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England (or somewhere on train tracks between England and Scotland)
For as long as Lily could remember, there had always been something viscerally sombre to her about travelling alone by train.
She couldn't tell whether it was the lull of the carriage making her drowsy or the addition of the countryside scenery that encompassed her with such a feeling of placidity.
Most times she found a helpful distraction either in observing and occasionally conversing with her fellow travellers or in reading whichever book she was trying to plough through.
Sadly today, after her routine passive-aggressive fight with Petunia, where Lily had taken care of the aggressive bit, she'd decided that her threshold for human interaction had broken with the vase she'd thrown against the wall. In result, she opted for a one-on-one with literature's bliss.
Just as she was about to turn the page and find out who leaked heroine's sex addiction to the press, a sturdy gentleman two seats behind her—the same one who earlier whacked her on the head with his bag without as much as an apology—raised his voice through the commotion of the station's announcements and passengers' movement.
"Oi, a thief!"
Startled she looked up only to see, that immersed in the world of glamour, scandals and unrealistic love confessions, she had missed the moment her train had pulled into the station.
Everyone else had their eager faces already pressed closely to the window.
Shrugging her own desire to catch a glimpse of the ruckus she reached with her hand for her bag to satisfy a different kind of hunger –the kind that only responds to the sweet taste of caramel and nougat surrounded by mouth-watering milk chocolate.
She realised quickly that her search will require the involvement of more than just one of her senses so flipping her book shut she turned to dive deep into her bag.
Imagine her surprise when in her line of vision appeared a pair of arms.
Arms sporting an impressive all-natural tan and a trail of slightly visible veins starting around owner's knuckles and disappearing under, rolled up to elbows, sleeves of his white, button-down shirt.
She had always had a weak spot for such nice arms. Of course, the fact that said arms were attached to equally fine shoulders didn't hinder her admiration one bit.
Breath exhaling, she pulled back, eyes travelling up his neck – lingering there only for a moment when his Adam's apple quickly bobbed up and down – until she finally met his eyes; bright, hazel, pupils slightly widened almost as if he wasn't expecting her to be there.
The way his black hair blew in the breeze made her want to sink her fingers into them to pull and tag, only so she could see if her sway over them would be stronger than that of nature.
"Oh," his low, soft voice made it sound more like a sigh than a word.
It could be just her vivid imagination, overfed by way too many romance stories, but she could have sworn that tips of his ears turned pink.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to...I-I was just...", clearing his throat, he let out a quick, nervous laugh. "My apologies, I was merely observing what you're doing."
She cocked her head at him, her eyebrow raised in silent question.
"Not in a creepy manner! Not like the blokes who watch girls memorizing as much about them as they can, so, later on, they could...use that.. for..their own," he trailed off miserably, adding in little more than a whisper, "nefarious purposes."
His eyes darted quickly from the window back to her. "Wow, I'm certainly making great first impressions, huh?"
"Well, I'll tell you this," she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice, letting her eyes dance with mischief. "You're going to get a mention in my group chat, for sure."
Groaning, he hid his head in his hands. "Brilliant."
A small, pitiful chuckle escaped her before she knew it. Upon hearing it his head shot up and he slung her a disarmingly charming smile.
"Sorry for creeping." He heaved a deep sigh. "A quirk of the trade, I suppose."
"Oh?" She turned to face him fully, adjusting the bag so she could put her knees on the seat. "And what trade that might be? Spy? Journalist?"
"Umm...sort of," he scratched the back of his head in a would-be timid manner if it wasn't for the growing grin on his face. "I'm a mammologist."
"You're right. That's almost the same," she replied dryly, but with a clear humour.
"Oi! Excuse you," he raised an accusatory finger at her. "I'll have you know that I also sometimes have to sneak into foreign terrain to gather information about my target."
"Your target, huh?" Lily bit down on her cheek to stop from laughing.
"Cervus elaphus scoticus,"
"What is that? A motto?"
"No," he laughed. The deep richness of the sound made her feel warm in places long forgotten. "That's my target."
She frowned, confused, as he continued to further explain.
"Scottish red deer. I work for BDS – British Deer Society. Yes," he added before even noticing her disbelieving look, "it's a real thing."
