Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name

Vilified, crucified, in the human frame

A million candles burning for all the love that never came

You want it darker

We kill the flame

-You Want it Darker, Leonard Cohen

...

The walk to Gryffindor tower was a short one, and James' mind churned all the while with the thoughts of what he had just seen and heard. Amelia's attacker finally had a face, but it was gnarled and badly scarred, beady black eyes under a mop of brown hair. But he didn't look afraid, James thought, he didn't have the look of a cornered animal regretful of his actions. He looked like a man who was as unsure of the facts as James was—confused, a little startled. Uncertain of how to proceed without his superior giving orders.

Before a few days ago, James knew Crouch only by reputation. His father had spoken about him over dinner, told them the rumours around the Ministry. His appointment as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not an altogether unexpected one; Crouch had been a sitting judge for years.

But why was he here?

James had no answer to his query. Out of all the decisions Dumbledore had made as of late, it was one he doubted had anything to do with Dumbledore's thoughts or preferences, but rather that of the Ministry. Why would they interfere with Hogwarts? The Minister was a stout headed chap and would hold Crouch's ear, no doubt if the rumours about Azkaban held any truth. If the Ministry was involved at Hogwarts, was there an infiltrator?

It seemed unlikely to James that Moody had done the crime on his own. It seemed out of character, from what little James knew about him. But if Dumbledore had faith in him, perhaps he had more facts than was willing to divulge. James could claim no personal relationship to Dumbledore, in his years at Hogwarts; he had been to that office for scoldings more often than to conference, James thought with a secret grin. Dumbledore trusted him enough to make him Head Boy, despite what must've been an outcry from the faculty. He had trusted him to get to the bottom of it, and that was precisely what he was going to do.

He approached the Fat Lady and then stumbled at the last minute. Dumbledore had ordered that all students remain in their dormitories, and it was evident at the lack of the early morning breakfast crowd. It had been nearly a week since he had been back in Gryffindor tower, had they changed the password? Given everything that had happened? He imagined they would have, with a kidnapping afoot. He looked left and right, patting his pockets subconsciously before groaning at the realization that he didn't even have the two-way mirror he and Sirius had invented. If he couldn't get the password, it would be a long wait before he saw another Gryffindor.

James took a step forward and cleared his throat. The Fat Lady jumped inside her frame, which upset her goblet and spilled wine down her front.

"Er, Bandersnatch,"

"Right you are," she said, blotting her dress impatiently. The portrait swung on its hinges, and James scrambled through the portrait hole.

The Common Room was crowded with students, more than usual for a Sunday morning. Gryffindors picked over the trays the House Elves had brought up and chatted here and there with their friends. The smell of bacon turned his belly, so he took a piece of toast before looking around for his mates.

Ah, there they are, James thought, taking a sip and smiling as Remus waved him over. The Marauders were in their usual places, but Lily's mates were there too, leaning against the stone fireplace. Lily, he noticed with a smile, was sitting cross-legged on a cushion in front of the only vacant chair.

"Wotcher," Peter said, holding out a plate of sausages. "You hungry, James?"

James groaned and tossed his hand in Peter's direction before collapsing on the couch between Remus and Sirius.

"How was your meeting with Dumbledore?"

"How did you know where I was?"

"Followed you, didn't I?" Remus said, patting his pocket serenely. "You're not exactly stealthy, y' know,"

"Never said I was," James said, somewhat dejectedly. "Maybe I fancied a bit of mystery,"

"Oh, and what's that when it's at home?" Marlene said, her eyes teasing.

"Never mind that!" Alice exclaimed. "What did you find out?"

"Well," James began, "the bloke who kidnapped Amelia is an Auror named Moody,"

"An Auror?"

"Well, I never," said Alice, knitting her brows.

"What did he have to say for himself?" Remus asked.

"He said he wasn't in his right mind, didn't realize she was a student,"

"Moody, eh?" Sirius said, sitting on the arm of his chair thoughtfully. "It sounds familiar. I think he was one of the Ministry personnel on darling Bella's tail, her and her Death Eater pals. Didn't catch them though, dammit,"

"Crouch was incensed," James recalled, "Dumbledore was cool as a cucumber through the whole ordeal, but it's a miracle he didn't get off worse,"

"Do you think he could've faced the Wizengamot?

James nodded. "And they would have been justified in doing so. But Crouch said he'd take care of it."

"Poor sod," Peter said gloomily.

"Poor sod?" said Alice, standing and staring down Peter, who looked like he'd much rather be someplace else. "He attacked Amelia! I don't care what they do to him so long as he never again steps foot in this school!"

