Dear Lily,

Strangest thing happened today. We were sitting at breakfast when an owl came for you. Now, that isn't something that's strange within itself, of course, because your parents like to keep in touch, no – what was strange was that it was from your sister. While I may not know much about you, I do know that she and her porker of a husband absolutely abhor magic and that she more or less hates you (something that, Lily dear, I can't quite understand). You opened the letter, which was in a Muggle envelope, with shaking hands and pulled it out just far enough to read it. Wilkes tried to look over your shoulder to see what it said, but you pulled away from him, holding it against your chest.

"It's nothing," you said quietly, but I saw how your skin lost its pigment as your eyes scanned the words on the page. You ate another bite of omelet before putting on an air of surprise and muttering an excuse about having forgotten your Charms homework in your dorm. Wilkes nodded and half-smiled and you walked away, but he slumped in his seat after you were gone.

For the first time, I almost felt badly for him.

I finished my food quickly and heaped a plate with everything I could get my hands on before rushing out of the Great Hall and up to the Common Room. I didn't believe you when you said that you would be there, but you had been telling the truth. You were lying stretched out on the crimson couch, your arms above your head as you exhaled deeply.

"Who is it?" You sounded nearly defeated.

"Me."

You reluctantly opened one eye, squinted at me, and closed it again.

"I brought you food."

"I'm not… I'm afraid I haven't got much of an appetite, Potter."

I walked over and leaned against the arm of the couch. "Well, I'll leave it for you, just in case you change your mind." I went to leave, but you stopped me.

"What are your parents like?"

I raised a brow at you, then laughed and smiled. "They're… they're like grandparents. Old and sweet and happy."

The corners of your lips twitched slightly.

"What about yours?"

You chortled quietly to yourself. "Trust me, James. Yours are better than mine."

"Right. Okay, well, I'll leave you alone now, I guess." I went to climb out of the portrait hole, but, encouraged by the fact that you had called me by my first name, added, "Would you like to maybe meet up for a Butterbeer today – you know, since we're going to Hogsmeade?"

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pushing your bangs out of your eyes. "I don't think I'm going today."

"Oh. Right, of course. I understand completely."

"Maybe some other time?"

I looked at you and decided that you were genuine.

"I'll hold you to that."

You laughed.

"Alright."

"Have fun with the couch."

"Will do, James."

This might have been the best day all year.

—James