Never All Together

Chapter 12: Let Me Be Your Wings

When you try your best
But you don't succeed
When you get what you want
But not what you need
When you feel so tired
But you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming
Down your face
When you lose something
You can't replace
When you love someone
But it goes to waste

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you.

--- Chris Martin (Fix You) ---

"What's that?" James asked distractedly, his eyes still adjusting to the dark. He, Sirius and Peter were making their way to the Shrieking Shack after a rushed dinner.

"Hermione Granger," Peter repeated. "Do you know anyone with that name?"

"Nuh -- uh," Sirius mumbled.

James also shook his head. "No, why?"

"She's seated at the Gryffindor table right now, and I've never seen her name before," Peter explained.

"Oh, probably just one of the more obscure, younger students we haven't experimented our tricks on yet," Sirius commented carelessly.

Peter did not look entirely convinced. Nevertheless, he tapped the map blank, rolled it and tucked it into his pocket.

* * * * * * *

The first week of February dawned with the melting of the snow that covered Hogwarts and the persistence of a dreary chill in the air. Sirius was sprawled on James's bed, celebrating the end of his two-week long sanction by mentally conjuring up new ways of hexing Severus Snape. "Oooohhh, the possibilities are endless," he said enthusiastically.

Remus, who was seated at the edge of James's bed along with Peter, reminded him, "You better wait until tomorrow, Padfoot. Prongs has a lot riding on tonight." He watched James shrink the large, white teddy bear and the box of Honeydukes' chocolate, both of which he had bought after sneaking out to Hogsmeade earlier that day.

Sirius stifled a laugh as James turned his attention to the variety of flowers scattered on the floor and tried to create a beautiful arrangement out of them. He, Peter and Remus had stayed outside, unwillingly, until after Quidditch practice, to help James pick out the flowers.

"This is totally unnecessary," Sirius had complained as a thorn pricked his finger. He had taken out his wand and cursed the plant until it shrivelled up. "Even that trip to Hogsmeade was pointless. I mean, you can conjure all this out of thin air!"

James had smiled that peaceful smile again, the one he always wore whenever he thought about Lily. "I want her to see I put a lot of effort into tonight, Sirius. I want her to be touched, to know I mean everything I'm going to say."

Sirius merely grumbled incoherently, but Remus thought he heard something about love making fools out of people. Privately, Remus believed James was going about everything the right way. If he had to impress a girl, he too would go all out just to please her. Except that he could never really summon enough courage to try, of course, with his curse -- his furry little problem -- always hanging over him. He knocked his fist on his head a couple of times to drive the dismal thoughts away.

Now James seemed to have decided a little magic wouldn't hurt. He waved his wand, which was made of mahogany, over the flowers, and they gathered themselves up immediately to form an exquisite bouquet. He smiled, satisfied, and then shrank the bunch of flowers. He slid the diminutive chocolates, stuffed toy and flower arrangement into his pocket and then crouched on all fours to peer under his bed.

"What are you looking for?" Peter asked, swinging his legs up so James could have a better view.

"My Nimbus," James answered, stretching one arm to grab his broomstick. He stood up, one hand grasping its handle while the other brushed dust off his robes. In answer to their questioning faces, he grinned and messed up his hair. "I'm going to take her flying afterwards," he told them happily.

Remus smiled, amused. James was acting like a kid waiting for Christmas. "You really have everything planned, don't you?" He fervently hoped Lily would finally see James in a different light. He really likes her. "Good luck, James."

James rubbed his hands together. "I know it's unbelievable, but I'm really nervous."

"Why should you be?" Sirius asked. "You've done this three hundred something times before. If she says no again tonight, you can still keep on asking her."

James frowned, and Remus slapped Sirius hard on his leg.

"Don't mind him, James. You can do it," Remus said encouragingly. "Just remember to be yourself -- your more sensitive self, that is."

"I'll try," he answered, his eyebrows still knitted together. James had vowed to himself that tonight would be his last shot at winning Lily Evans over and therefore refused to entertain any thoughts of rejection. He pointed his wand at his Nimbus 1500, and at his Invisibility Cloak as well, and reduced both to pocket-size replicas. He tucked them into his robes and turned to look at Remus with a sudden smile. An idea just hit him.

