Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

On the walk home, Lily and Padfoot passed a small pet shop wedged rather snugly between Lily’s favourite bakery, The Bread Swan, and a newsagent. 

The place looked as though it had been squeezed into the gap decades ago and simply never left. Its front window was a cheerful sort of clutter: brightly coloured collars, rubber chew toys, and slightly dusty bags of kibble stacked in uneven towers. Someone had clearly tried to arrange them into a display once, but time had long since intervened and now it was organised chaos. 

Lily slowed down as she approached this shop. Ordinarily she walked straight past this shop without so much as a glance. Pet ownership had never really fit into her carefully balanced life of rent, groceries, and the occasional modest luxury that didn’t involve instant noodles.

But now she has a dog.

Sorta.

Padfoot padded along beside her with the relaxed confidence of a creature who had absolutely no concept of rent prices or budgeting spreadsheets. He also had no leash, no address, and (technically) no confirmed owner. At present, the closest thing he had to an owner was Lily.

Still, if one was wandering through the middle of the city with a large dog, there were certain expectations, for example, some form of a leash. She couldn’t very well keep him out of oncoming traffic if he decided to run for it. A leash was safer and practical at this point. 

Lily stopped outside the shop window and stared in at the display, already feeling her guilt for spending money on a non-necessity. She was on a very strict budget to maintain the delicate miracle that was living alone in her tiny flat while she attended uni in Levinstown. The numbers only worked if she behaved like a responsible adult and avoided spontaneous financial disasters.

A dog is a spontaneous financial disaster.

Padfoot, meanwhile, had discovered his reflection in the glass and was examining it with deep, serious interest. His large black nose wrinkled as he growled softly at the unfamiliar dog staring back. A moment later he barked at it then jumped and hurried behind Lily’s legs as if the creature might leap through the glass and attack him out of nowhere.

Lily folded her arms and stared at her own reflection a while longer. She lasted approximately two seconds before arriving at the extremely obvious conclusion that wandering through the city with a very large, very leash-less dog was perhaps not the most responsible decision she had ever made.

To be fair, the list of ‘Lily’s Questionable Life Decisions’ was not a short one. It included things like trusting public transport to get her anywhere on time, attempting to cook steak on her stove without supervision, and once cutting her own fringe with a pair of kitchen scissors in a moment of pure manic panic.

“A leash,” Lily muttered, “At the very least we need a leash.”

Padfoot looked up at her immediately, ears pricking forward.

“And food,” she added reluctantly, eyeing him. “You probably need to eat food.”

Was he hungry?

Wait, what was she thinking? Of course he was hungry because dogs were always hungry. But how much did a dog that size actually eat? He looked like he weighed roughly the same as two of the enormous kibble bags stacked in the window. Surely something that large required a staggering amount of food simply to function.

Did large dogs eat two bowls a day?

Three?

An entire roast chicken?

Padfoot wagged his tail when she looked at him again. In fact, he looked extremely healthy, like a dog who had spent years being fed generous table scraps. He also looked very pleased that Lily was still looking at him, his tail swinging back and forth at alarming speed.

“That tail might actually be a lethal weapon in my flat,” Lily said gently.

She rubbed her temple briefly, then pushed open the shop door. The bell above the door gave a bright little jingle that sounded faintly tired, as though it had been ringing for far too many years. The shop smelled faintly of dog biscuits, cedar shavings, and something suspiciously fish-like. The air was warm and slightly dusty, with animal hair tucked into corners and birds squawking noisily from cages somewhere deeper in the shop.

Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, crammed with toys in an overwhelming variety of shapes and colours. There were bones, ducks, carrots, hedgehogs, ropes, rubber rings, and (rather alarmingly) a squeaky dog toy shaped like a penis that appeared to be smiling in a way that made Lily mildly uncomfortable.

They’d skip that toy, then. 

A display of brightly coloured collars hung like festive bunting across one wall. Beneath them, however, sat a wicker basket of tennis balls placed temptingly on the floor.

Lily noticed it immediately, but she didn’t know if Padfoot noticed it within reach. She didn’t even yet know if he was the sort of dog who got into things, and he still didn’t have a lead. Her eyes darted along the display, searching quickly for one, but all she could see were collars in every colour imaginable.

No leads.

Padfoot, meanwhile, had begun investigating the floor with the solemn concentration of a detective examining a crime scene.

His nose lowered to the tiles and his tail lifted slightly, swaying with quiet purpose. He inhaled deeply, drawing in what must have been approximately twelve thousand different smells layered across the floor: old biscuits, new biscuits, old pee. New pee, damp dog paws, and God only knew what else. 

Padfoot took three slow steps forward. His nose swept the ground with professional dedication, drifting left, then right, pausing occasionally as though to catalogue particularly interesting clues. Lily watched him with wary attention, wondering if she ought to grab his collar again. 

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

The transformation was immediate and absolute. His head lifted slightly, then one ear pricked forward, finally, his entire body went completely still. Lily followed his line of sight, but in her heart she knew....

He’d spotted the tennis balls.

Padfoot had locked onto the wicker basket with laser precision. Lily felt the exact moment the disaster began but unfortunately, it was too late for her to grab the large black dog. Padfoot launched himself toward the basket in approximately three seconds flat.

His enthusiasm was extraordinary. His front paws landed squarely in the middle of the basket, and the basket tipped.

“Wait, no—!”

Too late. A moment later the unmistakable sound of approximately thirty tennis balls escaping at once erupted across the shop. Lily watched as they bounced across the floor and ricocheted under shelves. One shot across the tiles with alarming speed and vanished beneath a cage containing what looked like several very young kittens, who immediately scrambled backwards and began protesting loudly.

“Sorry!” Lily blurted instantly to the entire shop and she dropped into a crouch, lunging for the nearest ball as they continued scattering in every possible direction. “Sorry—sorry—he’s—this is—sorry—”

She grabbed one as another slipped straight through her fingers and rolled away. Bloody hell this was the most embarrassed she’d ever been. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole. 

