Around sunrise, James awoke. Sadly, he noticed how Lily’s hand was not longer in his, but he was happy to notice that she seemed more comfortable.
Getting up, James did a rare thing: he made breakfast. Naturally he used magic, but he impressed even himself by knowing all the right spells. When the food was prepared, James conjured some plates and trays, albeit with stag hoof prints. He put the food down in front of the door on the carpet, then knocked, before running away.
Downstairs, James found Sirius, staring incredulously at the empty plates and pots. Before he could say anything, James found himself hanging by his heels from the ceiling.
“I've... you didn't... James!” he moaned furiously, staring up at James, who was thrashing furiously. “We have discussed, I recall, who is served first at every meal. Me!” he added, in his most arrogant voice. “If it weren't so early, I'd have shaved your head.”
“I'm sorry,” James began, feeling blood surging to his head, “I was going to – oof!” he exclaimed, having fallen several feet to the floor face first. “Padfoot, you've broken my glasses!”
Sirius smiled but tried to look hurt, throwing his hand to his chest as if insulted.
“And?” said Sirius expectantly. “Oh, come off it! Occulus Reparo!”
Rather than a proper thanks, James merely said, “Conduplico! Aerumna! Opella!"
“Continental breakfast – my favorite!” said Sirius with relish, taking on the appearance of a starved wildebeest.
Lily didn’t want to get up, though she'd been awake since she'd heard James' feet hit the ceiling. On the able in front of her was a plate of food, but she didn't trust herself to open her mouth. Every muscle in her body was ignoring her brain, and she had an ache of mind and body. Besides, she didn't deserve his kindness.
She might be shaken, but she knew James and Sirius well enough to know she could easily sneak out of the kitchen while they ate. Being so close to James and being so drained, she felt completely able to make it to the door and upstairs unnoticed. While she managed the first part with an ease almost eerie, she didn't make it all the way.
“Miss Evans!” She had nearly fallen, but found herself in the sturdy arms of Mr. Potter, who she had bumped into in the stairway. “How can I help you?” he asked, without any sign of being condescending.
“Where... I need to lie down.” Lily heard herself say, shifting her weight from left to right.
Without hesitation, he said quietly, “Up to the first floor. Left from the stairs, first room on the right.”
She nodded and moved quickly away, not being able to bear his kind eyes, nor feel them as they watched her go. Lily walked up the stairs, following the directions she had and coming to a very plain room.
The bedroom was painted an ivory off-white, and was fairly empty except for a large bed, one bookshelf, and a dresser. There were two windows, but the shades of light gold were down; underneath one, a small bench with several soft cushions sat idle. The bed was sticking into the middle of the room, covered in a regal quilt and three large pillows.
Walking around, taking in the room as she patrolled the borders, Lily sat a few picture frames – some of James as a baby, others of Jack and Helena, weddings and birthdays… atop the dresser there was a very cute square mirror she knew belonged to James, a few wizard magazines, and an assortment of silver and crystal bowls. A light layer of dust blanketed the surface of the bookshelf, as though it had been there longer than its roommates. It held scores of books – reference, some novels, and many more.
As interested as she normally would be, Lily was worn down. Everything seemed shaky, both physical and mentally. She couldn't decide what she wanted, to sleep or to sit, to talk or to cry or to be silent. A bit like Goldilocks, Lily moved from place to place, removing various articles of sweaty, baggy clothing. The bed was not comfortable, not was the windowsill. The closet opposite her bed, however, proved perfect.
Clad in her underwear, Lily sat on the carpeted pulled the doors closed around her, shutting out all but thin sheets of dim light. The sheets on the floor wrapped around her, Lily wasn't sure if she slept or not. She saw her parents, dead… James dead on the quidditch field… the Dark Mark over her house…
She didn’t cry. She just sat, listening to the sound of her own breathing.
He finished setting the dishes in the sink to clean themselves, and was about to vanish his sleeping bag, when he noticed.
“Where is she?”
Sirius' head shot around, and he looked at what James was looking at: an empty couch.
“She's probably gone to the bathroom,” said Sirius slowly, with no real conviction.
Or gone, though James. Just as he readied himself to search the house, his father entered.
“Did you see -”
“She wanted to rest,” said Jack fairly. “I told her to take the larger guest room. And I think,” he said, reading James' mind, “that we should respect her privacy.”