"Hey, why don't you ask her out too?" James asked.

Remus' eyebrows jumped and his pulse quickened. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, prat," James answered teasingly. "Why don't you ask Regina to go with you next weekend? You know you want to. Besides, it might make Lily more comfortable, having another girl around." He spoke as though Lily had already said yes.

"I don't think--"

"How hard could it be?" James wondered. "Just approach her and tell her you'd love her company in Hogsmeade next weekend."

Sirius snorted. "Look who's talking. Mr. Smooth himself."

James flushed. "Yeah, well, this is not Lily and me we're talking about." He turned to Remus. "So what about it, huh?"

Remus just grimaced, and James realised his friend needed more encouragement. "She already knows, you know," he said casually.

Sirius sat up on the bed, and Peter slid to the floor, both of them staring open-mouthed. Remus was thunderstruck. "What does she know?" he asked abruptly. There was no way James could be talking about that, was there?

James held his hands up. "Hey, I didn't say anything," he said. "Last month, she saw the three of us hurrying with dinner and figured we wanted to see you in the hospital wing, because you told her you were sick. She wanted to come and visit you, but we told her you weren't there. And then she--" He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I know this is going to sound odd, but I saw her look up at the ceiling. She shivered when she saw the full moon, and when she looked at me afterwards, there was that look of comprehension on her face."

"Listen to yourself, James. You are not making any sense, jumping to unwarranted conclusions just because of a few faulty assumptions--"

James glared at Sirius. "I am sane enough, Padfoot. I know what I saw, and Regina is as easy as a book to read. She knows."

"She might have had her suspicions. That's all," Sirius argued. "She can't have cottoned on to that fact that easily. No one's that smart."

Remus was staring intently at the floor, and the three other Marauders watched him, waiting for him to speak. After several moments of silence, he finally looked up, his face drained and his blue eyes almost fearful.

"What did she say?" His voice was almost a whisper, but it was difficult to miss its tremor.

James met his friend's eyes levelly. "She didn't say anything, Moony. But I know she doesn't care that you're a werewolf."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know that," he told James, almost accusingly.

"You can ask her if you want," Peter piped in.

Sirius scowled at the blond, pudgy boy. "That would make a cheerful conversation. 'Hey, Regina, James told me you know I'm a werewolf. Is that true?' And then, just in case she wasn't really aware of that at all, what do you say? 'Keep it a secret?' What a load of dung. Of course, you could tell her James was joking--"

"I do know," James reassured Remus, cutting off Sirius' monologue. "Listen, mate, did you notice any difference in the way she had been treating you the week after that night? Did you see her trying to avoid you? Does she even act like she pities you?"

"No," Remus admitted weakly, without even thinking.

"I thought so," James said. "You've always been such a busybody with me and Lily, telling me how to act and what to say. I'm merely returning the favour, trying to pound some sense into your stubborn skull." James smirked. "But let me ask you one thing first. Do you like her? Do you think you'd like to get to know her better?"

Remus fell silent once more. James's questions rang in his head, along with memories of the moments he spent with her, arousing thoughts and emotions he prayed he would never encounter. What did it matter how he felt anyway? Nobody would ever like a bloody werewolf. His fellow Marauders were different, but then again, brotherly friendships were one thing; a romantic relationship was another. He just -- he wasn't the kind of man who could count on attracting any woman, much less a lovely, smart one like her.

"Do you?" James repeated, more gently this time.

"Yes." It was a difficult confession to make.

Peter patted Remus on the shoulder comfortingly while Sirius sank back onto the bed, muttering, "Great. Now we have two sentimental, lovesick Marauders. Just what is the world coming to?"

James smiled. "Good," he approved briskly. "I just love being right. Ask her out then. Give her a chance to know who you really are. That was what you told me, wasn't it? If she has sense, like you said she does, then she'll say yes," he added smugly.

