So here's the next chapter, I hope you like it! Sorry about the wait guys, school is BUGGING ME! Mega thanks to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, favourited and read this story!

The next morning, James went out early into the shared Head's common room to find it deserted. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't really expected Lily to be their waiting for him, so he crossed the room to her bedroom door and knocked on it lightly with his knuckles. There was no reply.

He knocked again, a little harder. 'Err, Evans?' he said, his head leaning on the polished wood of the door. 'Lily?'

Again, there was no reply. It was unlike Lily to sleep in late, or be late for anything, come to that, so James concluded that she must have gone down to breakfast already. He glanced at his watch; quarter past eight, it read. He had arranged to meet his friends at half past in the Great Hall; he supposed it wouldn't hurt if he was there a little earlier. It might give him a chance to talk to Lily.

As he left the dormitory, giving it an appraising smile and thinking of just how jealous the others would be of the room, he thought about the conversation he'd had with Lily last night. She had never been like that with him before, had never been so unguarded. He had finally got to see something of her weaknesses, something that moved her to an emotion other than anger, and the fault had not been himself. She was upset, and rightly so, given what had happened. He hoped that she had been okay during the night. He hated the thought of her lying in bed, crying silently to herself. Nobody should ever have to face that.

I never thought this would happen to anyone I knew...

Her words floated through his head, and he felt the usual stab of anger, but then realised he hadn't felt it last night, he had been too busy comforting her.

I know how that feels, he had said. Oh, he knew, all right. He swelled with anger every time he remembered that day at the beginning of the holidays.

It had been shortly after Sirius had come for his belongings. His favourite uncle, Alphard, had died during their school year and left his nephew a fair bit of gold, so Sirius had insisted, after buying himself a brilliant, red motorbike, that he get somewhere else to live, rather than intruding on Mr and Mrs Potter any longer. They had tried to beat him down, of course, they were never anything but loving and polite to the boy they saw almost as a second son, but Sirius had been adamant.

So he had bought himself a flat in London, a decent sized yet rather ramshackle place with lurid, floral wallpaper that had been yellowed by years of tobacco smoke, and, with James' help, moved his belongings in. James and Remus had spent the first few days there, helping Sirius get organised, but on the third day, James Apparated home.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he appeared on the pathway to the back door. There was an eerie sort of silence, even the birds seemed to have stopped twittering, and then he saw the door. It was hanging off by one hinge, and looked like it had been forced inwards. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, he sprinted inside, yelling, 'Mum? Dad?'

His heart beating fast and wondering what on earth was happening, James had entered the library, to find his mother sitting in one of the leather bound chairs in the middle of the room, looking terrified, her eyelids fluttering madly, and his father standing guard over her. Opposite them, near one of the bookshelves, was a group of four men James didn't recognise, though they were all dressed in the same flowing black robes. Two of them wore large hoods, draped menacingly over their eyes, while the other two appeared to have dispensed with them. As James burst into the room, they all wheeled around and pointed their wands in his face.

'Don't move, sonny Jim, or we'll strike!' one of the men shouted. Now he had spoken, James recognised who it was. Bartholomew Knott. James had met him years before when his father had taken him to the Ministry. What was he doing here?

'What's going on?' James had demanded, keeping his wand pointed at the group of men, who seemed to find this amusing.

'James, don't move!' his father said to him, sternly. He also had his wand raised at the men. James noticed a pile of books on the floor, and a large scorch mark on one of the bookshelves where the books on the floor appeared to have come from. Someone had fired a spell.

'Tell me you'll think about it, Potter,' Bartholomew Knott said, turning his attention back to James' father.

'I don't need to think about it, Knott,' Mr Potter spat. 'I'll never join you, you sick bunch of thugs!'

Mr Knott's eyes flashed with anger, and before James could do anything other than cry out, his father had been blasted across the room, and Mr Knott was advancing menacingly on James' mother, who was still slumped in the chair, but seemed to be conscious.

'People who defy the Dark Lord often find they have made a very terrible enemy, Potter!' Knott shouted, pointing his wand at Mrs Potter. 'Are you sure you don't want to reconsider? Perhaps I should give you some incentive? Crucio!'

James' mother gave a blood-curdling yell and she fell in a heap from her chair and began writing on the floor.

