James darted out of bed, hastily pulling on a pair of jeans. The scrapbook must have been left in the Room of Requirement, which left James with a rather large predicament. He wasn't sure whether the Room would have vanished; and this left two problems. What if someone wandered into the Room and found the book?

Alternatively - What if the room had absorbed the book with it?

Halfway down the stairs, James paused. Something was moving around the common room.

Leaning forward just slightly, he peered around the corner of the stairwell, and a familiar site caught his eyes – a mass of straight, wine-red hair.

What was Lily doing awake at this hour?

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, James listened intently. And there it was – a sob. James thought he was going to throw up.

Making the rest of his way down the stairs quietly, he rounded the corner and paused. There was Lily, sitting in front of the fire, her dressing gown secured firmly around her. Beside her sat a handsomely carved wooden box: the lid was open, and the contents appeared to be sprawled across the hearthrug. James watched, confused, as Lily selected an object at random and tossed it into the fire, muffling another sob. James' eyes wandered over the various objects: a bundle of letters, what appeared to be a few photographs, some pressed flowers… His eyes lit on the coffee table and James' worst fears were confirmed. For there sat that dratted Rita's Book of Evidence. James felt, for a book, it appeared to be presiding over this scene of chaos with some satisfaction.

"Lily?"

He called her name tentatively, reluctant to make his presence known, but even more reluctant to remain a silent observer. The wretched girl turned to gaze at him: her almond shaped eyes fixed upon his own, and James startled to see the depth of pain that lay within them. Which was exactly why he hadn't planned on telling her at all!

"Lily, what are you doing?"

He knelt beside her on the hearthrug, and hesitantly stretched an arm across her shoulders, pulling her to him. The girl sniffed delicately.

"S-spring cleaning," she managed to mumble, tossing the bundle of letters in her hand into the flames.

James bit back the obvious reply of 'But it's Autumn!'

They sat together; his arm curled around her waist, watching the flames lick at the paper, slowly disintegrating it.

"He – he cheated on me!" the girl finally expelled, her voice wobbling.

Lily turned to him, eyes wide. "Did you know?" she demanded quietly. "Did you know, that he was…?"

Unwilling and unable to lie to her directly, James gave a short nod. Lily watched him solemnly, as if struggling to come to a decision, and for several minutes, James expected her to scream at him. Instead, much to his surprise, she nodded, and settled her head back against his shoulder.

James regarded her crown of hair, confused. Lily shouldhave thrown at least three good hexes at him by now, and instead, she remained on the hearthrug beside him, leaning against him. Allowing him to support her.

James allowed himself a small, shortly lived smile. Perhaps Lily was starting to realize he wasn't so bad after all?

Lily leant away from him again, tucking her knees up to her chest. "I think I'd like to be alone, please, Potter."

James frowned. Somehow, he didn't think alone was such a good idea. He watched her stare determinedly into the fire, before sighing.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he told her, the sincerity in his voice a sharp pain to her ears.

Lily didn't reply. Instead, James echoed her movement, drawing his knees up to his chest and turning to watch the fire. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he dimly registered: but, despite the cold, this didn't seem to matter.

What seemed likes hours passed in a blur, and they sat together watching as the fire burnt lower and lower in the grate. Lily's box of trinkets lay forgotten between them; she had abandoned their ceremonial burning as soon as James had arrived.

Quite suddenly, at what James guessed would have been about three in the morning, Lily appeared to wake from her stupor, and suddenly glanced over to him.

"Potter, am I beautiful?"

James blinked. What sort of a question is that?

She watched him expectantly, her eyes very green, and he couldn't help but notice the deep rings that had begun to form beneath them. James supposed he probably had them too, having not had much sleep the previous night either.

James tossed up his options. On one hand, he could be completely honest, and drive her away with his intensity. On the other, he could lie outright. James frowned, before settling with the truth, so far as he could see it, anyway.

"Lily Evans, you are the most beautiful girl in the world."

Lily sniffed, then, in a move that further shocked James, frowned too.

"Do ya think?" she mumbled. "Art said he could never tell, with me. Hadn't seen all of me, you see."

James winced, uncomfortable and relieved all at once.

"Art... Art said you could never tell beauty 'til you stripped away the layers," Lily continued softly, her focus returned to the fire.

James knew the sort of beauty that Art had been referring to: the beauty of a physical kind; the shallow, trivial aspect of beauty that was all-important for narcissists like him. But James knew and appreciated the true beauty of Lily. The way her face lit up as she smiled, the gentle softness of her skin, yes… but also, the fire in her eyes, the persistence of her temper, the immeasurable extent of her kindness, and wit, and intelligence.