Remus smiled feebly. "We'll see," he said. He appreciated James's concern, but he needed time to sort things out alone. He would think over these without the influence of James's infinite optimism. "Now, Prongs, you better run along, or you'll be late."

"Right. I'll consider it a done deal then, Moony," James said before heading to the door.

"Good luck!" Peter called. "We'll be waiting up for you so you can tell us how everything went."

James winked. "I'd rather you not. We might take long." He gave one final wave and walked down the stairs to the common room, where he spotted Hermione, curled up once more with a book. Probably another one she borrowed from Remus. He approached her.

"Hey," he greeted warmly.

Hermione looked up, and her face broke into a smile. "Hey," she repeated, her eyes taking in his presence. "Is it tonight?"

"Yes," James answered. "But I wanted to thank you again, for all the help--"

She waved the rest of his words away. "Oh, don't mention it. What are friends for?"

Friends. James's smile widened. "Let me thank you, nevertheless." He glanced at the clock. "Now I really should get going."

Was it just his imagination, or did she look slightly crestfallen at his last few words?

"Yeah, you'd better," Hermione agreed softly. "Good luck."

James thanked her one more time and made his way to the door. Hermione put her book away and watched him leave, a wistful expression on her face. She put her hand to her neck and fumbled for the hourglass, as though to remind herself how and why she was there. But she still didn't know what to wish for anymore.

Hermione frowned, remembering once again her reservations about what to do with Peter. She had made up her mind not to tell the other Marauders about what he was going to do in the future, simply because he was a necessary evil. His disloyalty turned out to be for his friends' benefit in the end, but that was the first time around. She wasn't here then.

And now she was here. The book warned of Time-Turners being perilous, stating that people who wield them could drastically alter the future. That would mean then that she wasn't exactly reliving history. Anything could still happen, especially if she did not keep things the way they should be. In that case, she would be recreating the past, and most probably be changing what should have been in store for all of them. But then, it would be difficult not to. There were too many factors to remember, too many possibilities to consider; they they were all making her head spin.

Funny. I thought that once you go back into the past armed with knowledge of the future, things would be a lot easier to decide on. It was becoming clear that what made time very difficult to deal with was that there were no pat answers, no definite consequences. It rendered time travel complex, and therefore almost useless.

Or maybe not entirely. Hermione chewed on her lower lip, thinking. After all, prudence was necessary only if she still wanted to go back to her time. If I return to the future, I won't be with him. Such a decision was her last resort, for she would admit defeat only if Lily decided she finally wanted to be with James. Since she still showed no signs of doing that just yet -- she was so stupid -- Hermione could wait until it was her turn. She wasn't in any hurry.

Whatever happens, happens.

* * * * * * *

"Glad you could join me," Lily greeted him sarcastically, when James met her outside the Great Hall a little past eight.

Like five minutes count as late, James refrained from replying, wanting so much to start off right. "I'm sorry," he said instead, smiling softly.

Far from being appeased, however, Lily just looked more annoyed. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. Did Potter just apologise to me? Well, there's a first time for everything. She looked at him and saw that he was watching her intently, as though gauging her reaction. Unnerved, she turned her back on him and walked away.

James caught up with her without saying anything else. Together, and yet without speaking to each other, they searched the classrooms, the dungeons, the hallways -- and even the broom cupboards. He stifled a laugh as Lily told off two fourth-year Ravenclaws they caught snogging inside one of the closets.

"To your common room. Now," Lily ordered sternly. The fourth-years scrambled out of their hiding place and hurriedly walked away from them.

A small smile played across his lips while he watched Lily efficiently set about their tasks for the night. Lily had that unusual combination of beauty and brains that made her so attractive to him, but other boys his age just did not -- could not -- appreciate how simple and conservative she was. To them, she was no fun at all. James, on the other hand, admired her discipline and the constancy with which she always wanted to do what was right. Ultimately, these qualities were what convinced him Lily was the woman he wanted -- and was going to -- share the rest of his life with.

But I mustn't get too carried away yet.

