Lily's fingers gripped tightly around her blanket as she pulled it over her head in an attempt to block out the intruding morning light. It was essentially a fruitless effort, but she wasn't ready to deal with the world outside of her bed.

Everything hurt. Her head was throbbing, her stomach was unsettled, and even her limbs seemed to ache.

She couldn't remember a thing from the night before, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. What she wanted was sleep.

As she laid with her eyes pinched shut tightly, she became aware of the fact that there was a hand on the small of her back. It was a light touch; gentle and meant to be comforting, but it caught her off guard.

Cautiously, she lowered the blanket from over her head. Her first thought was that her bed had moved locations in the room, as it was pressed against a wall without any posters. Her next thought was that this wasn't her bed at all.

A quick survey of the body next to hers proved that she was in the company of one James Potter, and thus very likely it was his bed in which the two resided. While there were certainly worse places she could be, she was highly uneasy about the fact that she could remember nothing of the evening after about 2:30 A.M.

Another moment of observation caused her to realize that the clothes she was wearing were not her own. She was draped in an over-sized Quidditch jersey, and... James's boxers?

A swearword escaped from her lips as she struggled to fit pieces about the night together, but it was such a blur that she couldn't form a cohesive train of thought.

Her expletive was enough to awaken James, and as he stirred, she made sure that she was still well covered by the blanket over her.

She wanted to die. Her cheeks were inflamed from embarrassment, yet she wasn't sure she could even stand to move her body because she was in so much pain.

"Morning, love," James whispered, gently rubbing her with the hand that sat on her back. "How're you feeling?"

"Dead," she said, pressing her face firmly into the pillow. "Everything hurts and... Merlin, James, what happened last night? Last I —"

"Take your face out from the pillow," he suggested, "so that I can actually understand what you're saying."

She obeyed him and rolled over, but she looked straight up and continued to avoid James's gaze.

Once her body had recovered from the spinning motion, she continued, "The last I remember, you weren't even there. How did I end up here?" She cleared her throat and then whispered, "How did I end up dressed like this?"

It wasn't that the idea of wearing James's clothes was off-putting to her - it happened often enough. It wasn't even that he may have been the one to put them on her. It was merely the fact that she couldn't remember, and because of that, the situation was surely mortifying.

James grinned at her, turning himself so that he, too, was looking at the ceiling. He found her hand beneath the blankets and laced his fingers through it. Then he started weaving the tale of how things had occurred the night before. James hadn't been there for the party, but Lily had overindulged. When he found her in the Common Room at nearly 4 A.M., she was quite disoriented, so he brought her up to bed. No big deal. No worries. She wasn't wearing her clothes because he hadn't wanted her sleeping in robes, and she was genuinely touched by the gesture.

"That's it?" she asked, frankly surprised by how controlled the tale seemed. "I didn't do or say anything else that was stupid?"

"Nothing stupid," he said reassuringly, though he did leave out the part where Lily had drunkenly told him that she loved him. That was everything but stupid to him.

"I did hear," James continued, "that you started taking shots because you missed me."

"That's just about the last thing I remember," she mused, shifting her position so that she was on top of James's torso. The motion left her head spinning, but once she stopped reeling, she pressed a firm kiss against the side of James's mouth.

James dropped her hand and instead reached for her chin so that he could redirect her mouth to his. The two carried on for a moment before Lily had to put a stop to things. "James," she said apologetically, "I'm afraid having your tongue crammed down my throat when I'm already feeling nauseous isn't helping me much." She pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry."

James chucked as he ran a hand through her heavily tangled red hair. "Lily, you know I'm normally the one suffering through the hangover. No need to apologize."

"Thanks," she whispered, settling her head into the crux of his arm.

"Speaking of hangovers," James replied, continuing to run his hand through Lily's hair, "we've got quite a lot to help with that." James raised his voice a bit to call, "Sirius!"

A minute later, Sirius had pulled aside the bed curtain and was standing over the pair grinning. He was dressed for the day, and light pooled into the bed from behind him, so it must have been quite late.

Sirius cleared his throat, and started with a cheeky, "Good afternoon, Evans. You're looking quite haggard today."

"What time is it?" she asked him, snuggling further into James in order to avoid Sirius's piercing gaze.

"It's a little after one," Sirius replied, "yet somehow you're the first up. I think Moony might be dead. It's a shame, really."

James stifled a laugh, but Lily was clearly unamused. "I can't believe I missed whatever led to this mess," James lamented.