More shouts and screams came from the station and normally Lily would at least sneak a peek, or if she would have felt brave enough, perhaps even intervene–within her own abilities, of course, but for some reason, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the man in front of her.
"I'm a mammologist. Deer is my speciality, so to speak, and there have been reports of a couple being spotted in the Borders."
"So you go all this way to watch a stag and a doe hidden somewhere in the bushes?"
"Um... actually it's a...," he took a sigh, exasperated and slightly embarrassed about bringing this up to her. "A female of a red deer is called a hind, not a doe. Whereas female of Roe deer, Reeves’ muntjac deer or even Fallow deer is what you know as a doe. But then, in such case, the male of these species are named 'bucks' not stags."
"That's so..."
"Confusing, I know, but we biologist can be right nitpicky bastards when it comes to those things."
Like a dork, with the arm bent up, she put her hand to the forehead and saluted him, "Duly noted."
The silence that followed wasn't necessarily awkward, but Lily couldn't help the flash that crept up her neck and came full-bloomed on her face, as she watched the creases form on his cheeks from the grin he poorly tried to hide.
Of course, nothing in her life was ever simple and she couldn't even embarrass herself in front of a fit guy in peace. Their moment of flirtatious tranquillity was interrupted by a loud thump coming from the window on her left.
Nearly jumping out of her seat, she choked down a gasp and turned to follow the source of the sound.
A man had his face slammed painfully into the window, almost as if whoever slammed him was trying to push him through it. The face itself was rather handsome, in that cold, unattainable way she'd seen in nan's favourite old pictures. The face was marred by a long, thin vertical scar on his right cheek that stretched when he grinned at Lily; her heart turned over with an unpleasant manner at the wink he sent her way.
"Hey," James's call shook her out of the trance. "How does farmer count cows?"
"What?" she shook her head.
James repeated the question much slower accenting each word.
"I don't know. How?"
"With a cow-culator," he said with a grin.
A moment of silence burst out laughing. Snorting.
"Hi, I'm James, 28, Aries, deer enthusiast– except venison, God forbid I ever put that in my mouth – avid pun maker with a proclivity of embarrassing myself in the most unfortunate situations. And you?"
"Hello, James. I'm Lily, also 28, my friend Mary tells me I act like a typical first-decan Aquarius – whatever that means – they let me play with chemics for a living, and I think I just found a new appreciation for puns and corny jokes."
"That's great to hear. I'm doing a small theatrical performance in my local theatre about puns."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it will be a play on words."
-----
France (the nice part)
"You don't sound too happy," James he whispered against her ear, his fingers twining in her hair.
"I am. I AM," she assured, not certain if it was supposed to convince him or herself. "I'm just worried about her, you know," Lily sighed, as he intervened his fingers with hers and tugged her closer as they continued to roam the halls at a leisure pace. "I remember when I was babysitting Sophie just a few years ago and now she's going to her a baby on her own. At eighteen!"
She added in much lower voice when her exclamation turned some heads around, "They're both barely out of school. Last I spoke with her she didn't even know what she wanted to do with her life."
"Oh, don't worry about her love," he put his arm around her shoulders and brushed his lips lightly against her temple." I heard that after the birth of your first child, your role in life becomes apparent."
"That's not–..." she stopped abruptly to glare at him. "You didn't. Are you seriously making puns right now?"
He had the audacity to laugh at her. Narrowing her eyes and without a second of thought, she pinched his bum.
James jumped up in the air in surprise. "Ouch. Cheeky," his hand massaged his bum. "Behave yourself, you animal. This museum. This is The Museum. The Louvre," he said with a perfect accent. The posh bastard. "You can't touch the art."
Lily raised her eyebrow, "Your bum is the art?
"My bum is the bomb and you know it," he leaned in and spoke in a low voice.
Just as she opened her mouth to respond, almost as if on cue, the alarm rang off.
"You called it. They're going to dismantle your bum," she said with a wicked grin.
"Let's hope not. " His chuckles were quickly replaced by worry lines and he looped his arm around her waist. "Come on. It might not be a false alarm."
As they followed the crowd outside a man, heading into the opposite direction, bumped into her. During the brief contact, all she saw was his profile; there was something dark and rather cruel in his good look.