"That's not what he meant," Remus said placatingly, but Alice ignored him.

"He attacked her! Mary rushed up and down the stairs with Tony last night and is in more pain than usual for doing so! James split his lip, Sirius has that nasty cut on his arm, and Lily's leg bled for hours last night! He deserves all Crouch can throw at him," Alice said, jutting her finger at Peter. "And more,"

"Alice, sit down," Remus said quietly, seemingly the only one among them to notice that silence had fallen, and near on a hundred Gryffindors were hanging onto Alice's every word. "This isn't the time, nor the place,"

"I agree," Marlene said, downing the rest of her cup. "Shall we go down to the Hospital Wing?"

"Dumbledore told everyone to stay put," Lily said stoutly. "We're the Heads of this school, and should lead by example,"

James considered this, looking up to meet Lily's steady gaze and nodded. "Of course, you're right. I forgot." He moved to sit next to her and whispered in her ear. "Later though, when nobody's looking, I have something to tell you,"

…

A half-hour and a teapot of tea later, the Gryffindors had found more important things to do than hover and one by one; they snuck out of the Common Room to a designated meeting place just outside of the Great Hall.

James' eyes were heavy, and now that the excitement of the night before was beginning to wear off exhaustion was setting in. His jaw stun from the rogue curse Moody had fired at him the night before, and the many cuts and bruises that dotted his body stiffened his movements. His friends were much the same; the wound on Lily's leg seemed to be better, not bleeding any more at the very least, which he found encouraging. James had watched as she pulled up the leg of her dungarees to show Sirius the cut, his heart clenched to see the uneven slice through flesh. He had bandaged it well, and that morning Remus had cast a clever healing spell on it, and it seemed to be healing well.

They entered the Hospital Wing together. Mary was awake, and looking much like herself, but seeing Amelia asleep, they kept their voices low.

"How are you feeling?" Marlene asked, squeezing Mary's hand with a wide smile.

"Better," Mary said, "Not well, but better. Manageable. Tony snuck down to visit while the Matron slept, it was good to see him,"

"Tony?" James asked. "I should like to see him; Dumbledore asked me to— to,"

"To..." Alice continued suggestively.

"To see how he's been getting on," James said in a tone he hoped was convincing. Lily raised an eyebrow, but James kept his expression steady.

"James, he's not your elderly aunt," Sirius chastised. "He's, y' know, Mary's bloke. What's the big secret?"

"It's not like that," James said. "Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on things, that's all,"

"That's all?" Sirius said. "The man couldn't give a fig about you until he made you Head Boy, and now he's giving you secret assignments? What gives?"

"It's not a secret," James insisted. "And not important, either,"

Amelia stirred, likely from the noise as well as the light, and her eyes blinked open. Lily and Alice rushed to her side, and Mary smiled as Marlene sat abruptly at the head of her bed to watch.

Amelia said something, but what it was, James couldn't hear. Lily smiled and brushed her hand over Amelia's hair as she cleared her throat and tried again.

"I heard—I heard that you all went through a kerfuffle last night," Amelia said quietly, and James grinned. "You needn't have. I was quite all right on my own,"

"Of course you were," Remus said. "But we all need our friends, don't we?"

"Friends," Amelia said thoughtfully. "Yes, we do, don't we? I am so thankful for my friends,"

"What did you see?" James pressed, his eyes searching into hers. A surplus of energy pulsed through his veins. If Amelia had seen something, it would be another account of the event; she might even have a description of her attacker. Something felt off about the whole thing, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "What happened on your way back last night?"

"Well, it's a funny thing," Amelia said. "Sometimes—sometimes I think I remember, but then I don't. It all slips away, and I'm not sure what's real and what isn't. I'm not sure what happened."

"Did you see anyone last night?"

"I saw a figure in the hall, tall, most likely a student. He was carrying— a book bag, that's right. He said something, but I haven't the faintest as to what he said. I thought I heard something behind me, and then," Amelia snapped her fingers, and they all jumped. "Then nothing, I remember somebody carrying me, and then waking up in the Hospital Wing. Nothing more,"

"Are you sure that you saw nobody else?"

"What are you implying, James?" Amelia asked, knitting her eyebrows. "I've told you all that I remember. You seem to have more information about my accident than I do,"

"No, it isn't that," Lily soothed, brushing a hand over Amelia's sheets. "Try and get some rest, Ames. We'll visit when we can,"

"You know I don't care for pet names, Lily Evans," Amelia said cooly, and Lily smiled. "I have a name and prefer it to others, funnily enough,"

"See you soon," Mary said wistfully from her bed, "I'll come to see you all when Madame Pomfrey releases me,"

…

"Well," Alice said once they had left the Hospital Wing. "What now?"