Padfoot, meanwhile, had decided this was the single most exciting part of his entire day. He pranced happily among the bouncing balls, tail wagging furiously. Every time he pounced on one, it squirted out from under his paws and shot off somewhere else, launching yet another tennis ball across the shop.

“Dude, stop assisting,” Lily hissed through clenched teeth as she crawled halfway under a shelf and retrieved two more.

The shop owner—an older woman with a cloud of grey hair—came around the counter and began helping collect the runaway balls. A male customer stepped forward from around the other end of the shop and gently caught Padfoot by the collar before the dog could launch another enthusiastic game.

“Where is your dog’s leash?” the shop owner asked, sounding more exasperated than angry.

“He doesn’t have one, yet! I’m so sorry!” Lily repeated, scooping up two more balls. “I came in to buy one and some food, but then he saw the tennis balls and—well—I didn’t realise a dog could love tennis quite that much!”

The customer holding Padfoot chuckled at her hysterics. “Ah, my girl Rosie loves ’em too.”

Lily looked up.

A man stood there holding Padfoot’s collar with easy confidence, as though restraining enthusiastic dogs in pet shops was a completely ordinary part of his day. He wore a university rain jacket with the crest stitched neatly on the chest. His golden hair was combed back but had been flattened slightly by the weather, and his beard—just as gold—framed a strong jawline that suited his short but solidly built stature. 

“Thank you,” Lily said quickly, still a little breathless from chasing tennis balls across half the shop. “For helping.”

“Figured you had your hands full,” the man replied easily, nodding toward the uneven pile of tennis balls she’d managed to corral into the basket. Lily glanced at the pile and then at Padfoot, who wagged his tail proudly, the prat.

“Yes, well,” she admitted, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m rather in over my head at the moment. I’ve never had a dog before.”

“Never?” His eyes lit with open surprise. “And you decided to start with this behemoth Labrador?”

“Life is funny that way.”

“Seriously,” he added, as he gave Padfoot a thoughtful once-over, “he looks like he’s been on doggy steroids.”

“I found him in the park,” Lily said for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. “He doesn’t have an address on his tag or anything, and no leash at all.”

Padfoot, meanwhile, looked extremely pleased with how the outing was progressing. His tongue lolled happily out of the side of his mouth, and his tail wagged in broad, sweeping arcs that suggested this had been, overall, a tremendously successful adventure.

Lily gathered the remaining tennis balls and dropped them back into the basket while the shop owner nodded toward Padfoot.

“Get him a leash,” the shop owner said briskly, already turning back toward the counter. “I’ll ring up anything else you want for him.”

Lily straightened, brushing a bit of dust from her hands, and turned back toward the man who was still holding Padfoot’s collar with patient ease. Padfoot, entirely unbothered by the proceedings, leaned happily against the stranger’s leg as though they had been lifelong companions.

“Thank you again, erm—”

“Remus Lupin,” he said, offering his hand with a friendly, open grin. “But my mates call me Moony.”

Lily shifted her grip on Padfoot’s collar so he couldn’t immediately charge off after another tennis ball and shook Remus's hand with the other. “Moony’s an odd nickname.”

He chuckled, “I was working at NASA for a brief few months three years ago and they never let me forget that I let a three billion dollar robot die on the moon.”

“Ah,” she nodded, but wasn’t sure if he was being funny or not.

“And you’re Lily Evans, right?”

Lily blinked, her brows lifting in surprise. “How do you know me?”

Remus’s grin widened, and he gave her a soft salute. “I TA’d your physics course last term.”

“Oh,” Lily said, immediately laughing in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry you had to read through my essays, I hated physics.”

“Nah, they were fine,” he said easily, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve read worse, trust me.”

“Thanks,” she flushed, “appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Are you still in classes?” he asked next.

Lily nodded, still holding Padfoot firmly in place as the dog attempted to nose curiously toward a nearby shelf of chew toys, “Two more years to go, and then I’d like to teach English.”

Remus gave an approving nod and then he wandered a few steps toward a nearby shelf, scanning the boxes stacked there with quick familiarity. After a moment he pulled out a black lead from a white cardboard box, tugged the packaging open, and walked back over. Remus crouched slightly and clipped the lead neatly onto Padfoot’s collar with an easy click.

“There we go,” he said. “Not that I think it’ll do much—I think he could pull you across the store with ease.”

“I think he could pull a sled if he really wanted too.” Lily laughed. 

Padfoot immediately wagged harder, apparently thrilled by that assessment as Remus handed the looped end of the lead to Lily.

“I’m still over in the physics department,” he added casually. “I’m working on my PhD. You should come round sometime, I think you’d get along with a mate of mine really well.”

“Oh,” Lily said politely, feeling a faint flush creep into her cheeks as she took the lead.

“You can bring your new dog,” Remus added with a warm grin. "he has one that looks like this guy, big and burly." 

As she wrapped the lead around her wrist, she became very aware that the grey-haired shop owner was watching the entire exchange from behind the counter with a smile.

“I don’t even know if I’ll keep this dog, to be honest,” Lily said, glancing down at Padfoot as he stood beside her, panting happily. “I’m hoping his family claims him.”

“Well,” Remus said, shifting his weight as he began backing toward the door, “if you ever want a playdate with my husky, just swing by the department and let me know. I won’t force you to meet any of my mates. That’s probably for the best anyways. They’re rather annoying.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lily said with a small, polite smile.

“Later,” he added casually as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. “Hope you find his owner.”

Remus gave an easy little wave, and stepped out onto the street. The door bell chimed softly as it swung closed behind him, and a moment later he disappeared past the window, a small bag of dog treats swinging lightly from his hand.

Lily stood there for a second, still holding the lead, wondering vaguely if she was in over her head with this dog. Meanwhile, Padfoot looked up at her, perfectly pleased with life.

