all people."

"You can talk about it," James said wisely, almost sagely. "It may not help get rid of it,
but it can lessen the burden some. And it doesn't have to be me. I just wish it would be, since we're, you know, partners, and all."

"I all ready told you, I wouldn't talk to you about it, even if it would completely get rid of
it! James Potter, you know as well as anyone does that I hate you and I have hated you
since we first arrived at this school, and I most assuredly won't tell you about my par-"
She gasped. She had said too much. Covering her mouth, she sunk to the floor again,
sliding her hands up to cover her face, dissolving into mourning once more.

An awkward moment passed in which James considered several things that he could do.
He could kneel down beside her and try to get in good with her, comforting her
nonetheless. He also could just walk away, and leave her to her misery. But what kind of
git did that? Or he could get a professor. But that would get him in trouble, and he would
have to answer as to why he and Lily had been out after hours roaming the halls, and he
would probably get both of them in trouble.

So he stuck with option A and bent down next to her, tentatively placing a hand on her
back. "It's okay, Lils," he cooed softly.

Well that was stupid, he told himself. Here she is in tears and I tell her, 'Oh, it's all right
that you're worked into a right state, oh, no, I don't mind at all, things will be all better.'
Obviously, it's not okay, so why did I even tell her that?

He groaned inwardly. He also knew the answer to that one. He had told her that because
he hated to see her upset, he loved her smile, and even if she hated him, and one day he
would wake up and feel a hollow inside of him where his love for her once dwelled, at
this moment, he just wanted her to stop sobbing. It meant the world to him that she was
happy, and right now, she isn't, so I have to do something about it.

"Do you . . . do you want to be alone?" James asked softly.

Lily sobbed louder. "Don't leave me too!"

And just then, she did something that James never would have expected. She turned to
him, grasping the front of his shirt, sobbing into his chest. He did all that he could: he
embraced her, rubbing her back slowly and carefully.

Long moments passed in this way. Lily cried while James whispered words of comfort to
her, holding her close to him. Finally Lily spoke.

"Potter . . . uh, I mean, James, I . . . I can't believe that . . . . Today, when McGonagall called me
down to her . . . to her office during Double Charms, do you . . . do you remember? She .
. . she told me that my . . . my parents were ki . . . killed by . . . by Him. James, my
parents are gone!"

A new wave of hysteria swept over her, and a bout of sympathy overcame him. The boy
held her close.

"I won't leave you," he said, kissing her gently atop the head. "I love you too much. I . . .
I wish I could've done something, Lily. I'm so . . . so sorry, Lily. I wish I could take it
back for you. I really wish I could. I wish that I were strong enough . . . brave enough to
kill Him, now more then ever. So many have suffered because of him! I have to stop it.
Alone or with others."

"I'll help you. I don't want others to have this happen to them."

It wasn't even a whisper. It was too soft to be called that, but it rang out in James's ears as
though it were shouted right at him. Those words were enough to speak volumes for him.
Maybe, just maybe there was a hope that they would be together yet. It was a dim light in
an even dimmer world, but he knew it was there. That's all that mattered to him.

And it was then that James realized why he cared so much about getting into trouble.

He had someone to protect now, someone he truly cared about. Lily wasn't just another
Marauder, not to him. She was more then that. And he had to do whatever he could to
keep her safe.

He would die for her if that was what it meant. Nothing was too great of a price for his love,
and nothing would hold him back from making her happy. He would give all that he had
just to see her in content, to see her at peace.

There would be times when death would be preferred to what they had to go through. And
there would be a time when death would be just what was given to them. But if it meant
that one moment of gladness would be brought to Lily, then James was willing to go
through the suffering, the pain, the torment, the fear, and whatever else he would have to
got through in order to bring it to her.

"Don't worry, Lily," James whispered to her, "I'll always be here for you."

After all, he thought into the late hours of the night, I have somebody to protect now, and I
can't leave her. I'll protect you, Lily.

Forever.

A/N: Short and fluffy, and this is the first time that something's ever been like this for me, so don't tease it. Just review. Nice long reviews. Oh, yeah, please?