"Let's regroup," Sirius suggested before James had the chance. "In the Head dormitory, I don't want to be overheard."

"Right on," Remus said and took off up down the hall, the others in tow.

James opened his mouth to object until he saw Lily, lovely Lily in the dungarees she had worn last weekend, smile at Marlene and Alice, and take to the stairs herself. He didn't want to impugn on her happiness, but didn't she prefer everything how it was? Just the two of them?

Did she not see how wonderful things were when they were alone?

James sighed and followed his friends; his heart wrenching all the while in the loss of all that they had together. Is that how she saw him? A… a pretty face to snog and row with? A friend? A colleague? But she had said it herself, hadn't she?

Sirius turned about and gave James a funny sort of look before stopping on the stairs to wait. "What's up?" He asked when James approached his spot on the stair.

"Nothing,"

"It doesn't look like nothing," Sirius said. "You've been off all morning, what gives?"

"I'm tired, is all," James said, his eyes focused on Lily and her friends. "Could've done with a lie-in,"

They walked up several staircases in silence, and James tried to ignore the way Sirius' eye tried to catch his own every once in a while.

"Are you still cut up about it?" James asked.

"About what?"

"Last night, I said some things I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry for it now,"

"Are you barking?" Sirius asked, turning around suddenly. "Since when does James Potter apologize for something?"

"Well, I'm doing it now, aren't I?" James said, irritated. "Why make a thing about it?"

Remus had reached the door of their dormitory but stopped to let the others through while he held the door. "Is everything alright with you two?" he asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Marvellous, Moony, as always," Sirius said, leaving the others behind in the doorway.

"What was that about?" Remus asked, catching James' eye.

James took an exasperated breath, and Remus sighed before following.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the light streaming through the windows, but when they did, he found his friends sat here and there in and amongst their things looking just as sleepy as he was.

"I know we talked about having a discussion," Marlene said, and a yawn split her jaw before she could continue. "But I'm whacked."

"Can we just go to bed for a bit?" Peter said, a little pleading tone in his voice. "We've been up for almost a day straight."

"I agree," Alice said, gathering her things around her bunk. "Oh, damn, it would be easier just to vanish the lot, wouldn't it?" she said, and promptly did so.

"We should still talk," Sirius said, not moving while the others bustled about collecting their things. "We have work to do,"

"Mate, I'm exhausted," James said. "Amelia's fine, she's safe, and Mary could probably do with more of a rest as it is. It's a Sunday, for Pete's sake. Go to bed; we'll talk later,"

Sirius threw him a steady non-plussed gaze James had long ago taken for indignation. He was annoyed, but James was far too tired to put up much of a fight. Sirius Vanished his things and followed as the others left in pursuit of a warm bed in Gryffindor tower—he hung about for a moment before closing the door behind him. Still, James was too pleased with the sudden turn of events to think much of it; they were alone, finally alone. He turned from the door and joined Lily on the sofa.

"You'll stay, won't you?" Lily said sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Of course," James said, resting his feet on Lily's mattress. "Always,"

Lily yawned and curled her legs up beside her. "We've been through a lot, you and I,"

"More than our fair share, I reckon,"

The fire crackled merrily, and James lifted his arm so it grazed the back of the sofa in a carefully practiced show of nonchalance. She was so warm and soft, and her hair smelled like roses, just the same as it always had.

"I trusted you last night," she began softly. "More than I've ever trusted a man before,"

James' heart seemed to stop; she thought he was a man? And he was, wasn't he? Seventeen in all? He sat up a little taller and lowered his arm to rest on her shoulders. She leant in his chest almost subconsciously, and James grinned ear to ear, pleased with the turn of events.

"And I trusted you," James said and paused. "We make a good team, you and I,"

"I'm still worried about Amelia, though," Lily said. "And Mary, the story doesn't seem to add up. It feels as though we still have half the picture."

"We'll find out more later," James said with a yawn of his own. "I'm in rather desperate need of a wash and then bed,"

"I agree," Lily said, untangling herself and making towards her bedroom. "I need to change, but I'll see you in a minute?"

"Not if I don't see you first,"

…

Twenty minutes later, James emerged from the loo in a cloud of steam, and Lily looked up from her perch on the sofa to see him mostly bare, if not for a towel covering the majority of his modesty. She turned about, not quite as sleepy as she was before.