He followed Lily as she marched up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, which was always last on their nightly itinerary. James planned to do it here, under the stars, while they were wrapped with the cool wind. He glanced up at the sky, noticed the storm clouds gathering, and prayed it wouldn't rain just yet.

Lily lit her wand and glanced around several times to ensure that no students were hanging out after hours. Satisfied that there were none, she turned on her heels and silently headed back to the stairway.

Their time tonight was over.

It was now or never.

"Lily, wait!" James called out.

She stopped in her tracks and looked back at him in surprise. It was the first time he had spoken since he apologised for being late. "What is it?" she asked, almost curiously.

Encouraged when she did not snap or yell at him, he closed the distance between them until he was only a couple of feet away. James slid his hand into his pocket and groped for his wand. He took it out, returned his hand into his robes and pulled a very tiny object out.

It was the miniature bouquet of flowers. James pointed his wand at it, and it bloomed into the majestic floral arrangement it was earlier. He handed it clumsily to her.

"This is for you," he said, pleased when he saw Lily's green eyes widen. He reached once more into his pocket and retrieved the diminutive teddy bear and box of chocolates, restoring them to their normal sizes. "And this," he said, offering the teddy bear first. "And these too," he finished, giving her the box of chocolates. She took all of them, speechless.

Standing there with her arms wrapped around the gifts, Lily was so shocked, she could hardly even breathe. James was looking down adoringly at her, his hazel eyes glowing with intensity and... tenderness? Surely that wasn't right. Since when did Potter become this... this... Her brain wasn't functioning properly, it couldn't even supply her with the right word. That clearly signalled danger. So why wasn't she feeling any need to run as fast and as far as she could?

James continued staring at her, watching conflicting emotions run through her eyes. He knew he would break the spell that seemed to envelope them if he decided to speak, and so he waited.

Finally, Lily broke eye contact and glanced self-consciously at the goods in her arms. "I, uh, I--" She shook her head slightly. Her supply of oxygen must have been totally depleted, with her stuttering like this in front of him. "What are -- what are these?" she managed to say.

James blinked. "Oh," he said. "Flowers, a white teddy bear, and a box of chocolates," he said in a rush, pointing to each item as he named it.

Lily made a sound that was between a laugh and a snort. "No, I meant -- well -- what are these for?"

James scratched his head in confusion. "For you," he answered stupidly.

His ridiculous answer annoyed her and somewhat helped her recover from the dreaminess that had overcome her earlier. For me? All of these are for me? Just what in the name of Merlin is he trying to pull? She rolled her eyes. "You already said that. What I wanted to ask was why then are you giving me these?" she said warily.

James was jolted out of his bewilderment by the sharp change in Lily's voice. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he still didn't know how to say what he wanted. "I was wondering if--" No, that's too hasty. "Maybe you would like--" That doesn't sound right, either.

He exhaled, restraining himself from taking Lily by the hand. He remembered how easily he had instructed Remus to ask Regina out. It's amazing how straightforwardly a guy can ask a girl he doesn't really like, and how he bleeds for words to say when he's asking a girl he really likes, he reflected.

"Listen, Lily," James began earnestly. "I know I'm coming across like a fool but I--" He swallowed hard. Here goes. "I like you. I really like you. A lot."

"I wish you would give me a chance," James continued softly. "Go out with me this Valentine's day. I promise you won't regret it." His heart was pounding so fast. The words were out. He had been a dork, suffered being called a sap, done everything he was supposed to. The rest -- their future, the one he insisted they would share -- were in her hands now.

Any ordinary girl would have melted at his words, but Lily Evans was no ordinary girl. Oh, no. Here we go again. And I thought he had finally learned his lesson. Lily frowned. "Potter, I admire your persistence, but I already said no, didn't I? What made you think my answer was going to change?"

His eyebrows jumped. She couldn't be thinking of declining his invitation again. She's just trying to rile you, like Remus said. Don't bite. But he couldn't very well tell her that he expected her to say yes because it was his prize for behaving properly the past two weeks. That would make everything sound like fake, like a mere game.