Right.

Determined to salvage what remained of the situation before anything else in the shop could collapse, Lily turned quickly toward the nearest shelf and grabbed a small bag of dog food. She squinted suspiciously at the price tag. It wasn’t too expensive, but she definitely couldn’t get her nails done this month. 

The woman behind the counter watched both Lily and Padfoot with clear amusement and appreciation for insane animals like Padfoot, and their unprepared owners. 

Which Lily was unprepared—drastically under prepared. 

“Well now,” she said, leaning slightly forward as Lily set the leash tag and the small bag of dog food on the counter. “He certainly looks pleased with himself.”

Padfoot wagged his tail proudly, as though he had personally engineered the entire afternoon.

“I imagine he’s very happy,” Lily said dryly. “He spent the last hour chasing squirrels in the park, and now he’s gone completely wild in your shop.”

Padfoot lifted his enormous head and gently placed it on the edge of the counter. His eyes locked onto the biscuit jar beside the register with deep, soulful devotion. The woman noticed immediately and chuckled.

“Oh,” she murmured, already reaching for the register. “I see what he’s after.”

She rang up the items with a few quick taps while Lily fished a coin from her pocket and retrieved a biscuit from the jar. Padfoot accepted it with great enthusiasm and inhaled it in approximately three seconds.

“That’s a retriever for ya darlin’,” the woman sighed, “absolute trashcans, the lot of ‘em.” 

“I don’t understand how people can just lose their dogs,” she said, shaking her head slightly as she watched him lick the last invisible crumbs from his lips. “Especially one as sweet as this boy.”

“Honestly, love, it happens more often than you’d think,” the clerk replied. “Friendly dogs wander off, owners panic, everyone runs about in circles for a few hours.”

“Yes, well,” Lily said firmly, still holding the lead looped around her wrist, “one bloke tried to claim him earlier, but he couldn’t prove Padfoot was his…I don’t even think Padfoot is his name.”

The clerk gave a thoughtful hum as she slid the receipt across the counter toward Lily. Then she bent down and rummaged through a drawer beneath the register.

“If you’re trying to find his people properly,” she said, pulling out a scrap of paper, “the animal shelter lets folks print missing posters for free. As long as you’re willing to keep the dog with you until someone claims him.”

“Which shelter?” Lily asked. “My friend Marley works at one, but I’ve never actually been.”

“There’s one just a few stops away.” The woman scribbled an address onto the paper in quick looping handwriting and pushed it across the counter. “Put a few flyers up around here once you print them,” she added. “You can stick one in my window. The folks next door will probably take one too.”

Lily picked up the paper and glanced down at Padfoot, who was now gazing up at her with cheerful devotion.

“See?” she said warmly, giving one of his ears a fond scratch. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find your family, buddy.”

The clerk watched the dog for a moment, then gave a knowing nod. “Someone will come looking for that handsome retriever, I’d wager,” the clerk said. “He’s a happy thing.”

“I think he must have some kids at home,” Lily agreed.

She gave Lily a small, amused look, “Yes, with such a silly name I wouldn’t be surprised."

Lily laughed. “Padfoot is an absurd name, isn’t it?”

“Well,” the woman said with a shrug, “you can change it if you end up keeping him.”

Lily glanced down at Padfoot. “Hm,” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose I’ll have to start thinking of names then…won’t I?”

The woman smiled and waved a hand toward the door. “See you again soon, love. And don’t worry about the tennis balls, it happens more often than you’d think...”

Lily laughed softly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She wrapped the new leash back around her wrist, and stepped back out onto the street. Padfoot trotted beside her with great pride, holding the loose part of the leash in his mouth as though the leash were some sort of medal he had just earned for outstanding dog behaviour. Lily couldn’t help glancing down at him every few seconds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and each time he looked back up at her with cheerful confidence.

Even if she never did find his family, she had the distinct feeling he would settle rather comfortably into her life. Provided, of course, he didn’t mind sharing a very small flat that came with absolutely no garden or balcony.

“Hopefully you’re potty trained, handsome.” 

The walk back to her building was only a few streets, but Padfoot treated it like a grand tour of the city. Every lamppost required inspection. Every patch of pavement held fascinating secrets. Twice, Lily had to gently tug the leash to keep him from following particularly interesting smells into alleyways.

By the time they reached her building, Padfoot had already jumped at three strangers and attempted to greet a passing cyclist. He seemed to know ‘sit’ but ‘stay’ wasn’t working at all. It’s like he’d never heard the word in his life. 

Lily pushed open the front door of the red brick building and guided him inside. 

The stairwell smelled faintly of dust, laundry detergent, and someone’s overenthusiastic attempt at some sort of floral air freshener. Padfoot sniffed everything with intense dedication as they climbed the two flights to her flat. He sneezed twice from dust going up his nose. 

“Right,” Lily murmured as she unlocked the door to her flat. “Welcome to your…temporary residence.”

She pushed the door open and Padfoot stepped inside with immediate curiosity. He took three steps into the tiny hallway, then froze. His eyes had locked onto something sitting neatly beside the door.

Lily looked down and saw her favourite slippers.

They were pink, they were fuzzy, and they had little floppy bunny ears. Padfoot moved with breathtaking speed that rivaled what he’d shown in the pet shop. Before Lily could even process what was happening, he scooped one slipper up in his mouth and bounded happily into the flat, like a large, rather dopey, horse.

“Padfoot—!”

He pranced around the living room like a champion returning from battle, pink fuzzy bunny slipper dangling triumphantly from his jaws.

“Padfoot, that is not a toy!”

He wagged harder and Lily lunged for him but Padfoot danced sideways.

She reached for the slipper a second time and Padfoot bolted for the sofa.

Within seconds the two of them were engaged in a thoroughly ridiculous game of keep-away around her tiny living room. Padfoot bounded gleefully across the rug while Lily chased him in ever more undignified circles.

“Give it back!”

