I own nothing. J.K Rowling is the genius behind all these characters.
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Lily Evans and James Potter had never gotten along; that was a fact. At least, that's what the student population of Hogwarts thought. Little did they know, that that had been the truth, up until the middle of fifth year.
It was the day of the Marauder's famous prank on Snape; the day that Snape called Lily a Mudblood and broke her already fragile heart. Lily had run away from the scene, tears threatening to burst out of her emerald eyes at any moment. She found an abandoned alcove on the seventh floor, sat down in a crouched ball, and cried.
Lily cried for her old friend, for how he had lost his way. She cried for her fights with James Potter, who she really didn't hate, and for her strained relationship with her older sister Petunia. She cried for the pains of the war, for the people lost, and for the prejudice against muggles and muggle borns. Lily cried until she was numb, and the tears stopped flowing.
A scuffling sound from the hallway woke her up from her trance. Puffy eyed and red nosed, she stuck her head out of the alcove to check who was there. The hallway was empty, not even a ghost patrolling the place. She returned to her hiding spot, convinced that the sound had just been her mind playing tricks on her, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw what was waiting for her. It was James Potter, leaning slightly on the stonewall, his signature smirk for once absent from his face.
"I'm sorry." James said, and Lily knew that he meant it, that this time James knew that he had crossed a line.
"It's not your fault," she replied, trying to seem confident, but her cracked voice betrayed her. "You're not the reason I'm a muggle born. Not the reason I'm not worthy. A mudblood."
James hissed at the word, crouched down and looked into Lily's eyes. It was the first time that Lily truly realized how hazel James's eyes were, but now the gold specks in them were hardened with rage and pain.
"Never," James commanded, his voice so filled with fury that Lily suddenly became frightened. "Ever, call yourself that. You are more worthy that all those slimy slytherins and death eaters put together."
Lily had just nodded, tears starting to silently flow down her porcelain skin again. James, exasperated, knew not what to do except hug her, and hold her close. Lily relaxed into his firm hold, and slowly sobbed into his shoulder. From then on a silent bond, a truce even, formed between the two unlikely friends.
For the next year and a half they still fought, Lily was still bossy, and James still an arrogant prat, but it was all for show, and only they knew it. The two would meet up in the same alcove on the seventh floor every few nights, to talk. Talk for hours about anything and nothing. And slowly, very slowly, they became close friends.