"Well, because I--"

"What?" Lily interrupted. "Because you gave me these?" she asked, nodding towards the gifts she held. "Did you think pieces of flora, a bunch of cotton stuffed inside a cloth and brown gooey stuff were enough to improve your chances with me?" She had finally put her finger on what had been bothering her for the past fortnight. It didn't make sense that after ignoring her for a while, he was back on his knees again, begging her to go out with him -- unless everything had been set carefully, like a stage for a play. "Or is it because you and your friends have been practicing your manners lately?"

"I don't know what you mean," James said uneasily. He didn't understand how things had taken a turn for the worse. Wasn't she warmly looking into his eyes only a few moments ago?

"I know you do," Lily whispered fiercely. "You and your pathetic little friends planned that I'm-so-mature act, didn't you, just to prove that you've changed, that you care about people aside from yourselves. I've got to admit, you had almost everyone fooled." She threw her head back and tossed her chin up defiantly. "Everyone except me, of course. Leopards don't change their spots overnight, Potter. I don't care how many weeks you keep running that show because for me, you're still the conceited, inconsiderate slob I despise."

Lily shoved the flowers, stuffed toy and chocolates towards James. "I don't need all these presents either. I can conjure them out of thin air in an instant -- and I'm sure you can too." She did not anticipate the pain that flash through his eyes at the sarcasm in her words, but she had most likely imagined it. James Potter was immune to such anguish and would probably be laughing about it in his dormitory later.

"You've got it all wrong," James said quietly, pleadingly. "It wasn't an act."

Lily laughed scathingly. "Spare me your ludicrous excuses. I don't have patience for any of them." She turned on her heels and walked towards the stairs. Just before she took the first step down, however, she faced him one more time.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart, Potter. When are you going to give up on me? If I were you, I'd have given up on myself a long time ago."

James's face darkened. His patience had reached its limit. He clenched his jaw and looked straight at her. "If that's what pleases you," he said, his voice deadly calm, "then I will." His eyes burned into hers until she couldn't take any more, and she rushed down the stairs.

Once the sound of her footsteps receded, James turned to face the night once more. The stars twinkled brightly despite the clouds that had gathered, mocking his misfortune. He didn't think another rejection from her would be this painful, but maybe it was because he had spent so much time and effort preparing for what was supposed to be the most wonderful night of both their lives.

Who am I kidding? She hates me. It wasn't enough that she said no. She had to add just how much she despised him, had to rub in how many times he had failed and how pitiful he was to keep chasing her still. His pride could only take so much humiliation. Who did she think she was anyway? The severity of her words came back, and remembered pain sliced through him again. James threw the presents he was supposed to give to her and set them on fire, bizarrely finding comfort in the idea that his heart wasn't the only one being razed at the moment. The unspoken vow he had made a few days ago with himself came back to him. No more.

The fire he created flickered dangerously to being extinguished as he felt sparse raindrops caress his face and arms. He looked up at the dark sky and realised that it had started to drizzle, and that the rain would soon be falling heavily. James returned inside the castle, under his cloak, and made his way to the fourth floor, where another secret passage leading to Hogsmeade was located.

Outside, the cold torrent surged forth from heaven.

* * * * * * *

Hermione stared at the book on her lap without really seeing anything. It was half past nine already, and neither James nor Lily had returned from their rounds yet. Jealousy seared through her. She probably said yes already, Hermione thought morosely as she flicked idly through the pages. I myself would have, seeing how he really wanted to make tonight special. And now they're probably confessing their love for each other, kissing madly... Hermione wanted to throw the book into the fire. That's it. I'm going home.

The door to the common room suddenly opened. Lily marched in, her cheeks flushed. Hermione half-expected James to be behind her, but the redhead was alone.

Their eyes met.

"Have you seen Ja--Potter?" Lily demanded, strands of her hair clinging to her cheek.

This is the first time she's talked to me, and already she's asking me about James, Hermione realised. "No," she responded evenly. "I thought you were with him?" Judging from Lily's scowl, things were not good.