Padfoot skidded around the circular coffee table, the bunny slipper flapping wildly from his mouth. Lily jumped at him and he swerved away again with suspicious athletic ability for such a large labrador.

“Padfoot!”

He paused just long enough to wag at her—cheeky little traitor—before sprinting into her bedroom. She followed, cornering him at last and spending the better part of fifteen minutes prying the poor, slobbery slipper from his jaws.

“Honestly, Padfoot,” she said, placing the rescued slipper safely atop her laundry basket, “perhaps your family let you go on purpose. Purely self-defence, considering the level of mischief you seem capable of.”

She sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Padfoot immediately hopped up beside her and flopped down with complete confidence, rolling onto his back to present his belly as though this were the most natural conclusion to the evening’s chaos.

Lily stared down at him and his tail thumped happily against the duvet.

“So they just let you get away with murder at your house, did they?” she murmured and he provided an even harder tail wag. “But honestly…you are ridiculously cute.”

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It took Lily two full days to get all the posters printed and put up. Between lectures, the shelter visit, and running around half the neighbourhood taping flyers to notice boards and café windows, the process turned into a small logistical operation.

In the meantime, Padfoot made himself entirely at home in Lily’s flat.

He was potty trained, mercifully, and did his business like a proper gentleman outside. Within hours he had claimed the rug, the sofa, and—rather outrageously—her bed with his black fur taking up residence everywhere he touched. By the second evening, Lily strongly suspected she had been adopted...not the other way around.

Mornings began with brisk walks through quiet, leaf-strewn streets where the air carried that sharp autumn bite that made everything feel newly awake. Padfoot trotted beside her with an air of great importance, nose working constantly as though every lamppost held a fascinating secret waiting to be uncovered.

And he sniffed everything.

Bushes.

Benches.

Bicycle tires.

You name it, he sniffed it like a drug-sniffing dog finding cocaine in suitcases at the airport. Lily half imagined he might be part bloodhound with the way he used that sniffer. That, and he was a fast walker. Half the time she had to jog to keep up with his pace. 

She hadn't jogged in over a year, not since a car ran into her at a crosswalk on campus, but he was working her back into an active jogger with little worry for her past injuries. She didn’t mind it, in theory, but in practise, she rather felt like she’d lost her knack for running without breaking a sweat. 

Thankfully, the evenings with Padfoot were slower.

They wandered through sleepy neighbourhoods beneath soft yellow streetlamps and pale clouds, the occasional gust of wind stirring piles of crisp leaves along the pavement. Sometimes Lily talked aloud to him about lectures, books she hadn’t started yet, or the absurd things people had said that day to her face in class.

Padfoot listened and never stopped wagging his tail.

In truth, Lily had always wanted a dog.

Previous flatmates had been firmly against the idea—complaints about fur, mess, responsibility, and “the smell,” as though dogs existed purely to inconvenience them personally. Now, living alone for the first time in her entire life thanks to winning a lump sum from the car accident, the companionship was unexpectedly lovely.

And Padfoot followed her everywhere.

He curled beside her while she read, resting his heavy head against her leg like a furry weighted blanket. He trailed behind her in the kitchen like a silent shadow, watching every movement with hopeful intensity in case food might appear. And during late-night telly binges he would wedge himself beneath her arm and sigh dramatically whenever she stopped scratching his ears. They often fell asleep together, even with the telly still on. 

In truth, by the third evening, it felt less like Padfoot was being fostered in her home and more like he had always lived there.

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On their third night together, Lily and Padfoot were sprawled across the couch sharing a dinner of leftover pizza and ice cream. Lily sat cross-legged with the pizza box balanced on her knees while Padfoot lay stretched beside her, his eyes tracking every bite with unwavering devotion. She passed him her crusts with a fond grin.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she murmured conspiratorially, scratching behind his ears. “I’ve had four pieces already.” 

Padfoot accepted the offering with the enthusiasm that told her he didn’t give a damn about how much she ate, as long as he got some as well. 

A small smear of melted vanilla ice cream had ended up on the coffee table, and he was industriously licking at it while Lily scrolled half-heartedly through her phone, occasionally glancing down to make sure he didn’t accidentally polish the wood along with the dessert.

Then the doorbell rang.

Lily sat up, totally confused. Padfoot’s head lifted immediately, ears pricking toward the door. He gave a low growl, and she was a little touched he was already protective of her. 

“That’s odd,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s Marley?”

She brushed crumbs from her jumper and stood, stepping carefully over the dog as she crossed the small living room. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Perhaps one of her friends had dropped by unannounced. Marlene had mentioned she'd be around sometime soon to meet Lily's new friend...and it was not like her to drop in unannounced. 

Lily reached the door and pulled it open where she was immediately greeted by a sheet of paper being thrust directly into her face.

“Hello again,” said a voice that sounded far too pleased with itself.

Lily jerked back in surprise because standing on her doorstep was the man from the park, but he looked rather different this time. Gone were the hoodie and rumpled student look. Tonight he wore a crisp button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled casually to his forearms, and dark slacks instead of jeans. His hair was still gloriously untidy, and his glasses still slightly crooked, but the overall effect was…annoyingly put together and handsome.

“What are you doing here?” Lily demanded, instinctively glancing over her shoulder to make sure Padfoot hadn’t wandered into view.

A mischievous smirk curved his mouth as he waved the paper in front of her like someone presenting irrefutable evidence in court. “Getting my dog,” he said, sounding faintly offended that this wasn’t obvious. “Would you just read the paper?”

Lily snatched it from his hand and scanned the document. Her eyes moved quickly across the official letterhead. It was a certified document from a breeder and addressed to Mr. James Fleamont Potter. James’s license was photo copied onto it as well, proving his name, birthday (they’re the same age!) and a photo match. 

The ownership registration for one black Labrador retriever.

Name: Padfoot.

Damn it.

