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'Did you ever consider not coming back?' Lily asks James, watching his hazel eyes skim her conclusion.
It's just the two of them in the common room. The only source of light, the dying embers from the fireplace, the only source of sound, the scratching of quills, the occasional flutter of parchment being passed back and forth, and the odd question.
This question is different. It's not about Transfiguration.
They'd returned rather later than planned from a meeting with Dumbledore this first Sunday in September. As they had walked back to the common room, Lily had confessed that she had planned to spend the evening that she had watched slip through her fingers finishing her transfiguration homework for the following morning. 'I've not done it either,' James had said, 'we can help each other.'
James hadn't done the homework, if Lily knew the first thing about him, because he'd probably planned to do it after his morning run tomorrow, before breakfast. Give him a quill, parchment and thirty minutes to spare, and that boy would write an essay Professor McGonagall would grade to an Outstanding. Help each other - she could have laughed. But she didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. She could need the help, and it was an excuse to keep James to herself for a little longer.
'Many times,' James replies as he passes her the labour of the last two hours. Their hands touch briefly. James clears his throat: 'Sometimes I don't know why I returned. It's not like I need the grades. Dumbledore is happy enough to have me. He knows what I can do. What I want to do.'
There's no false modesty with James Potter; there never has been.
The dying light is reflected in his glasses, and his hair is impossibly messy the way it always is. He seems relaxed and yet Lily can sense the alertness in her friend. James sits tall, ready to fight, the way he has been since he first came to Hogwarts. Only now the enemies are no longer childhood antagonists, but cruel and deadly foes, who kill and torture for sports. Though some times, the two categories overlap.
'Why did you return?'
James shrugs. When he makes no further reply, Lily lets her eyes fall to her conclusion. He has made a couple of corrections on a spare bit of parchment, but overall, not bad from her! "You're in for an E, the question is do you want to settle for second best?" he has written at the top of the note.
Lily doesn't want to settle for second best, yet she does not know how to tell him that. Looking up, she finds him staring out the window, though, in the darkness, there's nothing to see. The windows might as well have been painted with black ink.
'I sometimes worry it was fear,' James confesses. 'Avoiding the real war for one more year.'
His eyes drift back to her face. He looks so grown up, so serious, when he continues: 'Make no mistake, we're losing this war.'
Lily shivers, despite the heat.
'I know.'
The war has destroyed any childish illusions she might have held that if she fought on the right side of history, she would be fighting on the winning side. Good families were ripped apart; innocent lives destroyed; and there was no end in sight. Nobody could promise them a happy ending.
'Only idiots would want to join up.'
'And those of us who have no choice,' Lily adds. What is she meant to do? She can't very well go about pretending that the war doesn't exist. Muggle-borns are not afforded that luxury.
'Of course,' James nods, his eyes softening. 'Though it's not really any of our choices. We've all got to fight! It's all our war.'
For nearly a year, Lily has watched James Potter carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop; waiting for the moment she can finally see the outlines of why he's bad for her. Just like Severus. Just like Petunia. But she's drawing a blank.
The war brings out the best in some, and the worst in others. Maybe the other shoe had been discovering how pure James' heart is - despite everything. A former bully made man. Someone who needs action - the way humans need air - suddenly finding himself in a position to act.
'I don't think fear would ever have let you return to Hogwarts,' Lily says finally.
'Maybe not,' James agrees.
They're sitting in an armchair each. It feels impossibly far away. Too far to accidentally touch James. Yet, it's close enough that she feels the familiar pull; the need to gravitate towards him; be with him. She would gladly take on another essay for their Transfiguration professor just to delay the inevitable goodbye.
'Maybe I needed to change the narrative,' James muses, scratching the back of his neck.
'In what way?'
'There's so much despair. So much death, and misery. Maybe I needed some hope.'
'And you thought you'd find hope at Hogwarts?'
