Lily Evans and Sirius

Lily Evans and Sirius Black

Lily Evans was never one to truly hate. At least until this year. She hated those damn death eaters. She hated Voldemort. She hated Severus Snape. She hated James Potter. And she bloody well hated Sirius bloody Black.

Which was why her first instinct as she saw him sitting alone in the common room at 2 in the morning (the night of Snape calling her a Mudblood) was to turn around and pretend he wasn't there.

But as she took in his slumped form, the way he seemed to curl into himself, the fact that he was shaking slightly, and the dark red fire flickering his face causing shadows to dance on the planes of his face and show off his dark and bruised under eyes, she couldn't help but take pity. So she squared her shoulders and walked over to him.

He looked up at her, and his grey eyes travelled across her face. Scanning her. He didn't say anything. Neither did she. She wordlessly just stared into the fire.

"Evans?" He croaked. She noted his voice was gravelly and raspy. Whether from sleep, lack thereof, or lack of use, she didn't know.

"Black." She responded. She tore her gaze away from the flickering fire and met his confused grey eyes. The clash of emerald with grey was enough for him to shake himself of the stupor he found himself in. She was actually here.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Sorry, I thought everyone could use the common room, Black." She sniped. He sighed.

"Sorry," He mumbled. She quirked an arched eyebrow.

"Would you mind repeating that?" She said, slightly teasing.

"I said I'm sorry. I was a berk today. It's our fault that..that he called you that." He whispered.

"No," She whispered. "It's not. Don't beat yourself up over it. He's been going down that path far longer than today."

"I'm still sorry." He murmured. "I know what it's like to lose people you love to that side."

She wanted him to elaborate. But she didn't want to press it. So, she didn't. She'd wait for him to tell her instead. That's it. But for some reason, she found she didn't want to leave.

So, she stayed. And she and Black didn't really talk much. Just stared into the fire. If only she knew that her presence truly made all the difference to the young Sirius Black.

September 12, 1975

The next time she found him in the common room was an unusually random night. It was a Friday. Normally the Marauders would be off somewhere pissing off Filch or McGonagall or doing some other sort of heinous prank they found amusing. But no.

Here he was again, sitting there. In front of the fire, looking like a broken puppy. He was wrapped in a grey colored blanket. A grey that actually matched his eyes. His hair that was normally always immaculate and silky seemed limp and lifeless. The dark bruises under his eyes were prominent against his pale skin.

So, she walked over to him and sat next to him once more.

"Is this going to be a habit, Evans?" He voiced after a few moments. His pink lips quirked up on the right corner slightly. She rolled her eyes, but found there was no true annoyance in the action.

"Only if you make it one, Black."

It was quiet once more. She didn't make a sound. Nor did he. Until, he changed his gaze to look at her.

"I know why I'm down here," He said. "But why are you?"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." She answered, her voice more tired and not the proper melodic ringing he normally hears from her.