"Now, what are you blushing for?" James asked, taking a step forward. The towel about his waist dipped low against his hips with the movement, and she struggled to meet his eyes. "It's just me."

"Just you in nothing but a towel, I'll remind you," Lily said, taking hold of the back of the sofa as she stood. "I wasn't expecting it, surprised, is all,"

James laughed a little laugh and tugged one hand through his damp hair. It stood up on end, the back not quite lying flat. But God, he was gorgeous. His arms, once lanky and disproportionate, were sculpted and slim, the place where his collarbones met his shoulders defined, little drips of water collected against the hollow of his throat. His arms were freckled and pale, his hands long-fingered and slender. He was Adonis, and if not for the faint sense of her dignity, she might ogle him all day long.

"See something you like, Evans?" James said, pulling his mouth into a half-smile.

"I—I," Lily said, and then swallowed. "We need to talk... preferably clothed, ta,"

"Talk?" James asked.

"Yes, talk," Lily said. "About y' know,"

James looked puzzled, and Lily sighed. "Sleeping, James. We need to talk about sleeping,"

"What about it?"

"Was last night," she swallowed, "was last night to be the new normal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sleeping," she said. "Sleeping…sleeping like we did last night,"

"You mean together?"

"Yes, I suppose I do,"

James swallowed. "If it's…if it's what you want. But only if it's what you want."

"I do," she said, her voice steady and sure. "Lately, I've not been sure of much, but I liked it. Sleeping in the same bed as you."

"Even with everything going on?

"I think it's important to make our memories," Lily said, taking a step forward. "Don't you agree?"

"And do you mean," James asked, his eyes boring holes into her own. "Just sleeping? Sleeping together, or do you mean- oomph,"

Lily stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him.

…

He struggled to keep the towel secured as she kissed him, standing on tiptoes all pressed up against him. He tried to relax, but what if it slipped? What would she do? How would she react? Would she be—would she be pleased with what she saw? Or, more likely, would she blush and change the subject?

Her hands moved up and down his back, her nails catching in a way that turned his brain to mush. He pulled back for a minute and looked at her with such love in his eyes, she was so small and sleepy and still kissing him the way that she was.

"Not that I don't love this," James said a minute later. "But I think we'd best get you to bed,"

He blushed, not realizing the implications of what he had said. He pulled his towel higher around his hips, trying to push back his growing feelings of arousal that always seemed to be present around her these days. Lily looked up at him and smiled, kissing him on the cheek before walking towards the sofa.

"Get dressed," she said with a laugh. "I'll meet you in your room in a minute."

"See you in a minute, Evans,"

...

By the time Lily knocked on his door, James had changed into his pyjamas and was standing in his bedroom, seemingly lost in his own space. He looked up as she knocked, and when she opened the door, she was nearly regretting asking it. Was it too bold of her? Too soon? One shouldn't be this nervous, not after all they had been through. And it was just sleeping, after all. There would be nothing improper about it. Just two mates, sleeping. In the same bed. Nothing to worry about.

"Can I come in?" she said softly, standing in the doorway.

"Course," he said, moving aside as she entered the room. "Yeah, of course."

She sat on his bed, the sheets neatly arranged from what they had been a minute ago. And the room was spotless; his broom was hung over the doorway, and his personal effects were lined up neatly on the chifferobe. His shoes were against the wall, laces tied. He was neat, and by all intentions, had made an effort to make it nice for her.

His hair was still wet, and that look of slight panic had yet to leave his face. Lily patted the mattress next to her, and he sat, his hands knotted in his lap.

"Just sleeping, right?" Lily said, taking one of his hands in her own. "Nothing to be nervous about,"

"Right," James said. "It's not every day that someone like—someone like you sleeps with me. In bed! Sleeps in my bed!"

Lily laughed, kissed his cheek. "I bet,"

"That's not what I meant," James moaned, falling back against the sheets in abject mortification.

"If it makes you feel any better, it's not every day someone like you sleeps in the same bed as me, either," Lily said, leaning back with him.

He reached out a hand, curling up against her like it was natural like they had done this every night for the whole of their lives. He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear and kissed her cheek. "I love seeing you like this," he said quietly. "In your jimjams, I like knowing that I'm the only man who gets to see you like this,"

Lily flushed, her eyes wide with his admission. "Do you truly?"