'NO!' James yelled, and did the first thing that came into his mind. Forgetting his wand completely, he launched himself at Knott, and they collided painfully, sending Knott flying into the bookshelf.

'Why, you little-' But he didn't have time to finish his sentence as James drew back his fist and sank it into Knott's mouth. Suddenly, James was blasted back and landed painfully on the floor, ten feet away. The other hoodless man stood with his wand raised at him. His face looked worried.

'We should get out of here, Knott,' he said. 'Our instructions were not to harm them...'

Knott grunted and hauled himself to his feet, spitting blood out as he did so.

'You'll live to regret this, Potter!' he shouted at James' father, who was struggling to get up. 'Those who defy the Dark Lord get their comeuppance soon enough! You've gone an made yourself a powerful enemy.'

He leered around at them all, before the four men Disapparated.

Oh, he knew all right. He knew what it was like to have been completely innocent, and to have that innocence shattered. Never again would he assume that the war wouldn't touch him, and neither, it seemed would Lily. He didn't know which way was worse; being told that your friend had been attacked and half her family murdered, or seeing your mother tortured in front of you because your father had refused to join the Death Eaters.

He sighed, and tried to put the memory from his mind. Getting angry about it wouldn't change anything. Things like this were bound to happen now, they already had. He couldn't use it as an excuse. He could use his experience to comfort others, like Lily.

He had reached the marble staircase now, surprised; his feet appeared to have carried him naturally here because he certainly hadn't been paying attention to where he was headed. Grinning a little, his mind went to how Lily had looked at him the previous night, and how he was sure she had nearly put her hand on top of his. Then, he remembered how she had stiffened, as if she was remembering who this was, whose hand was on her shoulder, and she had walked off. He sighed.

'Oi, Prongs!' he turned around and grinned as he saw the Marauders walking towards him, accompanied by Danni, Tarragon and Mary.

'How was the first night as Mr Head Boy?' Sirius said as they reached him. The girls gave him small smiles, and continued down the stairs, presumably they wanted to find Lily and see if she was okay. 'Get anywhere with the lovely Lily?'

'It was good,' James said, ignoring the last question deliberately. 'Honestly, wait until you see the room. It's amazing.'

'How was Lily?' Remus asked, his head cocked to one side.

'She was okay,' James said quietly. He was wondering whether to tell the Marauders what had happened, even though it made him feel useless. He looked around at them all, and saw their expectant grins, and he realised just how much they meant to him. He made his mind up.

'She was a bit upset, so I sort of comforted her,' he said, looking mainly at Remus and trying to ignore Sirius, who would surely turn this into a lewd situation.

'What did she do?'

'Well, it was going all right at first. We were talking, properly. And then I put my hand on her shoulder.'

'Haha!' Sirius shrieked. 'Oh, Merlin, Prongs. You're useless. It's getting to the point when putting a hand on her shoulder is a good thing!'

James ignored him. 'She didn't throw it off. She looked at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to do something, going to put her hand on mine. But then she sat up and went to bed without another word,' he finished miserably.

'It's an improvement, I suppose,' Remus said thoughtfully.

'Yeah, at least she didn't yell at you!' Peter squeaked.

'But what am I going to do if she keeps closing up like that every time I try to talk to her?' James said in exasperation. 'I'm pretty sure she was only talking to me because she was upset and there was nobody else. It was me who happened to be there, she would have done the same with any of you, perhaps she would have even held your hand! How am I supposed to be friends with her when the moment I think I'm getting close, she walks away?'

'Why don't you ask her?' Remus said.

'What?' James was slightly taken aback.

'Ask her,' Remus repeated. 'Ask her if you can be friends. Then she knows plain and simple what you want. She's not going to try to guess why you're doing these nice things, whether there's an ulterior motive. Ask her to start over.'

'That's actually a good idea,' Sirius said thoughtfully.

James was silent. It was a good idea. She would definitely know then, that he wasn't trying to be sleazy or ask her out. He just wanted to be friends. Well, he wanted more than that, but by being friends with her first, by showing he could speak to her without asking her out was a step in the right direction. It was no different from his plan on the train. Except this time, she would know about it.

'I'll do that, I'll ask her,' James said finally. 'I'll do it today.'