The morning dawned quickly, and by the time they had sorted out clothes for the day, it was near time to go down for breakfast. James went into the loo to shave, and Lily slipped in after him with a hairbrush in her hands.

He tried not to think about how much of her he had seen when they were getting out of bed, most likely more than she had intended. She might not have meant to, but hadn't she known it could happen? They were kissing, touching, and she was wearing a nightgown; it was more than he could have expected. His breath had caught, but she didn't seem to notice. James turned towards the mirror, his eye catching her busying herself at the vanity.

She pulled out a pink bottle and a comb and began brushing her hair. James had loved her hair from the moment he met her; it was so red and bright and golden, thick and wavy, and he had spent longer than he'd admit to watching that hair from afar. She fiddled with it, curling pieces between her fingers as she brushed it, and he nearly dropped his shaving brush as he applied shaving foam, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

They got ready for the day in silence, and James shaved wondering if she liked him like this, how manly it was, shaving in front of her. Lily pulled out a bottle of perfume, and she tried not to watch him in the reflection, his shoulders moving as he shaved, the strong arch of his spine, the way he smiled at her in the reflection...

Never before had he admired the steps and procedures for birds to get ready in the morning. He had never cared much previously or indeed given it more than a passing thought, but it was an art, wasn't it? The way that certain powders went to certain places, the application of mascara and rouge, just enough to be visible but not too much to be overpowering. It was so intricate, and the way her eyebrows scrunched together while she focused…

He sighed, rinsing his razor in the sink.

Lily was focused, not necessarily on the task at hand, but on the vision just over her shoulder. God, he was a piece, she thought as she sprayed perfume on her hairbrush. His back was strong and thickly muscled, moving about as he shaved. His hair was tousled and messy, messier from her hands, she thought with a secret smile. Messy from the ten-minute snogging session they had so recently pulled themselves from. She was so focused on her covert admiration that she jumped when he appeared behind her.

"May I?"

"Sorry?"

"Can I—can I brush your hair?"

Lily gave him an odd look, but passed him the comb nonetheless, a roll of pleasure running through her like water. "If you'd like, it's a mess."

"I don't mind," James said a little quickly, sectioning her hair carefully. "I like your hair,"

"Yeah?"

"It's so bright in the sunlight," James said, pulling it through with care. "Like sunflowers,"

She smiled as he went to work, eyebrows drawn as he concentrated on his task. Once she explained what her detangler was, he sprayed each piece carefully before brushing it through. Lily curled her toes under her vanity stool, her hands framing her face as she watched him at work. He brushed her hair with care in every stroke, from root to tip, and finally brushed it through.

"It's just as well," James said, smiling at her through the mirror. "Fixing your hair that is, after all that my hands have done to you,"

"I liked it," Lily said quietly, "your hands in my hair. I liked it a lot,"

James grinned and leaned down over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck with his lips. His touch sent fireworks racing down her body. "You've no idea what these hands can do,"

Lily shivered and smiled widely, her skin erupting in gooseflesh as he nuzzled her neck, his hands gently pulling the hair from her shoulders. James kissed the spot just behind her ear, and she pushed against him almost instinctively. She felt him grinning against her neck, and when he turned, it was as if he was a different person, someone with love in every touch, devotion in the way he spoke with her. His hands spanned her waist, and he kissed her neck before standing.

"May I?"

Lily nodded, not quite sure what she had agreed to.

He pulled her hair behind her and separated it carefully, twisting his hand to pull it into a twist at the base of her neck, his fingers smooth and euphoric against her scalp. He twisted it against itself and secured the lot with pins from a bin on her vanity.

"There," he said, holding up a mirror so she could see his work. "Neat and tidy,"

It was more than that, she thought with a smile. It was beautiful, a complicated little twist that looked so graceful and elegant that she turned her head back and forth to see the full effect.

