Author's Note: Second chapter within a week. I reeeally like seeing reviews…

Peter had decided to fill James in on everything he had missed while away. Apparently, gossip piled up quickly.

"…together. And I mean, everyone's talking about you. But there is some good news. Remus and Sirius are all made-up now. No more fighting and, I think, no more internal anger."

This was good news. The first good news James had heard in a long time, let alone in the gossip session. This meant that, not only would James not have to deal with their fight, but Sirius, Remus, and Peter would all have each other if they had to give up James as their friend.

Which was certainly a possibility.

"Where'd they go anyway?" said James.

"Breakfast," said Peter. "They're going to bring us back food. They wanted to let you sleep late, and you know how Remus is on Sundays."

James nodded. "Appreciated," he mumbled.

Peter was sitting excitedly on his bed, eager to answer any question James had and give any piece of information he remembered. James, on the other hand, was laying down, ready for more sleep.

Peter suddenly looked uncomfortable. He looked down at his feet when he asked, "So, you going to tell us what happened with Evans?"

"Nothing to tell," James answered immediately. "I hope they don't bring back a feast."

Peter did not push him further on the Lily Evans topic. "I don't think they'll overwhelm you," he said.

….

"So, Potter's back," said Gavin conversationally. He was having trouble getting Lily to give him sufficient responses.

"Mmm," she said, spacing. "Oh, I know," she said, coming back to life. "Sirius told me."

Gavin nodded slowly. "Right," he muttered.

Lily stared across the common room at the group of girls—fourth years, she believed—discussing James Potter rumors. She could always tell when they were discussing James because they would turn to give her nasty looks here and there, as if she had told him to kill himself.

Though Lily knew she had not done so, she sort of felt, with everything she had done, she might as well have.

And there was one thing that had plagued her. It distracted her from being able to have normal conversations with Gavin the way she used to.

"Gavin?" she said, turning away from the girls. She looked up at the man sitting beside her on the red couch.

"Yes?" He looked pleased that she was starting a conversation herself.

"I have to ask…why…why are you with me?"

Gavin looked confused. "Lily, I—"

"I mean," she interrupted, turning to look at her legs. "Why have you stayed?"

It was clear to Lily that Gavin now understood. Perhaps he had even been expecting her to ask. She had cheated on him—had sex with a boy she did not have feelings for while in a relationship with someone she was supposed to be in love with, and she had kept it from him. He had only found out when someone else revealed it. And he had stayed with her. He did not, so to speak, send her packing.

Gavin put his arm tightly around Lily's shoulder. With his other hand, he lifted her face for her to look at him. "Lily, I love you. I never want to lose you. And I know that cheating—doing something so wrong…that's not you. I know that you're sorry. I know that people make mistakes, and I love you so much. I can't bear to lose you, to ever be with any other girl. I want you forever, and therefore, I'm willing to move on from this awful experience."

Gavin leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I love you so much, angel. You're the most amazing..."

Gavin stopped speaking. He looked at Lily curiously, as she had started to cry. Lily knew he was not used to this side of her. Throughout all of the years they had known each other, he had only seen her cry once or twice, and knowing Lily, it had probably been out of frustration.

She had not even let the tears flow when her secret was revealed. But she was crying now.

"What is it, Lily?" asked Gavin, gently guiding her head to his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Lily did not know if she had ever felt so awful in her life. Everything was crumbling around her. And she was about to make things even worse.

It was flattering, perhaps, that Gavin was willing to forgive her and move on because of his intense love for her. But it was heart-breaking at the same time. Because she knew she would not do the same for Gavin. She cared for him. He had been good to her. She had told him she loved him whenever he said it to her.

Maybe she had believed that she did love him. Or maybe she just thought it was the right thing to say. But she knew that if Gavin had cheated on her, she would have let him go and move on. She would have been hurt, she supposed, her ego bruised, her trust broken. And without someone to hold her for a while. But she would, unlike Gavin, have been able to bear the thought of being with other men. She would have embraced it if he had cheated.

She may have forgiven him after some time, but she would not have held onto him.

Gavin's feelings for her were so passionate. And though it hurt, she knew it was good, in a sense, that she knew now.

Lily did not truly love Gavin. She had never loved him. She had never felt that supposedly incredible "in love" feeling in her life.

Taking a deep breath, Lily pulled out of Gavin's embrace. "Gavin, I'm—I'm so sorry."

"I know, Lily," said Gavin.

Lily assumed he thought she meant she was sorry for sleeping with James. Which she was. But that was not at all what she meant.