She looked up at him very slowly, as she handed the parchment back guiltily. James stuffed the parchment into his satchel and then folded his arms with unmistakable satisfaction. He began leaning back slightly on his heels like a man who just had a bet tip in his favour.

“So…” he said, drawing the word out just enough to be annoying. “We agree? That’s my dog, and he’s mine?”

Her cheeks warmed a little despite her best efforts to remain dignified.

“Well,” she said carefully, “I cannot disagree that you own him.”

“Wow,” he said, clearly delighted. “She admits defeat.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with open amusement. “Marlene McKinnon gave me the impression you’d fight me for at least an hour to keep him for yourself.”

Lily blinked as embarrassment immediately gave way to confusion.

“What?” she said, stepping aside automatically and pulling the door open wider. “You mean, Mckitten?”

James didn’t hesitate once the door opened wider. He walked straight into the flat with the relaxed confidence of someone who had already won the battle and was now enjoying the victory lap. His eyes wandered casually around the entryway as he stepped inside, taking in the neat hallway and the little table by the wall where a few framed photographs sat.

He paused there because one photo in particular had caught his attention.

“McKinnon?” he corrected casually over his shoulder, a flicker of smugness appearing on his face. 

"Mckitten," Lily repeated, "is my nickname for her."

"Oh, erm...” He tapped the frame lightly with his knuckle. “Well she texted me.”

Lily frowned. “When?”

“Right after you texted her a photo of my dog last night,” James said easily. “She thought I might want your address to come and get him back since my mum threatened to castrate me if I didn’t find the girl who took him from me in the park.”

"Castrate you," Lily clucked her tongue, "bummer."

"I'd really like to keep my balls."

"You certainly must have good ones if you had the balls to face me again after offering to pay me to go to your place."

He winced, "okay, not my greatest moment. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." Lily blinked warily again. “You do realise that Marley’s one of my best friends? We used to hang out at the park all the time together.”

James turned back toward her with a surprised grin that made his whole face brighten. “No kidding?”

"I've known her since we were eight." Lily said, tucking her red hair behind her ear, suddenly very aware she wasn't looking cute in the slightest. 

He slipped his hands into his pockets and said casually, “I play football with her; on that new co-ed team that started this summer,” he added conversationally. “You heard about it?”

"Yes," Lily stared at him. “I have not seen you at a practise or match.”

“Likewise,” he replied smoothly. "We must keep missing each other."

"Shame," she said, before realising what she meant.

James's expression was like the sun, lighting up her home. He was clearly enjoying this far too much, because his grin hadn't left his face. His stupidly handsome face…with a jawline that could cut marble…she wondered how she had never once clocked him at the practises she attended before dinners with Marley. 

Then again, she was usually reading or studying at the practises and she'd only made one match so far. It was very possible they had kept missing each other, until the meeting in the park. Lily cleared her throat and gestured toward the living room, wanting to escape his intense gaze.

“So,” she said briskly. “Your dog...”

James shrugged softly, and as he shifted closer to follow her, Lily suddenly became aware of just how small the entryway to her flat actually was. It had never seemed particularly cramped before—just a narrow hallway with a little table for keys and photographs—but with him standing there it suddenly felt much smaller.

They were nearly shoulder to shoulder now. Close enough that if he leaned forward even slightly their noses might brush. Lily stepped aside quickly, pretending to fuss with the door behind him as though that had been her intention all along. He smelled like a soap she'd smelled once in her ex-boyfriend's shower. Some sort of spiced scented soap that must be popular, but somehow it smelled way better on James. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” she added, trying to sound casual, “but I may have…slightly spoiled him…”

“Somehow,” James gave a small snort, “I’m not surprised.”

He followed her into the living room and the moment he stepped through the doorway, his grin widened because Padfoot was sprawled across the sofa like a creature who had lived there for years. One paw rested squarely inside the empty pizza box while he enthusiastically licked grease from a discarded crust, his tongue working with impressive dedication. There was a long string of drool coming from his chops. 

When Padfoot noticed James standing in the doorway, he froze mid-lick. The crust dropped slowly from his mouth and his tail began wagging very slowly and very cautiously.

James turned his head slowly, one eyebrow arching higher and higher as his gaze drifted from the pizza box to the melting ice cream tub on the coffee table.

“Pizza,” His eyes slid back to her. “And ice cream?”

Lily immediately raised both hands in surrender. 

“I know, I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, but—”

“At least make sure it’s non-fat,” he said. “My mum will have a coronary if he gets chunky again.”

Lily stopped mid-apology. That was…not remotely the reaction she had been expecting.

She hissed at him, “Wait, you’re not mad I gave him pizza?”

James leaned one shoulder casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched his dog demolish the evidence with the tired fondness of someone who had long ago accepted that this animal had absolutely no shame.

“Oh, I’m furious,” he said solemnly. “He’s clearly abandoned me for a life of luxury.”

Lily immediately rushed forward to slam the pizza box shut, suddenly hyper-aware of the absolute state of her living room.

The sofa cushions were crooked and covered in mis-matched pillows. There were crumbs on the coffee table left over from yesterday, possibly later. A spoon was balanced precariously on the edge of the ice cream tub she'd been eating directly from. A blanket had been dragged halfway onto the floor sometime during what had clearly been an extended dog-and-television marathon.

Behind her, James said nothing.

Which, frankly, was worse.

And Lily could turned her head over to her shoulder just to see she was receiving a look from Padfoot's owner.

Not just ANY look either. 

Oh no, this bloke was absolutely, and unapologetically, checking Lily out.

She watched his gaze start at the top of her head, lingering just long enough to appreciate the disaster currently masquerading as her hair. Her red curls had been twisted into a loose, lopsided knot—the sort of hairstyle one only produced when fully committed to watching trash TV. Strands were escaping everywhere over her forehead, likely making her look a bit like she'd just rolled out of bed.