"Thank you," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I didn't know you could fix hair,"

"I've been fixing Sirius' for years," he said, brushing his nose with the tip of his finger. He smiled deviously and pulled out her chair for her as she stood. "Don't go spilling my secrets, Lily Evans,"

"I'll be silent as the grave," Lily said, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him. "Thank you,"

"I'd do your hair for the rest of your life if you'd let me," James said without thinking, only catching himself at the last minute. Damn it; he thought, so much for being suave. "I mean—,"

"I would love that," she said, and he grinned.

….

By the time James and Lily found themselves on benches in the Great Hall, Sirius had been seething for hours. A thick letter had arrived for him in the morning post, one of the few to make it through the rigorous screening process the Ministry of Magic was rumoured to be involved in. The lack of post itself wasn't exceptional news, Sirius had no one to write to at home one way or another. And now that James was otherwise occupied, he had yet to answer Mr. Potter's letter from a month ago.

He had finished his homework for the next two weeks quickly and correctly, feeling the loss of James' witty banter as he wrote. Sirius was used to his steady presence, the irritating way he tapped his quill against the parchment when he thought. Without him, without Quidditch and pranking Snape, Sirius's life was filled with empty hours. He wondered in his loneliest moments if James even missed him, up in the Head's dormitory with Evans. The others were gone too, otherwise occupied.

Remus was still recovering in the Hospital Wing from the full moon, and Peter was swamped with Muggle Studies homework Sirius couldn't be bothered helping him with. James and Lily looked so happy it made him nearly sick with jealousy, were they not best mates? Friends and Marauders until the end? Since when was some bird more important than their friendship?

Sirius stabbed his porridge with the tip of his spoon; the letter tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

A sudden thought bothered him enough that he clenched his spoon tighter. What if James didn't make up before the Christmas hols? In was nearing the third week of November. He wasn't about to invite himself to the Potter's uninvited, but the thought of his last Christmas at Hogwarts spent alone was a miserable one. If only James would apologize, everything could go back to normal.

"What's that, mate?" James said, sliding into the bench across from him. "Did you get a letter?"

Sirius looked up with a blank expression. "None of your damn business,"

"Pardon me for asking," James responded icily.

"Come on, boys, make nice," piped in Marlene from beside Lily.

"No chance of that," Sirius said, taking one last sip of coffee before standing. "James has much more important matters at hand than my post,"

Before James could respond, Sirius left without a word, his footsteps heavy against the flagstones.

"What was that about?" Alice asked, watching his retreating form. "It's not like him,"

"He's a prat," James spat, and Lily laid a hand on his arm. "Who cares what he has to say?"

"Well, I do for a start," Lily said abruptly, and James scoffed. "And so do you, this is going to eat your friendship alive if you don't make peace,"

"He's someone in need of a good listener; I'd say," Mary said, taking a sip of tea. "I'd volunteer myself, but something tells me he'd see it as a charity,"

"It's his pride from telling me what's eating him," James said. "If he'd only apologize, everything would be fine. I've done nothing wrong,"

Peter offered a sideways glance, and James sighed. "He's just sulking, he'll get over it, and we'll move on. Just as we always have before,"

"You should still talk to him," Alice urged.

"If he cared about our friendship, he'd apologize. This row is his fault. I have more important things to deal with,"

The lot of them rose to leave as the bell for the first-period rung. Marlene and Alice followed the rest exiting the Great Hall, but Lily stopped James with a stern glance.

"What's more important than Sirius to you, huh?" Lily asked, and he sat down with a sigh.

"If he cared—,"

"That's bullshit, and you know it," she said, the simplicity of that morning gone. James hated that it was gone. "I don't know what you said to him when McGonagall caught us in the Room of Requirement, but it's eating you alive!"