"I'm sorry that we can't do this anymore. I'm sorry I've ruined everything."

Gavin's eyes were wide. "What are you talking about, Lily?"

"We don't feel the same way about each other," she whispered.

Gavin blinked. He watched Lily for a long time. Finally, he stood up. "I don't…I don't know what to say."

And that was all he did say. And he left her to cry.

"Decided to ruin someone else's life, Evans?"

Lily took her head out of her hands. It was one of the girls who had been giving her nasty looks.

Lily did not answer, but put her head back into her hands and cried. The girl was right. She was ruining everything.

….

"They are certainly taking a while," James commented, glancing at their alarm clock. "I mean, I've been awake nearly half an hour, and they left before then."

James was not looking forward to the meal his friends were going to bring him, but he was looking forward to not hearing any more details from Peter about what he had missed.

James had already gotten up and dressed, unable to fall back to sleep with Peter's chattering.

"Do you want to go and join them, then?" asked Peter. "Since you're up anyway. No need for breakfast in bed."

It seemed to James that there were a few benefits of going down to join his friends in the Great Hall. He would perhaps have more choices of foods to choose from, rather than being forced to choose from what would be brought to him. Possibly the unhealthiest things his friends could find. With the atmosphere and distractions the Great Hall could provide them with, his every bite and food choice would maybe not be watched. And he could get the hell out of his conversation with Peter.

"Yeah," said James. "Let's go."

They did not get to the Great Hall, however. James and Peter discovered what had been taking Remus and Sirius so long shortly after getting into the common room.

James froze when he saw her. His Lily, Remus and Sirius on either side of her, while she cried into her hands.

James was torn between standing right where he was, the expression of shock on his face, and rushing to her aid. He chose a path in the middle of the two, walking slowly and silently to where they were.

He stood in front of them. Sirius and Remus both looked up at him. Remus smiled sadly, and Sirius shrugged.

James supposed she had sensed his presence. She looked up at him. He could not tell what emotion was in her eyes when he stared into them. There was obviously pain there, but she looked…

James could not figure out what she looked.

He mustered up enough courage to whisper, "Are you okay?" Which, he realized, was perhaps not the most intelligent question he could have asked at that moment. The girl was clearly upset.

Lily did not snap, though. It looked like she tried to smile. "Yes," she whispered back. "I am okay."

It was as though something took over James' body, and he had no control over his actions. He found himself crouching before the couch, unsure how he had gotten there.

"Whatever it is," he said, "you can always talk to me."

The mysterious controller had apparently taken over his vocal cords as well, as James had no idea why he was saying what he was saying, and it did not seem to him that the words were planned by him before they spilled out.

Lily blinked away tears. She mouthed a thank you and then walked to the staircase to her dormitory.

Sirius and Remus were looking at him with shocked expressions.

"What?"

Sirius came to first. He smiled. "Come on, we brought you food." Grabbing the bag from beside his feet, he led them back in the direction Peter and James had just come from. "We couldn't easily get you, say, eggs. Kinda hard to transport in a brown bag. We just got you some portable items."

James nodded, walking in step with Sirius, feeling Remus' and Peter's eyes on him from behind.

"Why was she crying?" James asked, as Sirius opened the door to their room. "What happened?"

Sirius waited until they were all inside of the room. "I don't know," he said. "She wouldn't talk."

James sat down on his bed. "She doesn't cry," he said. "I've never seen her cry."

Sirius took his place on his bed, as well, facing James. "Don't worry yourself about it, mate." He tossed James the brown bag of food. "You got your meeting tonight, right? What time?"

"Eight," said James, peeking into the bag. "She said nothing?"

"James," said Sirius firmly. "Do not worry about Lily. She'll be fine. Focus on yourself."

"Nothing to focus on, with me," said James. He pulled out the smallest item in the bag. A miniature lemon muffin. "I was well enough to come back, right?"

"Yes," said Remus quickly. "And we're grateful for that. Sirius will make sure Lily is all right. Won't you, Sirius?"

"Of course," said Sirius, looking at James. "She'll be fine."

James pulled a piece off of his muffin and popped it in his mouth. Sirius smiled.

….

James sulked in his chair in Professor Dumbledore's office. When Stephen talked, he made a point of ignoring him, looking clearly at the ceiling and forcing himself to think of other things. His intention was rudeness.

But it did not stop him from hearing things

"How old are you, James?"

James raised an eyebrow. The question seemed harmless enough. "Seventeen."

Stephen nodded.