Then his eyes travelled lower to the enormous jumper she’d thrown on that morning without the faintest intention of seeing another human being. It was one of her old studio jumpers—soft, faded, and aggressively splattered with paint from approximately six different artistic phases and at least three emotional breakdowns. The sleeves were rolled up unevenly, and there was a suspicious streak of red across the pocket that she was fairly certain had once been leftover from a painting of the blood moon.

His gaze continued its very thorough inspection down to the worn joggers she’d pulled on without thinking. Joggers that, tragically, featured Nemo the fish from the Pixar movie printed boldly across the arse.

Underneath the clownfish, in cheerful cartoon lettering, were the words: I TOUCHED THE BUTT.

She immediately turned her head to look away from his examination. Lily had JUST remembered she was wearing these specific joggers. They'd been given to her on her 18th birthday as a joke from Marlene. She usually made sure to never wear them in a situation where another human got the option to see them. 

There was a pause, a long one, as he likely read the words spread across her arse, then James gave a quiet snort.

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, and he was grinning like a fool. Likely because his gaze had drifted lower still...to her bunny slippers. They were not hard to miss, after all. They were enormous, fluffy, offensively pink bunny slippers with little floppy ears that bounced slightly whenever she moved. The noses were where her toes met at a point, and they jingled with each step. 

Lily cleared her throat, turned back to face him head on, and straightened abruptly. She brushes imaginary crumbs from the coffee table with the desperate concentration of someone attempting to rewind the last thirty seconds of her life.

At least her arse was no longer giving James Potter a full, uninterrupted viewing experience. Because while Lily normally wore her ridiculous bunny slippers with the fearless confidence of a woman who lived alone and answered to absolutely no one, she was suddenly very aware that James Potter just got a personal experience into her very embarrassing life.

Her face was burning with a humiliating heat that made Lily suddenly wish she were literally anyone else. A mysterious, effortlessly cool woman in black sunglasses, perhaps.

A model.

A spy.

Florence Pugh. 

Anyone at all other than the English major currently standing in front of James Potter wearing paint-stained clothes, bunny slippers, and joggers with a butt joke printed directly across her cheeks for him to admire anytime she turned her back to him. She wanted the floor to swallow her up whole.

James’ mouth twitched as he looked at her and said, “So…” 

He looked like a man exerting tremendous effort not to say something deeply cheeky. Which, Lily suspected, meant something deeply cheeky was coming regardless. She’d only met him once before, but she’d gotten the distinct impression he liked having the last laugh. 

“So,” Lily said stiffly, attempting the strained composure of someone who absolutely had not just been caught looking like a hot goblin.

James tilted his head slightly as he studied her, his expression openly entertained. His eyes flicked down briefly to her slippers then back up again. Lily narrowed her eyes at him.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“Like what,” James replied mildly.

“Like right now,” Lily insisted, folding her arms.

Then he lifted his eyes back to her face and added with a lazy grin, “Mind turning around so I can find Nemo, again?”

Lily’s arms tightened across her chest as she said with a snort, "If you want to find Nemo so bad, I’d suggest you watch the movie."

“Ah, yes,” James agreed, nodding as if this were a serious point of discussion. Then his mouth curved into a wicked smile. “But you’ve somehow managed to make it so I can never watch that movie again without imagining your arse in those joggers.”

Lily stared at him, unsure if she had to be impressed with how easily he verbally sparred with her or embarrassed by how quick he was at shooting down her own cheek. She'd never met a man so willing to meet her, equally bullheaded, in the middle of her own home. 

James’ gaze dipped again, deliberately slow this time as he watched the ears on her bunny slippers bounce with her nervous foot tap.

“The slippers,” he added conversationally, “are an artistic choice.”

“Oh my god,” Lily groaned, throwing her hands up before collapsing miserably onto the edge of the coffee table. She scrubbed her face with both hands. “I knew you couldn’t leave it be. It’s no wonder you’re mates with Marlene!”

“Because I’m devilishly handsome and clever?” He quipped.

“Something like that,” she muttered into her hands. “I was thinking smartarse.”

"I can assure you," James said, "I was born a smartarse."

"Is this payback for helping your dog?"

“Stealing my dog? And no, it's simply that the slippers are...Well..they’re very, very cute,” James said, trying—and failing—to bite back his laughter. His front teeth snagged briefly on his lower lip as he fought the grin threatening to escape.

“They’re comfortable,” Lily shot back, dropping her hands and glaring properly at him.

He pushed with his shoulder, leaving the doorway behind. She watched as he fell next to Padfoot on her sofa, his hands roughhousing with the dog's head lovingly. His eyes never left hers though, lowering his voice just enough to make the moment feel conspiratorial.

“For the record,” he said quietly, “I’m not judging you, I like rabbits...and butts…while we’re talking on the subject.”

“You’re absolutely judging,” Lily said flatly, folding her arms tighter across her chest. 

“I’m observing,” James corrected lightly, as if the distinction were terribly important. He gestured vaguely toward her entire outfit, his mouth twitching with barely suppressed amusement. “You’re like a bloody wildlife documentary.”

That was when Lily had a sudden, deeply alarming thought. She quickly brushed at her cheek, wondering to herself, as James watched.

Had she somehow smeared pizza across her face?

Ice cream?

Hot sauce?

Something else entirely?

Because comparing someone to a wild animal in a David Attenborough film suggested there was something happening that she was not aware of.

“I missed the joke,” she said dryly, eyeing him suspiciously.

James waved a hand toward her as though unveiling a museum exhibit. “Observe,” he began in a low, theatrical voice, “the elusive art major—”

“English major,” Lily corrected immediately, frowning.

“Right,” James said easily, completely unbothered. 

“Observe the English major.” He gestured again, slowly taking her in. “In her cheeky joggers,” he continued, his eyes dropping briefly, “bunny slippers, paint-stained jumper…” He paused, looking her over again with shameless thoroughness before adding with a casual shrug, “…and a very cute smile, despite her frequent attempts to disguise it with a scowl so she doesn’t attract the attention of the handsome male footballer whose dog she just happened to steal.”