"He crossed a line, Lily," James said firmly. "It's all so new, you and I, and—and Sirius isn't used to it. We're best mates, and I thought that what we had was enough for him, but he's being unreasonable,"

"He lied for you! For all of us! To keep us out of detention, and by keeping him at arm's length, you're drawing out the problem. " Lily sighed and looked up at him in a way that made it difficult to look away. "Don't burn your bridges. Because once you do, and even if you didn't intend to, there's no going back,"

…

An hour later, a double Potions lesson began with increased tension. James and Sirius sat on opposite sides of their table, both decidedly facing the other direction as Slughorn set their assignment. An exhausted Remus cautiously set up his burner next to Sirius, unperturbed of Sirius' opinion to their proximity. Remus looked over his shoulder at where Lily, Marlene and Alice were, unhappy with the sullen look James fixed on his cauldron. Remus hadn't heard the full extent of their fight outside of the Room of Requirement but had surmised its point of disconnect. Sirius had lied for them, that much was true. But so far as he knew, Sirius had done it for himself just as much as he had done it for anybody else. To lie baldly to a teacher was a skill only Sirius (and sometimes James) had the gall to pull off. But it wasn't the lying that angered Sirius; it was something more. Something deeper, it had to be more than that. James didn't care if a back road had to be taken to achieve a goal, but only to the extent that it didn't hurt anybody. But Sirius was different, Sirius didn't care who he hurt so long as he acted in what he believed to be his friends' best interest. And that list was growing smaller by the day. Lupin turned to face Sirius, his face drawn and unresponsive; he'd be kidding himself if Evans made the cut.

Sirius was jealous.

Slughorn set them to work on a potion he had spoken about for months, something a bit unorthodox he said with a wheezy chortle, but nothing beyond the expectations of the N.E.W.T. class. The Polyjuce potion.

Truth be told, he and the Marauders had attempted (and viscously failed) making this particular potion in third year to escape detention. None of them were particularly gifted potioneers if the results were anything to go by, but the particulars of how to brew it were familiar. He pulled out his textbook and began. But Remus' attention was divided, he spent the majority of the lesson with his gaze torn between Sirius and James sitting on opposite ends of their table. They were supposed to be preparing the fluxweed, but while James looked busy, Sirius had done little more than stared holes into Lily's head. Remus sighed loudly, but neither seemed to notice.

"Out with it," Remus said baldly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius said, twiddling his knife between his fingers.

"No?" Remus said. "Because I do. You lied for us, a month ago, when we rescued Amelia and escaped the Room of Requirement. You lied to McGonagall and the rest of them and expected praise, and when you didn't receive any, you slunk into a mood you've yet to surface from. Is that fair?"

"Mind your own business, Lupin," Sirius said shortly, leaving the table for the potions cupboard.

Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius left, and when James did the same, Remus cleared his throat.

"What?" James said.

"You're not any better!" Remus exclaimed. "Your best mate is feeling abandoned, and you've done nothing to fix it. You're just as guilty as he is,"

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yep,"

"See matters from my side, for a minute, will you? I've been in love with Lily for three years. By a twist of fate, she and I moved in together to a dormitory, alone—,"

"So, because you two shacked up together, it's okay to abandon him?"

"That's not—,"

"Isn't it?" Remus said. "You might like Lily, and you might even love her, but you loved Sirius first. And I think you'd regret it forever if you gained her but lost him,"

"I'm not losing anybody," James retorted, stirring his potion carefully.

"Best not do so by accident then," Remus said dryly.

...

It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon by the time Lily walked down the corridor with Mary and Marlene. They were quite happily recounting their History of Magic lesson of the day (or to be more specific, the uncommon occurrence of an unusually short History of Magic lesson, due in part—if not in full—by the sudden appearance of the resident Poltergeist and a smash of a cabinet on Professor Binns' desk). While Binns himself was relatively unperturbed by the unexpected turn of events, the ensuing dust cloud and colossal mess of splintered wood ended their class earlier than expected.

They turned the corner—talking all the while about the mountain of homework to accomplish before the weeks' end—and took one of the shortcuts James had shown them in the weeks prior almost automatically, emerging not a minute later on the seventh floor. They didn't pass by the gargoyle corridor, but it strayed into Lily's thoughts as they walked towards Muggle Studies. The mission Dumbledore had given James bothered her, this business with Snape and her sister had made her somewhat less trusting of the establishment over the years. It seemed not altogether outside the realm of possibility that Dumbledore was assigning James a task that was dangerous, uncommonly so. He may be Head Boy at Dumbledore's recommendation, but wasn't it the teachers' responsibility and that of the Ministry of Magic to do the sleuthing? James was uncommonly loyal, trusting to the point of fault, and she loved him for it. But not all those he trusted were worthy of it, and that worried her.