The day wore on, and no one saw Lily at all. James and Sirius sat in the kitchen, pretending to do play Exploding Snap. Mr. Potter went back in to the Ministry, explaining the deaths of the Evanses had been one of four attacks the previous night, and he had to report in to help. After Helena had made the boys swear to stay downstairs, she too went on to the Ministry.
“And ignore the Evening Prophet,” she suggested, owing to how James had ripped the morning edition to shreds when the owl had delivered it. The front page read:
It would suggest a clean report, but the Prophet had gone to question whether the Dark Mark had really been there. It went even so far as to imply “the children of the deceased, including a witch” as a suspect.
Helena came home on time, but Jack was not seen until late that night. Banned as he was, James kept thinking about Lily. He offered to bring her dinner, but Helena refused and brought a tray up herself. She came back only a short while later, the plate untouched. Lily had been asleep (James didn't believe his mother's face for a second as she said this). He was worried.
Both Sirius and James went to bed (locked in by Helena, though it was a pointless task since both boys knew the counter charm) and fell fitfully asleep to the steady downpour of a worsening storm.
The weekend faded, and the mood in the Potter manor was on the same path.
On top of that, every time she entered the room, Helena found Lily in about the same place – on the edge of the bed, waiting for her (Helena began to suspect Lily had set a trip censor on the threshold).
“I don't want to, er... put you out,” said Lily feebly, wiping her tears away furiously.
“Oh, no, dear. You are not only welcome, but you actually brought even more security to the house. Aurors on the street round the clock, see.” When Lily blinked away even more tears, Helena smiled weakly and tried to back out gracefully.
Every visit since had found Lily in bed, uninterested in food or conversation.
Jack came home from work everyday tired, hungry and secretive. He told nothing to the boys, and spoke in whispers with his wife in the evenings.
The storm didn’t pass; it seemed to linger with a light drizzle over the neighborhood.
Then about midweek, James couldn’t take it any longer. Early that evening, with his parents both gone, James excused himself from chess, and tiptoed up to where Lily was sleeping.
When he knocked, she looked at the door, confused. Helena had left already. Deciding it wasn’t a good idea to open the door, she rolled over on the bed and faced the darkening window. He knocked again, and she understood who was knocking. She closed her eyes and wished that he would leave her alone.
“Please, Lily,” he pleaded, calling tenderly through the door. She didn’t answer.
Patience was something James didn’t learn. He unlocked the door and stepped in.
He traced her silhouette, then moved through the shadowy room to sit by her feet. He tried to place a hand on her leg, but she recoiled.
“Go away,” she said calmly and quietly.
“But I want to stay,” he said. He look at her imploringly, willing her to turn and face him. “Eat something.”
She shot up, moving as far into the pillows as possible. “Go away,” she said again.
“You can't sit here, it's not good for you.”
Wetness filled her almond eyes. “Who cares?”
He was shocked, not just by what she said, but by the loathing with which she said it. “I care,” he said fiercely, putting his palm to her cheek. “I really care, and I want you to -”
But she had moved off the bed, away from him.
“Please, let me go if you won't.”
“Like hell you're leaving!” he said, standing.
“James, you can't understand this. I don't want you to...”
“But I do!” he cut in.
Shaking her head, she stared at him. “If you knew me at all,” she said, her voice low and hurt, “you would go away and let me go back to bed. ”
“No.” They glared at each other.
“I don't want to be involved with you anymore,” she whispered. “Get out.”
His stomach plummeted. He had waited for so long to be with her, and here she was, throwing it back in is face.
“Lily,” he said, trying to make her see reason, anything but leave him. “I gave you that ring...”
But he had stopped. She wasn't wearing the ring.
He stared, feeling as though he had been pushed off a high ledge.
She held out a hand. When he took it, he felt the tiny band in his palm.
“That’s yours.”
“No, it isn't.” Her face was dry, but the usual certainty she possessed wasn't in her face. “James, please, just go away.”
“OK.” He closed the door behind him, sagging against it and sitting on the floor. From the other side, her heard the closet creak open and closed.
“James!”
He looked up the hall, and saw his father coming over.
“You are supposed to be leaving that girl alone!” hissed Jack.
“Sorry.” James got to his feet. “It won't happen again.” With an awkward hand, he ruffled his hair, and slumped off to his room, before his father could say anything more.
Another ridiculous chapter title. Ignore it.