She was just about to tell him off, but James's voice draws her attention back to him.
"Holy cow..."
"What?" she asked concerned noticing his gobsmacked expression.
"That was the guy!" he whispered loudly staring after the retreating figure.
"What guy?"
"The bloke! The dude!!" he said through gritted teeth.
"Oh yeah the dude, of course, now it makes sense," she mocked him. "I don't know what you're on about."
James sighed running his hand through his hair. "The guy from the train. From when we've met."
"I don't remember any guy."
His mouth opened in shock. "How can you not recall every single detail about that day?."
"I remember that I thought you looked dead fit." Lily smiled at him sweetly.
Straightening up, clearly subbed down, he was fighting off the smile forming on his lips, "Well, I suppose as long as you remember the most important bits I can forgive you."
She took the opportunity and raised herself on her tiptoes and planted a quick, soft kiss on his cheek. Before she could fall back down on her feet, he grabbed her chin and guided her lips to his, securing his free arm around her waist.
They broke apart only when a security guard subtly clears her throat behind them, letting them know this wasn't a place or time for public displays of affection.
Once they were outside surrounded by the police and other tourists, James asked, "But seriously you don't remember him?"
"Honestly, I don't remember any gut that isn't you."
He narrowed his eyes at her, but the shine in them betrayed his pleasure. "Brownnoser."
"Totally. Is it working, though?"
"You bet."
He leaned in to let her know just how much.
-----
Montenegro (the one in Southeast Europe)
"Are you still sulking?"
"I'm not sulking."
She craned her neck to catch his eye but he stubbornly refused to make eye contact with her staring off at one of the casino's tables. "Obviously."
"I'm just hurt because someone I trust more than anyone in the world with the exception of Sirius, of course.."
"Of course."
"...refuses to believe and has called me crazy."
"I didn't call you crazy," Lily placed her hand on her chest, looking at him earnestly. "I said you're hysterical and have an overly vivid imagination."
At his raised eyebrow, she added quickly, "Fondly, of course."
"Of course," he gave her wry smile.
Then he turned his gaze back into the room.
"Will you stop staring at him? It is not the same guy," she hissed at him.
"It is the same guy. Look at him. Lily. Look at him." If she wasn't so tired of his little delusion she might have laughed at the seriousness in his voice and expression.
Deciding to indulge him, she followed his gaze to the man at the table. He was certainly good-looking, as any other man in this room, but there was something cold and ruthless in him, that even if Lily wasn't stupidly and madly in love with the man beside him, she wouldn't even think about approaching him.
" I don't see it." She turned to face him and raised her left hand. "Besides I'm pretty sure I'm morally obligated to not pay too much attention to other men since you've put that, " she waved her fingers smiling at the glint of the diamond, "on my finger."
"Oh that so sweet," he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Also such utter tosh."
Lily rolled her eyes snatching her hand from his grasp.
"I'm telling you that gut is some sort of a spy."
"Oh god," she muttered at her drink.
"And you know what else I'm thinking?"
"I'm too afraid to ask."
"I should sit by that table with him and play."
She coughed, nearly choking on her drink, her eyes bulged out a little. "You really should not. They're going to play poker. It's a big boys' game."
"I can play poker," he said, taken aback.
"You can't even play Uno. I didn't know it's possible to lose at Uno but you somehow manage."
"The rules are unclear."
"And the rules to poker are not?"
"I've seen 'Molly's game' several times. I know how to play."
A wave of relief washed over her as the last vacant spot at the table got taken.
"Oh, would you look at that. They're so no place for you left."
There was a genuine pout on his face. "But I wanted to play."
"I know you would, luv, I know." She ran her hand through his hair and let it slide lower down his neck, lower down his spine, lower... and she whispered softly a few words of comfort that she knew would provide enough of distraction from the loss of his entertainment.
James's breath quickened at the picture she had drawn him. "Well if you put it like that then poker really does sounds...unstimulating."
She smiled at him knowingly, "Elevator?"
"Too crowded."
"Let's take the stairs then."
Giddy with the prospect of the night ahead they left the room, trying to not make it too obvious why they were in such a rush.
