Friday morning found James resignedly hanging up the formal Quidditch try-outs announcement in the Gryffindor common room. Every year he insisted on try-outs for every position on the team, regardless of the existing team members from the prior year's team, and he loathed putting himself through the ordeal. But Quidditch was serious business, and the team had to be the best it could possibly be—especially this year, given that it was his last. Gryffindor had been on a two year winning streak (which James smugly attributed to his captaincy since fifth year), and he was quite agreeable to the idea of scoring a hat trick. Be that as it may, the afternoon would still prove to be the usual cacophony of the inevitable incompetent/ineligible majority, belligerent self-important pricks and the woefully small number of genuinely skilled players.

On his way to breakfast, James was accosted by the Head Girl calling his name. As he waited for Lily to catch up to him, he inwardly reflected that this was becoming quite a normal occurrence, as were the civil conversations that followed. He allowed himself a few seconds of satisfaction before his Remus-voice sternly told him to get a grip and not get away with himself. In any case, he liked said Head Girl's company too much to jeopardize their tenuous friendship, or at least cease-fire, by untoward propositions.

"Hullo, Evans," James said, grinning.

"Don't you look chipper this morning, Potter. Should I duck for cover? Please tell me you haven't rigged the Great Hall in any way...last Hallowe'en was bad enough…" Lily groused.

"Relax Evans, the Great Hall is safe this morning, but you have to admit that prank was incredible. You can't seriously tell me seeing the Slytherins turn pink and get rained on by green goop and baby snakes wasn't the slightest bit amusing."

"It's a lot less amusing when you're the one who gets stuck cleaning up the Great Hall after the ruckus that ensued."

"'Ensued?' Who uses words like that while talking, Evans? And anyway, you're a witch; it couldn't have taken more than a few Vanishing spells…"

"Potter, you may be a trump at Transfiguration and may have mastered Vanishing spells before Sixth Year, but I on the other hand had no idea how to do them."

"Transfiguration Trump. I like it. I think I might add it to my title as Head Marauder."

"Head Boy you mean."

"Eh, semantics. And to answer your question, Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon. Haven't been out to fly in ages."

"If you mean two days by 'ages.'"

"Like I said, semantics. So, are you going to come watch?"

"I'll pass, thanks," Lily replied wryly, quelling a suspicious urge to watch the tryouts—something she had never done in all her time at Hogwarts.

Later on that day, as Lily was making her way back to the Head Rooms, someone snatched her by the elbow and pulled her through a tapestry into a broom closet. She let out a squeak of surprise that threatened to grow into a scream when her kidnapper lit a torch and flooded the small area with light.

It was Sirius Black. Lily blinked, and then rubbing her elbow, she narrowed her eyes menacingly.

"Black! What on earth are you trying to do?" She squawked, and tried to push her way past him to the door. He stood firm. "Let me out, Black," Lily growled, now thoroughly rankled.

"Evans." Black said, and then stopped. He studied Lily for a few moments, making her fidget self-consciously, and then ran his hand through his hair. Lily was struck by the similarity to Potter's gesture, and looked at him curiously.

"Look, Evans, I need to talk to you about something. Hear me out," Black grounded out.

"I'm listening," Lily said, curiosity winning over her irritation.

"James's parents died this summer," Black said in a rush, raising his hand to wave away anything Lily might say in reply. "I know you don't care much for him, but you were way out of line on the train. Yes, yes, I know you didn't know, Remus told me, but you have to understand, James lost his parents. Both of them. I'm not much of a family person myself, but if my parents were anything like James's, I'd be as devastated as he is about their death. In fact, Mr. and Mrs. Potter…they meant more to me than my own parents ever did, they did more for me than my family did, probably loved me more than…but that's neither here nor there. The thing is, I know he's not okay. He's not exactly open about it, and he hates me or the others for noticing, but I doubt he's gotten a decent night's sleep since…since it happened. And he won't let us help him." Black wringed his hands with frustration before thrusting them deep in his pocket, and continued, more hesitantly than ever, "He's been avoiding us, in fact. Spends all his time locked up in that dratted room of his. Or with you, even though you've been nothing but a cold-hearted shrew."