Lily nervously sifted through her hair. "I was," she said. "But I -- we--"

"Did something happen to him?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Lily shook her head guiltily. "No. Never mind. It doesn't matter." Without another word, she rushed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Hermione frowned. What did that mean? And where was James?

Descending footsteps from the other side of the room caught her attention, and she inclined her head towards the sound just as it stopped.

Remus was at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her. "Was that James?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was just Lily."

Tacit words passed between them, and soon, Remus was sharing her frown. He walked towards her and sat on the couch opposite her. "That's not good, then."

"It's not," Hermione agreed. She didn't like where the conversation was going, so she returned her attention to the book.

There was silence. Remus played with his hands, glancing furtively at Hermione from time to time. Should he do it tonight? Despite James's reassuring words, he still could not muster enough bravado to invite her to Hogsmeade next weekend. But he knew that if he didn't, he was bound to regret it later on. He took a deep breath.

"Regina?" Remus asked, carefully watching her reaction.

Her wide-set brown eyes lifted from the text she was reading to look into his. She smiled faintly. "What is it, Remus?"

His ego bolstered, Remus decided right then and there that he would ask her. "I was wondering -- no, thinking -- if maybe you would like... I mean, just in case you'd like to..." He grimaced, berating himself silently for plunging ahead without being ready. So much for teaching James on what to say each time. Hey, what was that he told me I should say? He racked his mind, trying to recall. James, James. What was that again?

Hermione was looking at him strangely. "Yes?" she prompted.

"Would you like to wait up for James?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even go over them again inside his head. Oh, bugger.

Her eyes widened. What is he on to?

Remus, mistaking her reaction for irritation, hurriedly added, "I mean, if you're still going to read, that's all. Of course, you can go to bed right now, but just in case... Just in case you're going to be up for some time, I thought you could wait for him." He mentally slapped himself for blabbering like an idiot.

The best defence is a strong offence. Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she answered, trying to sound vehement. "Who is he anyway, that I should stay up late to wait for him? I am not his wife." Nice choice of words, Granger, a voice jeered inside her head.

Remus was taken aback at her intense reaction. "I'm so--sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

So maybe I went over the top. Hermione sighed. "No, it wasn't your fault, Remus. I'm just tired. I think I better get some rest now. You should too." She stood up. "Goodnight."

Remus followed suit, dismayed at how things had gone and how abruptly they had ended. "Goodnight. I guess we'll just wait for James upstairs."

The two of them made their way to the stairs to their dormitories. Hermione, however, knew she could never close her eyes without knowing where James was and what had happened to him. Once upstairs, she merely grabbed the white blanket above her pillows and then silently padded her feet down the stairs. She reclaimed her place on the couch nearest the fireplace, crept under the sheets and opened the book once more.

Her eyelids began to droop after half an hour of reading, and soon she had drifted off to sleep.

"Hang on, I forgot the password -- why the hell are you jerking off?"

Hermione sat up sleepily and checked the clock. It was already past one in the morning; she must have dozed off in the common room. As she tried to remember why she wasn't in bed in the first place, she wondered where the loud voice came from.

"--You certainly can't expect me to put off my sleep, waiting for you to come to your senses--"

"Just let me in! I'm Head Boy!" A powerful thud at the door followed those angry words.

"Dear boy," a woman's voice chided, "I do not care if you're the Headmaster himself. Unless you give me the password, I'm afraid I cannot allow you inside."

Wide awake now, Hermione tossed her blanket aside and rushed to the portrait hole, pushing the door open.

As she climbed out, the Fat Lady greeted triumphantly, "Ah, good thing you're here, my dear. This rogue's trying to force entry into the Gryffindor chambers--"

"Come off it, he's Head Boy," Hermione told her testily, cutting her short. She turned to look at James and gasped, clamping a hand to her mouth in shock.

"You see? He does not even look like a Head Boy," the Fat Lady commented nastily. "What a disgrace."