"I do, I like you best like this when we're alone," James said, swallowing, looking over at her after a moment of hesitation. "I like knowing—I like knowing that we can be honest with one another, that there are no secrets, nothing hidden. I like knowing that I'm the only man who gets to kiss you,"

Lily smiled as he kissed her forehead, and then again as he pulled the sheets over them, and as they fell asleep, they moved closer together than they ever had been before.

...

"James," she whispered sometime later, the sun bright from the high windows. She curled up behind him and put her arms around his belly, but he was still asleep. He moved suddenly, and his mouth opened soundlessly before he tightened himself into a ball, his eyes clenched shut, and then thrashed about in his bed. Lily reached for him, but he was unresponsive.

"James?" She said, shaking his shoulder. "James, are you okay?"

He rolled over and clung to her, his arms around her like a vice. She let herself be moved, and when he settled back against the sheets, she curled up in his arms, more concerned than she had been before. He muttered something, but she wasn't able to catch it, and when she turned to face him, tears dangled off of his eyelashes, and his face was tight in pain.

"James," she said, leaning forward with her hands on either side of his face. "James, wake up, you're having a nightmare,"

His eyes peeled open slowly, and he looked embarrassed and turned away. "I'm sorry for waking you,"

"Don't be sorry," Lily said, sitting up so she could see him. "God, James, never be sorry for having a nightmare. Are you okay?"

"I will be," he said, facing the wall. "Usually I can sleep through them,"

"I'm sorry you have to go through that," she said, brushing a curl away from his face. He clenched his eyes shut and tucked further into himself. "James, it's not—it's not shameful."

"Isn't it?" he said, his face drawn. "I'm a grown man, an adult. I shouldn't have them anymore,"

Lily sighed. "I don't think that's how it works,"

"They're pointless, they have no merit, but I can't help—," he sighed and then turned to face her, and she broke inside watching him wipe away his tears with a rough hand. "It was about you; they're usually about you. Or my mates, but since that fight with Moody, they've gotten worse. You were hurt, and you—and you died. I watched you die; I wasn't able to save you."

"I'm right here, James," she said quietly, kissing his cheek and taking his hand. "I'm here, and I'm not going to leave you."

"You can't know that," James said shortly.

"No, but here's what I do know," Lily said, "We're mates, yeah? You have friends, and a burden is best shared, not alone."

"But it's not yours to bear," James said stoutly, rolling over. "Go back to sleep, Evans,"

Lily turned their conversation over in her mind as she dropped back to the sheets. His nightmares were troublesome, especially if he'd had them for some time. It was so like him to worry over his friends, but now that true and real enemies had come and gone, they had more merit than they ever had before. They had been in a dangerous situation and had things not turned out well; there was the genuine possibility that she or one of their friends could have been seriously hurt. More than hurt, they could've died last night, and no one would've ever known what had happened to them.

She rolled over, her worries eating away at her. James' form was tight, he tucked into a ball facing the wall, but his breathing was deep and even. She rolled over herself and fell asleep with tears in her eyes.

...

An hour or so past before James woke up, and he found Lily already awake, sitting up against the headboard with a book. He didn't know how to face her, with his nightmare, with his embarrassment at waking her. He had tried to make this good for her, and he had spoiled everything with a stupid dream. She couldn't know how much this meant to him, her sleeping with him, staying with him. Even after how he had acted yesterday, she had still stayed. Lily didn't leave him to nightmare alone.

But wasn't that the worst of it? Hadn't he let her down by letting her see him like that? What did she think of him? That he was weak? Incapable? He hated feeling lesser to her; he felt so bare in her eyes.

What did she think of him? James Potter, seemingly capable of it all until the shadows come? Capable until he falls asleep? He couldn't—wouldn't. His friends needed him to be there for them, and he couldn't bear considering the alternative.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked politely, and Lily turned the page without looking up.

"That move you pulled last night was bullshit," Lily said, turning the page of her novel without looking up.

James sat up, his face drawn. "I didn't mean to bother you. It's my problem to deal with,"

"No, it's not," she said, putting down her book. "And it breaks my heart that you don't see it as I do. You're not an island; you have friends that care about you! I care about you! God, James, I want you to feel that you can be honest with me too,"

James mumbled something, looking down at his lap.

"What was that?"

"I'm not very good at being honest with birds," he said, louder this time. "But I'm not ready, not yet. I promise I will be; I want to be better for you,"

"You need to be honest with yourself before you can be honest with me," Lily said, "and I won't push you, and it doesn't have to be me you talk to about this, but you need to tell somebody, James. Tell the wall for all I care, but keeping it bottled up inside isn't healthy!"

