a/n: for we make paper cranes. In my opinion Lily always liked James, and they were tentatively friends when he wasn't being an arse, even in fifth year.

thirty-one – fascinated

He comes across her sitting in one of the big bay windows on the fifth floor. She's leaning her cheek against the glass pane with her gaze fixed on a point far over the Lake that stretches out along the sunset-streaked horizon. She doesn't tear her eyes away – he's unsure if she's even noticed his presence – but as he softly says, "Evans," she turns to him tearfully and, just as quietly, speaks.

"What do you want?"

"I – er –" he stops and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing. I just wondered if you were alright, I suppose."

Tight-lipped: "Fine."

"Are you – good. Are you sure?"

Lily looks away from him, rolling her eyes. She turns back to the window and hutches her knees a little closer into her chest.

"Yes."

"Right."

The tension in the air is unbearable, but all James can focus on is the way her breath huffs against the pane and makes a cloud on the glass and when she draws a line in it her finger trembles. She bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes briefly and he's focusing on the pink in her cheeks and wondering if it's good or not and he's so enraptured by her actions he misses what she says next.

"Sorry?"

"I said, leave me alone."

He takes a step towards her and she flicks her eyes to him for a tiny moment before pretending to be wholly fascinated by the grounds once more.

"Listen, Evans," he begins, and his hand jumps to his hair once again. He shoves it in his robe pocket and leans against the sill she's sitting on. "I need –"

"I don't really think what you need comes into this," she says all at once, and her tone is so acerbic that he flinches. Her eyes are bright and she digs her nails into her palm, hiding her hands in the folds of her robes.

"I want to apologise," he says, not deterred. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go that far."

"Good." Her gaze is fixed on the Lake again and he's surprised at her reaction.

"Good?"

Lily lets out an incredulous laugh, eyes welling and furiously blinking back tears. "D'you know, I don't think you realise, Potter." Her voice is low and dangerous, her jaw set, but James narrows his eyes at her anyway.

"I think you're the one who doesn't realise, Evans," he shoots back. "He called you a – you know – in front of our whole year; what else will it take for you to work out that he is not, and never has been, worth your time? I don't understand –"

"No, you don't understand!" Lily shouts, stumbling off the sill and landing on her feet. "You have no idea, do you? You provoked him like you always do, and I was caught in the middle of your stupid ages-old tug-of-war, just like I usually am!" She stops for breath, tears flowing, and heaves a sob. "You get your bloody laughs, Potter, but I'm the one who gets hurt! I'm sick of it! You need to grow up. You might not have called me – that but –"

She sinks down the stone wall of the corridor, flickering torchlight highlighting shades of red in her hair, and she puts her head on her arms and cries.

James looks around for any sign of other people, but there is no-one around on the summer evening, and he lets out a breath.

"Evans –"

"Don't call me that!" she snaps, raising her head. "My name is Lily. You know that, you're not an idiot." She stares at him, half defiant, half defenceless, and he sits down next to her awkwardly. James pats her arm and she gives a snort. "You're bloody useless, you are."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't suppose many sixteen-year-old boys would know –"

"Bloody hell, Evans, I don't mean about that." He puts his hand in his pocket frustratedly, wishing he could put his arm around her and stroke her hair until she stopped crying. "I'm sorry about the whole thing with Snape today. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I don't –"

Lily looks at him and sniffs. "You don't what?"

"Nothing." James looks down the corridor until he feels his arm nudged. "I don't want to make you sad, alright?" he expels finally, staring at her, daring her to laugh. "I don't want to hurt you."

She watches him. After a time, her fingers brush his briefly – he reckons he imagined it, and he leaves that bit out when he tells Sirius what happened – and she licks her lips and says, very softly, "I know."

"Right," he repeats, exhaling. James is about to get up and walk away, because he can tell that she has nothing more to say to him. He shouldn't have bothered in the first place, because bloody hell, he made her cry – he's such a wanker – when he feels a slight weight on his shoulder, and realises she's resting her head on him.

(He stays.)