“I didn’t actually steal him, and you—” Lily began indignantly and then she stopped.

Her brain snagged on one particular word. James grinned even wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he watched her brain work. out what he'd said in real time. 

“Wait,” she said slowly, squinting at him. “Cute?”

“Marley was very quick to let me know you’re single after showing me several interesting photos of you." James smiled faintly, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. “I was wondering how committed that 'single' label is for you.”

“Don’t start,” Lily immediately pointed a warning finger at him. “This is just a custody exchange.”

James raised both hands in exaggerated innocence. “Custody exchange implies you want something out of this relationship.”

“Your dog,” Lily shot back, “I didn’t mean you, you arrogant prick.” 

“You absolutely did.” James shrugged, entirely unfazed. 

“You’re truly the most arrogant bloke I’ve met,” Lily informed him, trying to deflect.

“So I’ve been told,” James replied cheerfully as his gaze drifted over her again—slow, deliberate, and completely unapologetic. “But I can tell you like being checked out as much as I enjoyed watching you steal my dog in the park,” he added lightly. “So what does that make you? Vain? Egotistical? A pet thief?”

Lily tried very hard not to smile, but she failed.

“I’ll accept pet thief,” she reasoned, “if you can accept I am going to want to hang out with your dog again.”

His gaze drifted lazily around the flat—the living room, the pizza box on the coffee table, the tub of ice cream, and the extremely comfortable dog stretched across the sofa like he paid the rent. James gestured vaguely toward the scene, shaking his head gently, as if shocked very suddenly. 

“I leave him alone for a few days,” he said, sounding faintly in awe, “and suddenly my dog's got a flat, takeaway pizza, and a really hot English major willing to share her bed.”

Lily immediately pulled her knees up defensively, folding her arms over them as the table beneath her wobbled alarmingly. The movement caused the floppy bunny ears on her slippers to bounce dramatically. She stared at him over the barricade of her knees, wishing her face would stop going red like a tomato.

James, of course, noticed  what she was trying to hide, immediately. His eyes were bright behind his glasses, warm rings of gold catching the light as he watched her shy reaction. Lily was suddenly very aware that Marlene had sent this man on purpose. She'd thank her friend later, after she yelled at her a bit for not warning Lily of James Potter's arrival ahead of time.

“You are really cute,” he added, “in case that part didn’t come across strong enough.”

“Oh it was strong,” Lily sang gently. 

“Don’t like the compliments?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Words of affirmation are my love language, you know.”

"Mine are acts of service," she whispered softly, eyes tracing his jawline unabashedly. 

James nodded toward the dog lounging nearby, choosing to ignore her eyes tracing him carefully. “I can tell by how you treated Padfoot. You're very…kind. Thank you for keeping him, and letting me in even though I was a prat to you at the park."

"You're very...afirming..." her head rose a little. “And it really was no problem, I mean, Padfoot was lovely to have around.”

James nodded proudly, "I tell Padfoot every morning he’s the best, most good boy to ever live and he deserves all the bones in the world.”

“Before or after calling him ‘fleabag’?” She didn't realize she was being cheeky, until the words left her mouth.

James ran a hand through his hair as he laughed, the sound easily making her spine straighten. Now she was the one checking him out, debating if he'd noticed his white shirt had ridden up a bit as he slid deeper into her sofa. 

"I do have to say, I’ve missed his snores.” James said as he tucked his hands behind his head. "I've had to settle for my brother, Sirius's snores through the thin walls, and his snores aren't anywhere near as cute."

“He does snore loudly,” Lily said, dropping her knees from their curled position and gesturing toward the retriever. “I nearly had to wear earplugs last night, it was right aimed in my ear!”

James eyed her appreciatively. “Sorry about that,” he said with a grin. “You get used to it eventually. It becomes white noise.”

“I actually looked up whether dogs can have CPAP machines,” Lily said with a laugh, nudging Padfoot gently with the toe of one bunny slipper. “But apparently it just means he’s sleeping in a weird position...So I figured I’d just learn to love it. He gives the best snuggles.”

"I dunno if he'll come home with me," James admitted. "He seems to like it here a lot."

Lily smiled apologetically. "Maybe try luring him with the treats I bought him? I can grab them from my kitchen for you."

“You absolute traitor,” James murmured fondly to the dog, eyes not leaving Lily as he said, “Three days without me and you’ve gone and upgraded on me.”

Padfoot leaned happily into the scratches from his dad, his eyes sliding half-closed in bliss. Lily watched, her shoulders relaxing as James pressed kisses to Padfoot's snout. She could tell despite his anger with the dog three days ago, James clearly loved Padfoot. Padfoot licked James's face like he'd licked hers, over-enthusiastically. 

“You do realise,” he said as he wrestled Padfoot's tongue away from his mouth, “he’s going to expect pizza and ice cream every night now.”

“Well,” she said, lifting her chin slightly, “he’s been very helpful around the flat, so I wanted to pay him fair wages.”

James tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh really?”

“Yes,” Lily said with complete seriousness. “He supervises my happiness quite well.”

James nodded slowly, as if this were a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Ah,” he said thoughtfully. “Good emotional management is hard to come by these days.”

“Exactly.” Lily grinned at James, her knee knocking with his. "He came highly recommended by this handsome bloke in the park." 

James scratched Padfoot’s neck again, considering this new information.

"Handsome?" He questioned carefully, but his eyes were sparkling coyly behind his glasses.

Lily nodded solemnly, "Padfoot and I did discuss just how fit you must be to be able run the park circuit three times."

"Well," James considered, "I am quite fit, you both are astute in your observations."

"And I also talked to him," Lily added, "about spending some nights with me, in joint-custody with his dad."

“He’s clearly decided you’re the superior parent.” James sighed, looking down at the dog. “I’m going to have to win him back, if his adopted mother spoiled him this much in just three days."