"I can't believe I cut myself off so early," Sirius said, shaking his head in a mockery of despair. There was a beat of silence before Sirius looked back to Lily and said, "Anyway, love, I've got some brews to help you out. Pepperup Potion, Headache Solution, or Impendent Draught. I think you're probably too wrecked for the Pepperup to be much help, but one of the other two should be appropriate."

Lily looked to James for his opinion, as both of these solutions were unknown to her.

"Better get her the Impendent, Padfoot," James instructed. "And while you're at it, check the stock. We might need to get our hands on some more soon."

"You have a stock of hangover draughts?" Lily asked, amused but exasperated.

"Don't question it," Sirius recommended as he strolled from the bed and towards the wardrobe. "Just embrace it." He rifled through a rather impressive stock of potions before pulling out a vial of shimmery blue liquid and bringing it back over for Lily.

"I'd suggest chugging it," Sirius recommended, "it looks pretty, but it's rather unpleasant."

"Lovely," she said, propping herself up against James's chest and taking the vial from Sirius's hand. She tossed it back and nearly gagged on the unpleasant, bitter taste. She cringed as she passed the bottle back to Sirius.

"It'll kick in within the hour," James assured her.

"In the meantime," Sirius picked up, "I'll grab you some food. Any particular desires?"

"Sirius, you don't have to —"

"I'm on hangover duty, Evans. It's my job. I'll pencil you into the next rotation to make up for it."

"Alright then," she said, offering him a smile and collapsing back onto James's chest. "Something bland would be good, I think. Oatmeal, or —"

"You'll change your mind once that draught kicks in," Sirius said. "I'll bring you back the best known cures — oatmeal included."

Lily looked as though she was going to protest, but James spoke before she could interrupt, "You're in good hands, Lil. Relax."

"Relax," she repeated with a heavy sigh, "alright." She closed her eyes and simply allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of James's fingers running through her hair. It was a nice distraction from the way her stomach was churning and her head was pounding.

It was sometime later when Lily realized that her head was getting clearer and her stomach was settling. This change in feeling led to an overall change in her disposition; mainly meaning that she became a little less self-concerned, and a little more interested in the boy on whom she was reclined.

"James," she whispered into his ear, intentionally caressing it with her lip, "tell me about last night."

"I already did," he replied bemusedly. He turned his head so that his lips matched up with hers, and after a prolonged kiss he stated, "It really wasn't as bad as you're imagining it."

"I meant on your end of things," she said, moving away from his face so that she could look at him.

"Ah," James replied, shifting so that he was seated. Lily followed his movements, sitting up to gauge his expression. "It could have been worse."

"What did Dumbledore have you do?" she asked. Prior to his leaving, James had filled her in on the fact that he had been called away by the headmaster, but gave few more details than that.

"Perimeter patrol of the grounds," he said. "Nothing much to worry about. There are a few Aurors moving about here at night, but with the war going on, the grounds of the school have become a little bit less of a priority."

"So you, what, walked in a circle?"

"Precisely that," he replied. "I lurked about the grounds with my wand at the ready for hours until an actual Auror showed up to take my place."

"It's weird," Lily mused, a different kind of queasiness taking root in her stomach, "that we could be joining those patrols soon. You know, as official members of a guard and not just because Dumbledore has too much faith in the Headboy."

"Ah," James repeated his earlier sigh, "about that. See, it's not just the Headboy he's got too much faith in. Dumbledore asked me to speak with you and see if you'd be willing to pick up a few patrol shifts, too. It's pretty dull work, and you could put it on a résumé. Plus, I'd be by your side the whole time."

"Good," Lily said, searching for James's hand. "That's good. We make quite a team." She didn't say it this time, because she was sober and thinking more clearly than the night before, but she thought it. She thought about how she loved James Potter. How he was a constant in her life. How he kept her going on days when she didn't think she could make it out of bed. How she would fight a war by his side. How, despite the future's uncertainty, she was sure that she wanted to spend it by his side.

She was still nauseous. Not from alcohol or nerves, but from possibilities. Her head continued to throb, not from the hangover, but from the number of possibilities swirling about in her mind.

She wasn't aware of how out of sorts she must have looked until Sirius returned a minute later carrying copious amounts of food. He looked her over and let out a low whistle. "Maybe I was wrong about the Impendent Draught kicking in, Evans. You still look awful."

She found it interesting to know that thinking about a future with James Potter caused her to look just as ill as a hangover. She tried not to think about what that meant.