"Lily, you don't have to sleep with anyone to feel beautiful," James told her gently.

Lily nodded tiredly. "I know, I know," she murmured distractedly. "Art didn't understand that though. Stupid men! Why do you always have to be so… so… self absorbed! Bastards!"

Lily's exhausted mumbling stung James ears, although he seemed to understand that Lily didn't really mean him. He watched her critically. She was falling asleep, her head jerking every now and then. James stood up, carefully stepped over the mess and lifted Lily easily into his arms.

"You need to get some sleep," he told her gently.

She nodded, looking up at him with eyes half opened, trusting… She smiled then, and nuzzled herself against his chest.

James carried her upstairs and slipped her into her own bed, tucking in the sheets securely around her, and fluffing her pillows, before dropping into her padded window seat and drifting off to sleep himself.

Thursday morning dawned clear and cool, and James was jerked awake by the dawn light flooding in through the un-shuttered window. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the window seat and stretching his back. Lily slept peacefully in her bed, looking vulnerable and pretty in the early morning light. Smiling slightly, he leant back against the pillows to watch her.

The next time James awoke, the sun was well and truly rising. It cast its golden glow across the Lake, and although the sunlight did not directly hit Lily's window, it seemed to fill the room. Lily muttered and stirred, which in turn woke James: while Lily rolled over and resettled herself, James did not. A quick check of his watch told him that it was 7:30am. A quick assessment of his patient told him that Lily would be spending the day in bed.

Finding parchment and a quill on her desk, he scribbled a quick note, which he left on her spare pillow, before setting off to get ready.

Surveying the common room on his way out to breakfast, James noticed the scattered contents of the trinket box still strewn across the rug. With a quick flick of his wand, they all gathered, before flying back into the little carved box. Snapping the lid shut, James looked around the room, wondering where he could stash it: he suspected the box was the last thing Lily would want to see today. Finally settling on the study, he slipped it onto the highest shelf, beside a tattered assortment of old books, before gathering up his own books and going down to breakfast.

Sirius greeted him tiredly, the look in his eyes becoming instantly anxious as James simply shook his head.

"She found the scrapbook," he murmured tiredly, sliding onto the bench beside Peter.

The Marauders watched him, concerned.

"It wasn't a good night," he added, unnecessarily.

James slid into his normal seat in Transfiguration, swamped with the overwhelming need to sleep. Sirius sat beside him, frowning as he gazed off into the distance, and James had the distinctly anticipatory feeling that Sirius was scheming.

Someone coughed behind him, and James turned to find Emmeline, eyeing him rather guiltily. They looked at each other for a while, and it slowly dawned on James…Emmeline had been in the Tower last night…

"Where's Lily?" she asked tentatively.

James frowned, his suspicions all but confirmed. Emmeline had given Lily the scrapbook?

Running his fingers through his hair, he searched her eyes, and found no malice.

She'd wanted Lily to know… but for Lily's sake.

"She's ill," he mumbled.

Emmeline looked startled, but nodded shortly, and as Professor McGonagall had just entered the classroom, Emmeline moved to take her seat.

What would Lily do? James wondered. He was much too tired to be angry with Emmeline, and even though he didn't agree with the way she had obviously chosen to tell Lily, she had had Lily's best interests at heart. Lily wouldn't be angry, James realised. She'd be upset – but she'd understand. James resolved to become more understanding.

Sirius had perked up considerably by lunchtime, and he sat at the Gryffindor table, actually smiling, and occasionally glancing expectantly toward the doors. Catching James' eye, he just grinned mysteriously at his friend's questioning look.

Emmeline appeared behind James, and Sirius jerked his head, indicating her presence. James turned to see her, and something flickered across his face – was it disappointment? Emmeline muttered something, and James stood quickly, mumbling an apology. They briskly left the hall together. Sirius couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed himself.

Remus watched them go, and then looked at Sirius. The handsome boy wore his enigma face – something that usually told Remus to tread with caution.

"Sirius, what's going on?" Or not.

Sirius grinned. "Just wait, Moony. Any minute now, I promise."

As if on queue, the double doors creaked open, and a gaggle of girls, ranging in Houses and ages, burst into the hall. All were scowling; and all, Remus noted, seemed to be clutching letters. As a group, they approached the Ravenclaw table. Remus' eyes widened as he saw exactly whom they were approaching.

SLAP!

The noise rebounded throughout the hall, as one by one, the girls accosted Art Scamander, shrieking.

Professor Flitwick quickly hurried toward the gang, looking determined to diffuse the situation.

Peter and Remus leant forward toward Sirius, eyebrows raised.

"Padfoot, what did you do?"