James laughs. It's one of those things that is only funny because the alternative is to recognise how tragic it all is. He-who-must-not-be-named is rumoured to be afraid of Dumbledore. The school is supposedly free of his grip, and yet the horror has seeped into these walls too, forced its way into the corridors; pushed open the doors to the classrooms. Fear can as easily be kept away from a fortress as ghosts. Terror does not know to stop at stone walls. Cruelty does not exist in isolation in a group of Death Eaters, but lives in the hearts of those who want to join that cause later - or simply agree with it.
There is little hope to be found at Hogwarts.
'I could hope to learn something that will keep me alive another month out there.'
'Hopeful indeed,' Lily agrees, feeling her lips curve upwards. 'Who wouldn't want to cling on to the idea that they can keep certain death at bay for a month?'
'You asked!' James teases her.
'Which I very much regret now,' she retorts playfully. 'If I knew I'd be treated to such cheerful optimism, I would have kept my mouth shut!'
They look at each other, and Lily can see her own emerald eyes reflected in his glasses. James suddenly breaks eye contact, bends down, and starts stuffing his papers back in his bag. Lily's heart sinks as she watches him prepare to leave.
As he stands up, he hesitates-:
'Maybe I hoped that there were still a couple of chapters left to be written at Hogwarts.'
'Like being Head Boy?'
'Like that,' James smiles, but this time, his smile is brief. It doesn't meet his eyes.
'Or go on a date with a beautiful girl,' he continues.
Lily's heart skips a beat, hoping that he might finally ask her out again. Instead, he comes to sit on her armrest.
'I need to mess up at least one date, don't you think?'
'That shouldn't be too hard,' Lily offers, feeling a little breathless.
'I'll end up being late to the date because I will lose track of time. She'll pretend it's okay, naturally, for about two hours. Once she has established that there isn't that much to me, however, other than the sweets I've already bought for her and the coffee we are currently having, she'll end the date, publicly, right there and then. Loudly too, for good measure. Sufficiently humiliated, I'll pay for the drinks and go find the boys - none of which will have dates, trust me.'
'Of course,' Lily agrees automatically because she's expected to. Her heart is not in it - mourning instead how she had believed, for just one second...
'They'll convince me to get impossibly drunk - not that much encouragement is needed, mind you, not after that date - and then we'll stagger back to Howarts.'
James looks down at her then. They're so close. She could lean her head a little to her left, and she would be resting it in his lap.
'You will be here, telling me what a disappointing Head Boy I am. You told Dumbledore I was a mistake the moment you learned about the appointment, implored him, in fact, to change his mind, and now, look at what I've done. Don't you think a chapter like that needs to be written?'
'You know I never said such a thing in real life.'
Lily can't join in on the joke. It's not funny. She wants to run up to her dormitory, to cry or scream or hex someone, because she can't figure him out and she does not want to ruin a perfectly good friendship. But she wants more. Sometimes, she thinks - or possibly hopes - he wants more too.
James continues to study her. Lily cannot read his expression.
'And you know that in real life, I would only ever want to go on a date with one girl.' James' voice is quiet. 'But she turned me down, so, you see, it's all about hope.'
'Yes,' she says, without thinking, because it's what she's wanted to hear for so long. James is hers. Still. Miraculously. Somehow he has not given up on her. Petunia gave up on her because she was magic. Severus gave up on her because she wasn't magic enough for his friends. But James is still here.
When James makes no reply, just keeps sitting there - looking possibly a little unsure of himself - Lily realises he has no idea what she just said yes to. Tembling ever so slightly, she takes his hand: 'Yes, James, I know now. And yes, I want to go on a date with you too.'
A thousand different emotions cross James' face. His eyes widen; his hand grasps hers tightly, and his face flushes. He looks a little scared, even: 'Really?'
The voice puts her in mind of a much younger James. A giggle escapes her.
'Really,' she squeezes his hand.
A smile spreads across his face: warm, and big, and bright. It is so different from the darkness that hangs over them constantly.
Hope, Lily thinks. Hope, and love, and bravery. Those are the things that are going to turn the tidings of this war. They're going to change the narrative, Lily and James, and Sirius, Remus and Peter. She can feel it. But first, James is going to take her on a date.