Amelia had recovered, but her memory of her kidnapping remained foggy. She had no clear recollection of her attacker, not quite able to match the voice nor the appearance of her kidnapper to Moody, or to anybody else for that matter. The lacerations about her wrists and neck had long since faded, and the only remaining symptom of all that unpleasantness was a reoccurring habit to look around for enemies seen or unseen. Her wand was held tightly in her hand when they walked about the castle, close at hand when stationary. Lily and the others said nothing, if anyone was warranted a healthy paranoia of kidnapping, it would be Amelia.

Alice didn't seem to notice Lily's train of thought, however, and her eyes strayed to the other end of the classroom where Frank Longbottom sat chatting with his dormitory mates.

Lily didn't think that Frank was anything particularly lovely to look at, he was tall and rather chiselled compared to where he was even a year ago, but he was sweet and quiet where James was clever and quick. His hair was thick, blonde and curling just so about his ears. His eyes were clear and hazel, and his build tall but not stocky. She knew that Alice was drawn to him in a way she hadn't to the other boys she had fancied. It hadn't escaped her notice that Alice was more likely to be found in the library when Frank was between classes, but it was sweet. Lily could never claim any sort of deferential relationship with her former dormitory mate, but she loved Alice too much to lose herself over some boy.

Hadn't her friends loved her too much when she fancied James from afar?

That was different, she thought dismissively, sitting down and tossing her hair over her shoulder. James instigated it, and she had just slipped into his love, gave in. She would never forget herself for a boy, even a boy like James Potter.

From beside her, Alice sighed as Frank laughed, and sat some rows in front of them. He was cute, but cute in a way that distinguished him from friend to boyfriend material.

Professor Vestra swept into the classroom and tapped her wand on the chart suspended from the ceiling. They spent the next hour pouring over the star charts they were supposed to hand in at the end of the week, leaving little time for gazing longingly at their classmates, even if they wanted to.

N.E.W.T. lessons were hard to get used to; they were unlike their O.W.L.S. in a way she couldn't have predicted. While their lessons had increased in length (three of them were now doubles twice a week) but also in course load. Transfiguration and Charms were the usual suspects, but Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures, as well as Herbology had also increased in their tenacity. She missed the early years of their Hogwarts school days when an afternoon might be spent in front of the loch or the Quidditch pitch with no feelings of anxiety or lost time. But with age had also come new responsibilities; it had brought her Headship, and it had brought her to James. She wasn't in much of a position to complain.

They had only seven months until graduation, with their futures hanging hazy and indeterminate in the balance.

Their fifth year had brought career discussions with their Heads of House, and Lily's conversation with McGonagall was colourful; her half-developed hopes and dreams had been juxtaposed with doses of gently delivered reality. She had good grades, especially in Charms and Potions, and if she put in the extra effort before the exams at the end of the year, McGonagall had said, her future could be anything she wanted it to be. The pamphlets for Healing and banking didn't particularly interest her, nor did the positions of potion master or herbologist. As a child, she had considered teaching, but now she wasn't sure.

"You don't have to make the decision now," McGonagall had said. "I'd recommend you take the basics, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Defence, your grades for Muggle Studies are strong, as are those for Herbology. Leave your options open for when the decision has to be made, lest it is made for you,"

She had been right, of course. That rosy future she had imagined for herself at fifteen was never meant to be.