"It's just—it's selfish, you'd resent me,"

"Would I?" Lily answered, running her hands through his hair, separating and smoothing his curls. "Well, we'll never know if you don't tell me,"

James sighed, wriggling himself out of the sheets if only to give Lily a sense of impending doom.

"I was upset if you must know,"

"Upset? Why?"

"I felt…no it's no good. I'd feel like a fool,"

"James," Lily said, sitting up herself. "You should never feel foolish telling someone you care about your feelings. No matter how silly. We just went over this,"

"I don't think my feelings are silly," James said, fixing his eyes on his lap. "I would hate for you to see me how I thought this afternoon. It's below me, below you to hear it."

"I won't take self-deprecation from you," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. It was stubborn, though, and stayed where it was. "That's below me to hear,"

"I didn't like your friends, in here with us," he said rather quickly, catching her eye before fixing down at his lap once more. "It's far nicer when it's just us,"

"And?"

James sputtered, and then paused, fiddling with his hands the way she did when she was nervous. "I knew you'd take it the wrong way,"

"I'm sorry, but is there a better way to take it?"

"They were butting in, taking up space, and quite uninvited, I could add,"

"James, you can't possibly be serious," said Lily. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,"

"If you would just listen—,"

"No, you listen," Lily said, rising to her knees and then her feet. "Listen to me. This relationship of ours has been a whirlwind of misunderstands and misconceptions, but this takes the lot. I am not a prize to be won! I have worth other than that as your arm candy, thank you very much. And what's more, are my friends to be the crumbs you scrape from your plate next? My dorm mates? Was the rescue of Amelia nothing more than a gallant attempt to win my hand?"

"Win your hand? Listen to yourself—,"

"No, you listen. I've had it up to my eyeballs with this and enough is enough. I've had enough! What do you want from me, James? Do you want me to be your girlfriend? A companion? Someone, to hold captive while you go off and live your life?"

"Lils, you misunderstand me,"

"Do I?" Lily said, crossing her arms. "Do I indeed?"

"You are," James repeated, standing. He reached for her arms, but she wrenched them away. "I care about you, and I want us to be together. In whatever form that may be,"

"But you want me just to yourself, and you don't want to be honest with me,"

James sighed, closing his eyes. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that,"

"Then what did you mean?"

"I want us to be happy, as happy as two people can be together,"

"So, you want us to have sex and be done with it?"

"Ever the romantic," James said, but his heart nearly bounded out of his chest, hearing those words coming from her lips. Merlin, did she truly?

"Well…" Lily asked with a tone in her voice.

"Well, what?"

Lily rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist, the arm of her abandoned dressing gown levitated before slapping him across the face.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, casting a non-verbal charm to fend off her advances. "Can we talk about this?"

"Are you going to think with your brain or your lower extremities?"

"My brain, I should think," James said, blushing.

"You don't understand," she said firmly, and he struggled to meet her eyes. "I won't be in a relationship like that, not ever. I am not yours, nor am I anybody else. I spent too many years trying to be what others expected of me. To be smarter, kinder, a better sister, an ideal daughter. I don't intend to please my husband, should one come along, and I certainly don't intend to please you. I am myself unto myself, and I won't change to make you happy. I'm sorry, but I won't,"

"I…I don't expect you to. I'm more sorry than you know if you thought otherwise of me. I just think I know what's best, that's all."

"Oho," Lily said, a new sort of fire in her eyes. "Do you now?"

"Yes," James said, seemingly unaware of the fire burning in her expression. "We make each other happy, don't we? Shouldn't we keep making one another happy? Only if you're happy, I know I would be too. And we're happiest together, so shouldn't we stay together? It's only logical,"

"Logical, is it?" Lily said, taking a step forward. "Look, I don't want to fight with you. Lord knows we've done more than our fair share. But if you think I'm about to lie down and take this masochistic bullshit from you, you of all people— you've another thing coming."

"I thought we had each other's backs?"

"And I thought you said you wouldn't make me choose my friends over you!" Lily said, her eyes blazing. "What kind of a shit move is that?"

"I didn't make you choose—,"

"Didn't you?" Lily said, her hands gesturing widely in anger. "We were having fun, staying in our dormitory, staying together, and you had to be the ball crusher and kick them out! Without asking, may I add, given that this dormitory is fifty percent mine."

"All I'm asking is that we take some time to ourselves, too," James said, his hands making little placating motions to try and calm her down, which were to no avail. She seemed angrier than she had before. "Everything was so good before. And, Dumbledore wants me to figure out why Moody cursed Amelia, which I'll need your help with,"

"You're seventeen years old!" Lily exclaimed in frustration. "Sometimes I think you forget that. There are teachers, Aurors. I'm sorry, but Dumbledore is wrong, this isn't your job!"

