"No one did," said James softly. It was difficult not to relate every scenario to Lily and Harry - every survivor was someone who wasn't them and every victim, effectively, was - but in his more objective moments he could appreciate that the number of people now dead who hadn't deserved to die was simply staggering.
When Diana pulled away he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand - they were very red, and his voice was very choked, but there were few actual tears; between hard work and constant misery he was too exhausted for a proper bout of blubbering, even when the circumstances so thoroughly warranted it.
At her next pronouncement, though, he hesitated a bit. He was profoundly relieved to know that Diana was still alive - it was far more than he knew about any of his other friends - but this didn't strike him as much of a reprieve. It wasn't even safer than being on the run, because the bastards knew where you were. Oh, they'd promised not to kill you - but who could trust a Death Eater? It was a big part of why he worried so much.
"... They got away," he said finally. "They didn't need to be spared, because they missed the purges. It came to the same thing. It just ... didn't last, I suppose. But nothing does, these days. Look - I've smudged you." He reached out to wipe a bit of dirt from Diana's cheek. Given how much she'd been weeping one smudge hardly mattered much one way or the other, but it was comforting to look at things he could fix, however small.