It was unlikely that full classes would resume at Hogwarts next year if the castle were to open at all. The war was coming closer, and those attacks Dumbledore had told them about in Hogsmeade were coming closer day by day. The Death Eaters and You Know Who was a threat not easily countered with a robust knowledge of Herbology, nor parried with any spell she had been taught in Defence. The duelling club she had been a part of in her younger years had depended on civility on both sides and was taught as a sport, not as a tool by which to induce harm. It struck her as particularly odd, though she wasn't sure why, that although she had received a robust magical education, she had few to no tools to equip her for the war caused by magic. Maybe that's why Dumbledore was sending James on this mission to sleuth out Amelia's attack, to prepare them for a war that was forever inching nearer. Towards some masked killer waiting in the dark.

In all Lily's years rooming at Hogwarts, she had never cohabitated with a male that wasn't related to her. Her relationships in her younger years hadn't been particularly fulfilling, and the snogs shared in abandoned classrooms and behind tapestries had taught her little to nothing about the daily goings-on of the male species. While girls were messy and uncoordinated in their ways, it was a predictable thought pattern. She knew what was behind each nuanced step, the mechanics behind her friends' mode of thought and which weeks to avoid confrontation. Boys were different and unpredictable and slow to understand what she thought was clear as mud. This continued proximity was intoxicating, the feeling of him all wrapped around her as they slept was an intimacy she had never shared with another person, it was safety and comfort in clean aftershave and linen pyjama sets. His Puddlemore sheet set was endearing, as was his habit of leaving half-finished teacups wherever he went. His face was scratchy and soft when it brushed up against hers in bed, but his nighttime stirrings left her flustered and uncomfortable. She was no stranger to male physiology, nor the mechanics of it all, but it was James, not some randy bloke on the street. It wasn't his fault, but did he want her like that? Did he dream of her, of them together?

She knew that these bodily escapades were beyond his control, but she scooted farther away from his hips when they slept out of sheer embarrassment.

Other than nighttime kisses and more than one extended snogging session, they hadn't gone farther than perhaps coping a feel where permitted. It wasn't as if Lily was holding back from more, per se, and he wasn't pushing her, but the pressure to deepen their relationship hovered over her. She wished she knew what he was thinking, did he think she was fit, a good snog? Was that it? James had told her that first night in the Gryffindor Common Room that he loved her, but she had yet to do the same. It wasn't that she didn't love him, it was the phrase itself— so stocky and blunt, and again so needed to solidify one's feelings towards another verbally. Lily loved him, she supposed, for the way that he held her, the feeling of his eyelashes against her cheekbones while they kissed, the taste of peppermint on his lips. She loved his tenacity, his loyalty, his drive towards the unknown. She loved the way his eyes looked for none other than her own, for the firm, calloused hand of his in her own, she loved the way he lived each moment to its fullest— how he pushed for others to reach their potential. She loved his smile, the quirky relationship he had with his favourite Quidditch team, the somewhat obsessive habit of correcting what he felt could improve. She loved how he was with his friends, with her friends, how he treated the younger students in the corridors.

God, maybe she did love him.

Maybe she had loved him all along.

…

The rest of the day past in stormy silence; James' chagrin at Sirius' standoffishness was apparent, both by word and deed. Both ignored the other in classes, despite interventions from Peter and Remus, and at meals, Sirius had taken to eating on the far end of the table beside Mary rather than his usual place. Instead of being sullen, Sirius had resorted to an aloof air that suited him perfectly and left early.

James pushed the bench back with a dull scratching noise and took off in the other direction. Lily picked at her pudding, it was a rather tempting slice of treacle tart, but it tasted like dust in her mouth. She was so frustrated that she could hardly put it into words. Sirius was being unreasonable, but so was James. Wasn't their friendship worth more than a fight or two? Were they not like brothers, didn't they care for one another above the rest? Did they not forgive, forget and move on, just like they always had before? How was this time any different, what had changed?

James chose you over Sirius, a cynical part of Lily's psyche reminded her. He shouldn't have, and Sirius noticed. Sirius always notices, and you did nothing to stop it. If they don't makeup, it'll all be on you.

Lily stood up, her eyes burning and walked with purpose towards the doorway.