"I'm not alone," James said, his eyes on his trainers. "I have you, don't I?"

"What about your Marauders?"

James paused. "What about them?"

"They're your best mates? You do everything together? Just last week, you wouldn't have given me the light of day had Sirius fucking Black not given the okay. I'm not anything, not anything to you, or anybody else, okay? We're not an item, we're not exclusive, and we're not going to be honest with one another, we've no reason to drag this out any further than we have to. I should ask McGonagall to put us back in our own—,"

James stepped forward, took hold of her waist, and kissed her, not quietly or demurely, but with purpose and intention. He squeezed his eyes shut as a tear slipped past unannounced and framed her face with his hands, his heart broke as her own hands dangled absently by her sides, and her mouth closed against his own. He leaned forward, forehead to forehead, and tried to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much all of this meant to him, even after all that had happened. She needed to know that she was it for him; this was inevitable. He'd love no one as much as he loved her.

"Baby," he whispered, his head resting on her shoulder. "Don't tell me that all love is bound for catastrophe,"

Something quiet gripped James' heart, and he stepped back, struggling to keep tears from slipping past unwelcome and unannounced. He sniffed and turned around.

"I think," Lily said, swallowed and looked up. Her eyes were swimming with an emotion he didn't recognize. "I'm tired; we'll talk about this when we're reasonable."

James stood and watched while she walked away, down the corridor and out of sight.

…

James stood for longer than he'd admit to in the doorway of his bedroom, not willing to turn around and face a bed without her in it. She had only slept in here for a night, but the evidence of their brief cohabitation littered every available surface. Her novel sat open on the side table, it's spine peeling and cracking from overuse. The smell of her perfume hung lightly in the air, dancing on the late afternoon sunbeams. He put a hand on her side of the bed, and the sheets were still warm.

James slipped into the Common Room, his hand resting on his doorframe. Lily's scrunchies were there, her reading glasses and school books, tangled in, and amongst his things. A letter, half-written, was sitting on the desk. The rubbish from their impromptu slumber party angered him, the leftover sheets and clothes of his friends littered all around him. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and Vanished the lot, and then sat with a sniff on the sofa, head in his hands.

It was too much, too much with her, too much to be without her. James remembered the way her hair hung in a curtain around them last night, the feeling of her thighs between his knees, the heat of her breath against his lips; kisses shared too numerous to count. How wonderful, he thought, to have too many happy memories to count.

Lily's mattresses and sheets littered the space beside the hearth, and even after she was gone, the smell of her perfume lingered on his pillow. He remembered the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth as cream, the tickle as her hair ran across his neck—

God, he missed her. She was just down the hall, but he missed her as much as if she was on another planet. He missed her, and he loved her, and he didn't know if he could survive missing her the way he did now. She was fiery and personable and angry. Angry with him, but for what? Didn't he know best? James didn't know what to think, of her, their relationship, of any of this. He had always thought love was a straightforward affair; love was natural and comfortable and complimentary. But with Lily, it wasn't. It wasn't any of those things. It was simple when they were younger, but his love for her bordered on the excessive and then receded as if it was an addiction and not a love affair.

There was a time when he knew everything there was to know about her. She took porridge, brown sugar, and a little dip of cream for breakfast. Never nutmeg, he knew. She was allergic. She wore tortoiseshell reading glasses in the Common Room and let them slip down her nose while she was deep in thought. He didn't spy on her, not really, but one of the chiefest reasons behind the creation of the Marauder's Map was his desire to know where she was. Watching her little footsteps move about on the map provided him with a strange sense of calm. Evans was safe. She was okay. There was a war going on outside, but so long as he could keep Lily Rosamund Evans safe, he would be okay too.

By sixth year, his love for her had stagnated, a still pool of thought. It was when the Prophet began being infiltrated by the Ministry, and owls returned hurt and missing their post. The news (when it was truthful) was bleak. The war was a gradual thing, slow-moving and but always coming nearer. There was no sudden flood; it was something closer to a slippage, each day a shade murkier than the one before.

Throughout the uncertainty, Hogwarts remained isolated, an island in the storm. Dumbledore was the figurehead he always had been, and as bad as things seemed, they had Dumbledore. The best wizard the world had seen in generations, and for the moment, Hogwarts was safe. But the fear and anticipation of the years to come was tangible, thick in the air. Muggy and damp to the touch. The time now to keep friends close and enemies that much closer.