The Fat Lady was right this time. James was drenched, his robes dripping and streaked with mud. His eyes were bloodshot and dazed, and he smelled distinctly of Firewhiskey and Merlin knew what else. He was holding his Nimbus in his right hand, which either indicated that he went flying despite the stormy weather or that he was using it to support him, as he was simply too woozy to stand on his own -- or both. He was also holding his left arm in a strange angle, and Hermione feared the joint in his elbow had been dislocated.

He was swaying on the spot, looking like he was ready to collapse. Hermione took his broomstick from him and put his right arm around her shoulder to help him up. She started for the open portrait hole, but the Fat Lady had swung it closed again.

"Password?" she asked with a yawn.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Golden Lily," she snapped. James had changed the password, in anticipation of tonight, only a couple of days ago.

The Fat Lady yawned once more and slid open to admit them. Hermione struggled with James's weight as she dragged him to a long, empty couch. He flopped down helplessly on it while Hermione slowly placed his Nimbus on the floor and took her seat on the armchair she previously occupied. She watched him and wondered what to do next while he stared despairingly into the fire.

"You're drunk," Hermione whispered delicately. It was the worst she had seen him yet.

James laughed bitterly. "That's right. Wasted," he agreed drunkenly, stretching his legs out. "And why shouldn't I be?" He pressed on without waiting for an answer. "I'm just not good enough for her; I'm also despicable enough for her to hate me."

So that was what happened. Hermione swallowed, her heart aching for him. She knew his pain well enough to share it with him. She had hoped, in the deepest corners of her heart, that he would fail again tonight. And then maybe -- just maybe -- he would finally give up on Lily. What she had not counted on was him being so devastated, so crushed, that he would turn to extreme measures to forget. It was almost unbelievable how Lily had turned him -- confident, self-assured James Potter -- into a total wreck. And how was she supposed to comfort him when she felt guilty for wanting this herself?

Even some medicines are necessarily painful to bring about a full recovery, Hermione justified to herself. "Listen, James, tomorrow--"

"No," he said fiercely, his anger unmistakable even through his slurred voice. "It's over. She's hurt me for the last time. That's for sure." He glanced irritably at her. "Why are you forcing me to talk about her anyway? Bloody hell, I drowned myself in Firewhiskey to forget, not to remember."

There was silence for a few moments, and then Hermione remembered that James was soaking wet from the rain. "Let me help you clean up," she said softly. He merely looked at her, his eyes devoid of light. She had never seen him like that; it was almost frightening. She stood up and waved her wand twice wordlessly over him, drying his clothes first and then scouring off the mud. Just as she had finished, however, James doubled over himself and coughed violently. He clutched his middle as he retched onto the Gryffindor carpet.

Hermione stood still in shock for a moment and sighed wearily. She pointed her wand at the carpet and muttered another Cleansing Charm. One spell wasn't able to complete the job, however, probably because the mess stuck to the fibres of the rug. She repeated it another three times until even the smell had disappeared, flicked her wand and conjured a cup of strong, black coffee.

"Here. Drink this; it'll help," she said, looking down at James to hand him the cup, but saw that he had already fallen asleep. Hermione smiled sadly and banished the cup with another flick of her wand. She sat down next to him, took off his glasses and set them on a nearby table. She used that stick of vine wood yet again to produce, out of thin air, a basin of water and a small towel this time. She soaked the cloth in the warm water and twisted it dry. Cupping James's right cheek in her left hand, she gently wiped his face with her other hand.

I love him.

James murmured something she did not catch.

"James," she whispered, tenderly stroking his jaw line.

"Lily," he muttered with a sense of desperation, scrunching up his face as though in pain.

Her eyes filled with tears. Even in his state of intoxicated sleep, it was her he was thinking about.

She stood up from the couch, pushed his upper body to down to help him recline and lifted his legs up from the floor so that he could sleep more comfortably. She adjusted the position of his left arm, which was indeed damaged, to where he would not accidentally lie on it. Hermione retrieved her blanket afterwards and covered him with the warm sheet, looking devotedly at him. He needs it more than me. Besides, her own couch was nearer the fire.

Sighing unhappily, Hermione curled up in a smaller armchair, which was her makeshift bed, and tried to fall asleep.