She didn't know where he could be; he had more than one hiding spot in the castle. His typical haunts were familiar to her, and she took the staircase with intentions of seeking him out and demanding reconciliation. If not for their friendship, then certainly for his own good.

The Owlery was unoccupied, as was the Astronomy tower. She took points off of a couple tucked into the corner of the fifth-floor landing and rolled her eyes as they hastily redressed and took off down the corridor. She checked the kitchens, the Gryffindor Common Room, the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Exhausted, she slipped like a raindrop down the wall and considered her options.

She didn't have the map; otherwise, it would be simple to locate him. She didn't particularly want to ask after it either, this was an errand she had to do alone, and she didn't need the other Marauders getting involved. A quiet part of her that didn't want to confess her shortfallings, or admit that she couldn't find him either. Was it not her job to know the castle inside and out? As head of the school, to know all the secret nooks and crannies? But didn't he know them better than anyone?

As if by lightning, an idea struck her, and she pulled herself up, taking down the corridor with a firmer destination than that of what she had previously.

The front door of the castle was mercifully unlocked and relatively unguarded, the Aurors who stood watch recognized her badge and let her out with nothing more than a curious sideways glance. The night was clear, a gently waning moon shining brightly, and the walk down to the Quidditch pitch was familiar and well packed after so many years. The loss of Quidditch was felt acutely by many inside the castle, and its absence bothered James more perhaps than the others. She could admit freely that the sight of him on a broom had fuelled many of her latest daydreams. He moved so efficiently, the muscles in his arms shifting as he caught the Quaffle, the cheers of the crowd for the popular captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, handsome and talented both. She knew he missed flying, and his pent up energy had lately found other, more wonderful outlets.

There was a light on in one of the changing rooms, and she pulled her cardigan in tighter as she braced the wind en route of the doorway. After a moment of apprehension, she pushed the door open and smiled as she observed its singular occupant. Thick plumes of smoke danced on the ceiling, and a near-empty bottle of Firewhiskey attended his side, and when she approached, Sirius didn't lookup.

"I was looking everywhere for you," she said carefully, pushing aside a Keepers helmet and sitting down on the bench opposite. The changing room looked hastily vacated, which of course, it had been. Bits of equipment littered the hooks, empty containers of broom polish and twigs were underfoot. Sirius' face was weary, and the cigarette on his lips quivered as he considered the space between his feet.

"I came here to be alone," Sirius said after a time, tapping out the ashes.

"I noticed," said Lily.

There was a loaded silence, and Lily picked at the hem of her jumper while he stared at the floorboards between his feet.

"Did James send you?" Sirius asked, his face hard when his eyes met hers. "Is that why you've come?"

"I don't know where he is," Lily said, "but that's not—,"

"Isn't it?" Sirius said shortly.

"No," Lily said firmly. "This has nothing to do with James. But—Sirius, I know you're hurting. Remus told me about Regulus, and I imagine that fighting with James has brought up some bad memories."

Sirius didn't respond, but the muscles in his jaw tightened as she spoke, and his eyes fixed steadily on the floorboards. She assumed he was still listening, so she continued. "And I'm sorry, Sirius I'm so sorry for that. You did something gallant, something brave, and you were punished for it. It isn't —,"

"You don't understand anything, do you?" Sirius said suddenly, and she looked up with wide eyes. "Is this a pity party? Did I miss the invitation?"

"No, of course not," Lily began, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"No, I think you do," Sirius said. "You don't give a shit about Regulus, and quite frankly, I don't think you give a shit about James either. He's loved you for years, years Evans! You wouldn't have given him the time of day a year ago, much less had a conversation with him. He saved you from a shit boyfriend and to make up for it—,"

"That's a lie, and you know it," Lily said through clenched teeth. "It's time to get something straight, okay? Of course, I care about Regulus; he's been a friend for years. I didn't know that you moved out of your parents' house until James told me, and that was a week ago. I didn't know about your parents, about you and Reg, about anything. But that doesn't mean that I don't care, or that I'm not sorry for you! I've got a sister who hates me; you think I don't know what it's like?"