Lily laughed before she could stop herself. "Oh you'll never earn that 'superior' title back, sorry."

"I'll just have to win you over," James determined, "that way you like me more than him."

"I can be convinced," Lily said coyly.

"Can you?" James smiled, leaning over so that their faces were now inches apart again. "Tell me how?"

She leaned in, red blossoming on her nose and cheeks again. "I like movies."

"Finding Nemo?" James joked.

She rolled her eyes, but leaned in closer to just get it over with and kiss him.

Before she could, the room suddenly blew up with black fur.

Padfoot (excited when James had started to reach up to take Lily's face in his hand) started jumping around them. He jumped back and forth on the sofa and on the table. The dog made it so that Lily, who'd been sitting on the coffee table table fell forward. James caught her in his arms, dragging her protectively into his lap as Padfoot bounded around them, his giant black body bouncing between the coffee table and the sofa where Lily and James were laughing, trying to protect themselves from flying paws and blunt tail strikes.

“I’m glad he has a home,” she said softly as Padfoot started zooming around the sitting room, taking a sock into his mouth as he did so.

James replied, “I actually do love him, you know, I swear I do."

"I believe you."

"Thank you."

The teasing had slipped from his voice for a moment and he sounded genuinely grateful. Their eyes met and Lily felt something odd flutter low in her stomach, a small, nervous warmth she absolutely refused to examine right then and there.

“I'm still pissed that he learned how to unlock the front bolt," James admitted, "you do realize he's going to get out again and come straight here?"

She couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I guess you'll just have to give me your number, in case he runs away again."

"I guess so," he grinned back, and then he shifted, grabbing something from his satchel. He showed his phone to her smartly, "I brought my phone this time, just in case you wanted more proof he’s my idiot dog."

Lily grabbed it from him and saw his front screen flash with a picture of James and two older people, his parents probably. Then she opened contacts and wrote her cell, and her address. She watched as James grabbed the phone back from her and put a clownfish emoji next to her name.

"Oh god," she complained, "you'll never let these joggers go."

"I am a big fan," he admitted as she stood up, purposefully keeping herself facing him. 

"Hm," she hummed, "well, I'd like to call Marlene and yell at her for a bit. As well as drown myself in my embarrassment that you've seen my bunny slippers and Nemo joggers before we've even had a first date." 

“I’ll plan something for next Friday?” He assumed, “If you’re free?”

“I’ll be free,” she smirked, “as long as you bring Padfoot.”

“He hates being a third wheel, but you have a deal.”

She walked James and the dog to the door, the cool air from the hallway slipping into the flat as it opened. Padfoot glanced between them, tail swishing thoughtfully, as though evaluating the romantic tension with great interest.

“Come on then, traitor.” Then James looked back at Lily, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Try not to miss him too much, or me, either.”

Lily leaned against the door, smiling at him in the darkness. “Goodnight for now, James.”

“Friday can’t come soon enough.” James grinned as she leaned down to kiss Padfoot's head. "Can I convince you to wear the joggers?"

"Not a chance," she shot him a glare through her lashes. 

"Well, I tried," he said, sighing like she put him out. "Guess I'll have to find Nemo again another day."

She snorted, but his quips were charming now...part of his personality. Lily had to admit, James Potter was winning her over quickly with his disarming smile. It also helped that he was really, really attractive. 

“Bye Padfoot,” she said lovingly to the black lab, “I'll see you soon, good boy."

When she straightened, her mouth was back to being slotted right next to James's cheek in the cramped hall. He lifted the hand not holding the leash to tuck her chin up. She felt butterflies explode in her stomach when he gave her a look that a guy hadn't given her in a long time. James leaned in slowly, placing a teensy peck of a kiss goodnight on her cheek. 

“Goodnight,” he breathed against her skin.

"Night," she whispered back, feeling lightheaded from his chaste kiss.

James winked at her next, re-gaining his wit and charm quickly.

"See you the second he breaks out and runs here to be with you," James laughed, "I give him six hours."

And together, James and Padfoot began walking away from her. Lily lingered in the doorway as James and Padfoot started down the stairs. The black dog trotted happily beside his owner, occasionally glancing back as though checking to make sure Lily was still there. Padfoot whined when she didn't follow and it broke her heart enough that she almost wished she were following them. 

The flat already felt noticeably quieter when Lily closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.

She was just pulling up Marlene’s contact, her thumb hovering over the screen as she considered the best way to yell at Marley for allowing Lily to both gain a date—but also embarrass herself in no less than fifty million ways. Instead, her thumb hovered over the last thing she'd sent Marley: a photo of her kissing Padfoot's massive head.

A new message appeared.

Unknown Number
(029) 3214 7856

 Padfoot already misses you.

- James Potter

(in case you've already forgotten) 

She wandered back toward the sofa, typing as she walked:

Lily Evans:

I knew it. You haven't even made it back to your flat!

He's going to run home to me the second you turn your back.

I love being the favourite parent.

The reply arrived almost immediately:

James Potter:

With great power comes great responsibility 

Lily Evans:

Okay, Spiderman 

James Potter:

Be prepared for me to call you desperate at 1am.

It won't be a regular booty call

You'll just need to get your booty outside to retrieve my retriever. 

He thought he was so clever, clearly.

But, still smiling, she typed out her response:

Lily Evans:

I'm going to buy Padfoot an AirTag. 

And get you a pair of joggers that say 'booty call'

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Reappeared.

James Potter:

You know if we end up dating through to Hallows Eve

I think you should dress as the boat.

I'll be Nemo.

Lily Evans:

I am never living down my joggers am I?

A moment later another message popped up.

James Potter:

Nope!

BTW

Football practises are Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6PM.

Padfoot loves to come watch his dad

And then I don't have to wait until Friday to see you again.  

I'll buy you pizza and beer after?

Lily typed back quickly:

Lily Evans:

Potter, Padfoot, and Pizza?

I'll be there.