ONE AM – Second Year
12-year-old James Potter woke up in the middle of the night, not quite knowing why. He checked his watch – 1:13 AM. With a sigh, he got out of bed, intending only to get a glass of water and then go back to sleep. He was almost at the bathroom door when he heard an unidentifiable sound coming from the Common Room below. It sounded almost like someone was crying, but really slowly.
He crept down the stairs carefully, stopping when he was far enough to see into the circular room. He didn't quite know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't what he saw – tiny little Lily Evans, curled up asleep on the couch that faced the fire, clutching a huge Charms book to her chest and a quill in the hand that was hanging off the side. The sight was so endearing that he couldn't help but smile, wishing he had one of those Muggle picture-taking machines... what was it called, camarera? Because he was quite sure that it would be a long time until he next saw Lily looking so vulnerable, if indeed it ever happened again.
He went down the few remaining steps as quietly as possible, freezing half-way between the stairs and the couch when Lily stirred a bit. She merely turned, though, hugging the Charms book closer. A shiver passed through her as James took a few steps closer, and he realised she must be freezing – the fire had gone out long ago, and Lily was only wearing her school skirt and Oxford shirt, her robes probably lying discarded on the floor of the second-year girls' dormitory. Her tie had come loose a little bit, and her hair had mostly escaped the two braids it had been contained in, so it formed a fiery halo around her head. On the table, James could see an unfinished Charms essay – one that wasn't due for another two weeks. He laughed quietly. "Oh, Lily," he whispered to himself. "How typical of you."
She shivered again, as if in agreement. James shifted his attention to the room around him, looking for – aha! A blanket he could drape over the poor girl. There was a Gryffindor throw on the next armchair, and he tiptoed over to get it before covering Lily with it gently. He tucked the blanket under her chin, carefully brushing her hair out of her face. She sighed, and James froze, hoping to hell that Lily would not choose this moment to wake up. She didn't, however, just pulled the blanket closer and settled down further. James sighed in relief and backed away, not turning his back on Lily until he reached the boys' staircase.