Lily huffed in indignation, and before Black could stop her, she broke out into a mini-tirade, "How dare you Black! First you drag me through a tapestry into a broom closet, demanding to speak with me, and then when I give you the benefit of doubt, you insult me! I've heard enough, thank you." She pulled out her wand, slightly surprised that she hadn't thought of using it earlier, and stuck it threateningly in Black's face. "Out of my way, Black. And I'll have you know that I apologized to Potter for what I said on the train, and that I haven't spent every moment goading him about his parents' death. He even talked to me about them once, and if you ask me, he looks a lot happier than he did on the train. So bugger off, and quit moaning about how much you miss your best friend."

Leaving Black gaping behind her, undoubtedly mouthing soundless protests that that hadn't been the reason why he'd come to her, Lily strode off. Really, Black's concern for Potter was touching, and for a moment or two she had almost appreciated him as a human being, but being called a "cold-hearted shrew" tends to deaden one's sympathy for the name-caller.

Lily hadn't been watching where she was going, letting her feet lead the way, so when she took in her surroundings, she was astonished to see that she had ended up near the Quidditch pitch of all places. Oh well, she mused, it's nice out, might as well read in the sun for a while. The noise from the Quidditch pitch, however, made it hard to concentrate, and Lily gave up and went over to the stands—just to make sure things didn't get out of hand, she told herself.

Once on the stands, though, Lily couldn't help but watch interestedly first the Beaters (her hand pressed over her mouth to stop herself from screaming each time a Bludger got too close to a player), then the Seekers (most of whom seemed hopelessly inept, except for the notable exception of Clara Bell, who had been reserve seeker for last year's team), the Keepers (whose dives thoroughly impressed Lily, despite the hilarious antics of one player, who determinedly dived in the direction exactly opposite to the incoming Quaffle), and finally the Chasers, who were hands-down the most interesting players. Lily had to admit Potter did a fine job of handling the try-outs, despite a few grumblers leaving with antlers sprouting from their heads, but once he took to the air, he was impossible not to watch. He had a certain grace and agility about him that made weaving in and out through the air seem effortless. Lily couldn't help but feel a familiar feeling of envy rise in her again. He really did have everything anyone could possibly want…except, of course, his family. Looking at him, Lily wondered if he wouldn't give it all up just to have his parents back.

Bruised and sore all over, his voice almost completely gone, James trudged down to the Great Hall, considering the players he'd just chosen. Bell was fairly impressive, as was Burdock, the burly fifth year who had tried out as Keeper, and Sirius of course was as ruthless with his Beater's bat as ever, though whether he'd manage to work with Kramer was still in question…Spinnet he worked well with, but Gwenog Jones, the newest Chaser, was young and temperamental…still, she was the best of the lot…and with that last thought, he walked headlong into Lily and knocked her over.

"Potter!" Lily gasped, "You're crushing me!"

James hurriedly picked himself up off the ground, trying not to dwell too long on how he had been lying on top of Lily Evans, and gave Lily a hand.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going…" He said, shamefaced.

"Obviously not, Potter," Lily replied, brushing mud off of her robes.

"Here, let me help you," James muttered, casting a quick Tergeo to clean up her robes.

"Thanks," Lily said, looking surprisingly calm. James was still steeling himself for the reprimand that was surely coming his way.

When she didn't say anything for a minute or so, he asked, "So what were you doing out here?"

"Oh, I was reading under a tree until the noise from the Quidditch pitch made it impossible to concentrate…decided to drop by and watch the try-outs after all. It is my last year here, so I wouldn't have gotten another chance to see what all the fuss is about," Lily replied.

"And?" James asked.

"And what?"

"Is it worth the fuss?"

"I'll let you know after our first match, Potter," Lily said, smiling, "We better win."

"We will." James said, flashing his old cocky grin at her.

"Watch the head, Potter, I can see it swelling," Lily said, laughing in spite of herself, and James joined in.

Her laughter really was infectious, he thought to himself.

He wasn't so bad, Lily thought to herself.

And with that, the two of them walked into the Great Hall together.

Author's Note: Are they becoming too close too fast? I feel as if I've locked the two of them into their own private universe, to the exclusion of everyone else at Hogwarts...I'll try and get in interactions between some of the other characters in the next few chapters. Thanks for reading!