Sirius looked up with a sullen, almost resigned glare. He had never been one to show his emotions, but Lily worried that she'd pushed too far. He sighed, turning away.

"My brother is a Death Eater, Evans,"

Lily's breath caught. "No, he couldn't be—"

"He is," Sirius said, turning to face her, his eyes piercing against her own. "And my parents are pleased for him, following in the steps of Bellatrix and Narcissa and the rest. Death Eaters, the lot of them,"

"But he seems so—,"

"He's gone, Evans," Sirius said, taking a long drink from his glass, draining it and promptly pouring another measure. "If you care. Gone for good,"

"Of course I—,"

Sirius sighed, "James is all I have left, Evans, him and the others. The Potter's took me in; I've been living with them when I'm not in school for over a year."

She couldn't quite meet his eyes, but he stared into her own nonetheless. "I didn't know about your sister," he said evenly. "But loyalty is hard to come by, and James will be loyal to you forever."

Lily shifted over, sitting beside him on the bench. Sirius was slumped over, his glass teetering on his knee.

"My parents, Evans," Sirius whispered with tears in his eyes. "My parents abandoned me. The others are all that I have, and I couldn't—I couldn't bear it if I lost them too. Don't let it happen to you too, no matter what,"

"I promise," Lily said, taking his hand in both of hers. This creature was a foreigner to her; she didn't know what to make of Sirius being honest with her. Were they the same person? She couldn't seem to reconcile them. Was he still the Sirius Black who had intimidated her from their first days at Hogwarts. Sirius, the one who had dated Marlene for a day in fourth year and broke her heart. Sirius, who held her as she cried after she and James had fought. A Sirius she had never known, but perhaps one that he had been all along. A Sirius who worried about his friends, someone who had lost a brother, a family, and now a best mate— a friend he couldn't afford to lose. Maybe they had been alike all along, more alike than anyone had known.

Lily moved closer to him, shifting, so his head rested on her shoulder, and when he let go, she held him as he cried.

"James loves you, Sirius. God, he loves you so much,"

It was many moments before Sirius' sobs broke into hiccuping breaths and many more before he rose from her shoulder with a look of deep embarrassment on his face. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and rubbed his back as he dried his eyes and blew his nose.

"Emotion is a tiresome business," she said quietly.

"I'm so—I'm sorry," Sirius muttered, pulling himself off of her.

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. It's about time you told someone how you felt. Keeping feelings inside hurts." She paused and took his hands in her own. "You are loved, Sirius. You're loved, and you're thought of, and you're not alone. You have to push on, you have to, or you'll give up. You're stronger than you think, stronger than they think you are."

"I—I lost my family, Evans," Sirius said, tears in his eyes. "They're gone forever. And fighting with James, he and the others—they're all I have. I feel like I've lost him to you, he's not the same as he used to be. I miss what we used to be,"

"Love is not finite," Lily said slowly, and Sirius sniffed before looking up. "It took me a long time to learn that. Just because someone you love loves somebody else doesn't mean that they love you any less. Love is not quantifiable; you don't only have a set amount to give,"

"Why couldn't he say that himself?" Sirius said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Instead of you?"

"Because he's an idiot and a toe-rag, and so far as I know, he's hurting just as much as you are. He's your best mate, Sirius. You'll always be best mates,"

"I misjudged you,"

"No, you didn't,"

"Yes, I did. I thought you were… unworthy of his love. James deserves someone who loves him, who cares for him. But the way he looks at you—God, Evans, he's not looked at a bird like the way he looks at you,"

Lily flushed and fiddled with her hands.

"I seem to recall," Sirius said a moment later, transfiguring an old boot into a tumbler with a wave of his wand. "That you have an inclination towards the finer things in life," Sirius poured a healthy measure of Firewhiskey into her glass and topped up his glass before offering it to her. "A toast of finer things to come?"

Lily raised her glass and took a sip, the pleasant feeling of alcohol burned in her belly and left a feeling akin to courage fizzling in her.

"To better things to come," she said.