"I don't see why that's important, though," James muttered, rolling his eyes. "Oh, you'll really solve the mystery now. James is seventeen. Really golden information."

Stephen chuckled. James glared at him.

"You're angry," said Stephen.

James had given up on not paying attention. Perhaps flat-out meanness was best, rudeness not good enough.

"Yes, I'm angry. I don't want to be here."

"You misunderstood," said Stephen, smiling slightly. "I meant, in general."

"You think I'm an angry person?" said James, laughing. It was a sort of dark laugh. "On the contrary, I…"

James stopped. Not only was what he was possibly about to say possibly no longer true, but he was also possibly treading into dangerous territory. He could not give this man anything for him to "work with."

Stephen shrugged. "I could, of course, be wrong—misinterpreting. But that's certainly what it seems like."

"Yeah, you could."

"James, it's perfectly okay with me if you want to yell and say mean things, but if your intention is to scare me away, you may as well waste your breath. I'm not going anywhere."

James shook his head. "That's what they all say."

James cursed in his head at his stupidity. That would certainly give Stephen something to theorize about.

"So, why'd you try to kill yourself?" Stephen asked bluntly.

"Wanted to die," said James simply.

"Did you?" asked Stephen, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know about that."

"Funny," said James, "but I was under the impression that I was the one who did it, not you. And that I know more about myself than you do. Guess I was wrong."

Stephen was sitting only a few feet away from James in a fold-out chair. James was using the chair that was used when having any sort of meeting with the headmaster. Though Dumbledore had offered his seat behind the desk to Stephen, he had politely refused. Apparently, talking to James with the desk between them would have been too formal.

"I suppose you would," said Stephen, nodding. "So you wanted to die, with no concern for how it would hurt your mother, your sisters, your friends?"

"They'd have been better off," said James. He could not help responding at this point. Stephen was provoking him. "I did it for them."

"Hmm," said Stephen. "That's a…a different reason than you just gave me, no?"

"Yep," said James. "Tricky, no?"

Nothing seemed to bother this man. It was ridiculous. James decided to try harder.

"So," he said, crossing his arms. "You were friends with me my dad, right?"

"I was," said Stephen.

"Guess you must have felt real shitty that he didn't care enough about you to keep himself alive, must have felt really unimportant, huh?"

Stephen did not seem bothered. He looked at James expectantly with an almost cheerful expression on his face, waiting for more.

"He never said anything about you," said James. "Obviously, you weren't that important to him. I never heard of you my whole childhood."

"And that wasn't simply because your father didn't speak much to you at all?" Stephen asked.

His expression was still, if not entirely happy, not unhappy. What the hell did James have to do to hurt him?

"No," said James. "My father talked to me plenty."

"No, he didn't, James. You know that."

Now James found himself very confused, though he tried not to show it. He cleared his throat. "You're trying to break me down, and it's not going to work. My dad did not neglect me. He was a good man."

Stephen shrugged. "He was. A long time ago."

"He was a good father," said James.

"He was," Stephen said again. "Before you were born."

James' eyes widened. It seemed as though this man was trying to do to James what James had been trying to do to him: hurt him. Was this retaliation?

"You have no idea what you're talking about," said James, glaring at this man who dared to say such things, hatred boiling within him. "No fucking idea."

"Enlighten me?" said Stephen, gesturing that James should sit back down.

James had not noticed he was standing.

"Why should I tell you anything? Besides, there's nothing to tell. He was a good man, a good father. The fact that he up and decided to kill himself one morning—"

"Up and decided?" said Stephen, an eyebrow raised skeptically. "I think you know it was not that sudden."

This man had to have special powers. James had gone into the meeting, intending to sulk in silence. Then, perhaps use his anger to drive him away, hurt him. Something. But now he was speaking without thinking, without remembering before he spoke the consequences that could come about.

Anything he said could have been used against him. It would be filed away in a report that would make this man come up with some wackjob diagnosis for why he was behaving the way he was.

"James, I think you're in a bit of denial, the way you see your life before your father died, it's…it's not right."

It was James' turn to raise an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so? I'm in denial. Now I'm crazy. Now I believe things that aren't true. Well, thanks for informing me."

"All right," said Stephen. "It seems to me that our two options are you are in denial about the way things were and/or repressing things. The other option is that you know the words coming out of your mouth are bullshit, but you're saying them anyway."

James snorted. "You know what I think? You—"

"I'm afraid you'll have to tell me next week," said Stephen, glancing at his watch. "Our time is up."