Lily Evans loved running. Her trainers were tatty and worn,with rust coloured stains the perfect imprint of her feet in the soles. Running allowed her a sense of freedom, so she would run until she couldn’t bare it. The balls of her feet were throbbing now and she still felt the stitch prickling at her side. Mere metres to go and she’d make it. Rounding the corner she collided with another body, a soft thud and squash of wounded breath between them.
“Sorry,” she gasped, rocking back onto her heels.
“Nah, my bad. You alright?” James Potter raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. No doubt she looked a right state with sweat plastered hair and flushed ruby cheeks.
“Fine, thanks. What are you doing out at this hour?” It still felt strange talking so casually with him as her friend, her co-head.
“Jenkins and Moore called in sick for prefect duty. Food poisoning apparently,” He replied disbelievingly.
“Shagging in a broom closet somewhere more like. Do they forget we all eat the same food?” Lily scoffed back, Potter grinned.
“Why didn’t you just assign someone else? You heard Dumbledore we’re meant to stick in twos after...” She trailed off not wanting to voice the attack on Mary MacDonald aloud.
“Bit late notice. Remus is recovering from the full moon and I know everyone’s stressing about Slughorn’s essay,” He shrugged. Nonchalant at the risk he was putting himself under.
“Might as well finish off with you then,” Lily muttered, turning on her heel to walk beside him and trying not to release a wince as she did so.
“You limping, Evans?” He stopped in his tracks.
“A little,” she admitted honestly. While the glasses said otherwise, Potter wasn’t blind.
He looked down at her shoes. “You need a new pair of them.”
“They were a gift from my dad,” she answered, knowing that it would convey her attachment for trainers way past their prime. Potter shifted his gaze from her and extended it down the corridor.
“I haven’t seen anyone out of bed. For anyone down there snogging this is their lucky night. Come on, I'll walk you by the prefect's bathroom on my way back to the dorm.”
“I don’t need your protection, Potter.” She didn’t mean the defensive bite her voice portrayed.
“I know that, Evans. You’re the one who said we shouldn’t be roaming the corridors alone, remember? In my locker there’s a blue potion on the top shelf. Use that. It helps my quidditch aches.” He strolled off before she could utter a single word.
She found the bottle. Removing the stopper, she brought it to her nose. A familiar soft scent of sage and sea salt met her. It couldn’t hurt right?
Sliding into the soothing suds had her wishing she’d asked Potter to stay, wait, or come back for her. He deserved a proper thank you. The pain was already fading and something she couldn’t quite make out was tugging at her heart strings.