Sixth year was when her dad died. Early February, he had gone out to collect the paper and was hit by a Muggle car. Later, they told her that he had died instantly; there was nothing to be done. The light went out in her eyes, and for weeks she didn't say a word to him, to anyone. His death had hollowed her from the inside out; her dad was gone, and he'd never come back for her. She had told him then that she wasn't sure if she was going to the funeral. It'd be too much, she'd said. She had rowed with her sister, and her mother was so lost in herself that her visit wouldn't have amounted too much. There's no use, she had told him, in going back. Hogwarts was where she belonged.

She cut her hair, sheared it with a quick, un-remorseful severing charm, and she hadn't quite been the same since. It was still wavy, still red and beautiful, but the brightness inside of her has been exhaled— snuffed out, and executed. Her father was dead, and the person she had been would never come back.

The man who taught her chess and Scrabble and how to drive a Muggle car was gone, and she might never be the woman she once was. Brave and firm and steadfast always, but always crumbling; a sail in the wind a moment from blowing away.

For months she was inconsolable, quiet, and downcast. She didn't leave her dormitory for much, Alice brought her schoolwork and Marlene her meals, and for months he looked up whenever they entered the room, dying for just a look of her. He had heard that Madame Pomfrey had given her something to sleep. Not that he was watching her, but for hours at a time, he'd follow her stagnant footprints on the map, will her to get up, to keep living. Mr. Evans would never want his daughter to die herself on his account.

Two weeks later, on a Tuesday in the middle of March, she came to the Common Room, then to classes and meals, and he exhaled gratefully at her return. But something had changed, the easiness she had once worn was replaced with stillness, and the friendly smiles they had once shared had yet to return. She didn't laugh in the corridors and was quieter in classes. There was silence to and fro, and James felt the once comforting stone walls of Hogwarts close in on him, still and sure no longer. They all saw less and less of Dumbledore as the term progressed, and a rumour was that he was rallying a group of wizards and witches to fight Voldemort. James didn't pay much attention to rumours, but Dumbledore's absence troubled him; there was no reason to be away if not for an extended purpose. Especially for as long as he had.

Sirius held no stock in it either, told him he was looking for a problem where there wasn't one. Enough was going on as it was before he went digging for trouble. He wasn't twelve and stupid anymore, and James Potter was getting too old to think that the world had much good left in it as it was. Death came to all, and to the good and defenceless, it came first.

…

Hours past and James went down to dinner alone, bringing her up a plate before retiring to his desk. He sighed, head in his hands as he considered the situation. Should he apologize? Make right with her? He wanted to be the man she deserved, but was it right to change his principles for her? Were they gears, rusted in places that needed sprucing up, unable to spin together if they didn't make changes? She was right, though, on more than one count. He was childish, impugning on ignorant when it came to facts he didn't understand. But was she not temperamental? And judgemental? Was she as imperfect as he, and as unworthy of this treatment as any other? Did he love her as he thought she should be and not as she was? He knew that she was angry about wanting the two of them to spend more time together, but wasn't it just natural? She had come within inches of danger last night, and his heart clenched to think about what could've happened had Marlene not been there to block it. He hated to think that all this might be in vain, that their differences could be irreconcilable.

The door of Lily's dormitory creaked open, and she appeared, lovely as ever in jimjams and a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry I said the things that I did," she began, walking towards him. "I don't think— I don't think that, well, I shouldn't have said that you aren't there for your friends, but I'm worried that it wasn't coming from a good place."

James looked down at his hands, feeling the familiar prickling of tears behind his eyes. "I'm sorry too,"

They stood in silence, too far apart and too close together simultaneously. James wanted nothing more than to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her worries away. But it wasn't possible, not now and not ever. Kissing was a distraction, he thought, passion masked as bareness, but physical nearness couldn't replace honesty.

"I was afraid," he began, trying to ignore the swell of tears in his eyes. "I was afraid that I'm not strong enough to protect you, I was scared that I could fight for my life, and we could still lose. Rescuing Amelia—Evans, it was a reminder that tomorrow is promised to nobody, and I could lose my friends if I weren't there for them. But I could lose them without lifting a finger if I'm not honest with them."

"I'm sorry too," Lily said, "I'm not very good at being honest, either. But I promise to work on it, and be honest with my friends about the things that bother me,"

They collapsed in on one another, kisses and tears exchanged in equal measure, and the sun set with scarlet beams over two lovers tangled in each other's arms.