James pulled Lily to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.
"On second thought maybe we should take the elevator. I don't trust the stairs...they're always up to something."
"When we will be at the top I will push you down. And I will enjoy it."
-----
A boat (that's really all you need to know)
For as long as she lived, or at least for as long as she knew James, she had never seen him run as has as he had had seven minutes into their cruise.
"I'm dying," his voice came muffled as he rested his head on the toilet after a good several minutes of wretching.
Lily sighed handling him a paper towel. "No, you're not. Don't be so dramatic."
"You're not being very supportive," his mumbled words barely hearable.
"I don't know what you want me to do. Hold your hair? I gave you the towel."
A hand on her lower back startled her and she let out a small gasp that she quickly squashed when she realised who is the owner.
"Is he still extracting himself?" Sirius peered over her shoulder at the slumped figure on the floor.
"Yeah," Lily nodded sadly. "I didn't know that someone can be alive for 35 years and not know that he suffers from seasickness, but I guess I should be used to his surprises after all these years."
"Speaking of handling his surprises. Doesn't all that smell bother you since...?" he pointed at her slightly protruded tummy.
There was nothing she could do about the smile forming on her lips as she rested her hand on her stomach. "It probably would if it was my first. Now I'm impervious to all kinds of smells."
Although if she was going, to be honest, the sounds coming from her husband were starting to make her a little nervous.
"But if you're offering to stay here with him, while I go on the deck to lounge around for a bit I'm not saying no."
Sirius, with the expertise he gained over the years, saw right through her feign-nonchalance and nodded towards the end of the hall.
"Go, but when you decide to come back please me bring two fingers of recompensation," he said, mimicking a drinking motion.
Lily was not about to wait around for him to change his mind, she wasted no time, and as swiftly as she could in her condition, she made her way down the corridor to the stairs leading up to the deck. Once she was up on the deck, glad to be out in the fresh air, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
It was truly a beautiful day. The sun already high in the sky provided a much-needed warmth; the view of the shoreline looked like something truly straight out of a postcard.
Deciding it was time to check on Harry, who should be watched over by either Mary or one of his grandparents, she turned left when her eye caught a familiar figure sitting alone at the bar.
James's father looked a lot like him, yet nothing like him at all. Similar in posture and manner, they also shared a Potter family trait – a shock of unruly black hair that only a secret cosmetic formula could tame, although he was undeniably more on silver side nowadays. However, Fleamont's skin was also a few shades lighter than his son's and his eyes' hue closer to coal than amber, but no one would question their relation to each other.
"How is my pride and joy doing downstairs?" he smiled warmly at her. She loved that about him: no matter how difficult thing could be or how angry he was, Fleamont never stopped being kind. A man after her own heart.
She took a seat beside him, "He doesn't hold anything back."
"That's my boy."
Signalling to the bartender–apparently, they'd picked a cruise ship where no one thinks twice about serving alcohol to pregnant women–she asked, "Where's your ball and chain?"
With a gentle smile on his face, he pointed his head in the direction of a small but rambunctious group of people, mostly seniors, but there were few youngsters and kids even. In the middle of the crowd sat a woman whose grace and beauty couldn't even waver time, on her lap was perched Lily's three-year-old gleefully soaking off the attention and noise around him.
Euphemia was clearly in the middle of some riveting story, judging by the ooh's and ahh's of her adoring public.
"What's she doing?"
"Oh," he laughed softly. "She's doing what she loves best: being the centre of everyone's attention. I'm pretty sure at the end of this they're either kick us off the ship or give us next sail for free."
Her fingers stilled at the glass drink she was holding as she gaped at him. "Why's that?"
Fleamont leaned in, darting a quick glance around to ensure they weren't listened to, and with an all-too-familiar glint in his eyes said, "She started the rumour about moaning that comes from downstairs–you know, James's moaning– is that of a ghost of a sailor's widow who hangs herself in despair."
Lily let out a laugh; it caught in her throat and she almost choked on her own saliva."Oh, James's going to love this."
"What is he moaning about there anyway?"
"Oh, the usual," she waved her hand around. "We're not sorry enough for him. I'm not holding his hair. Blah blah blah..."
"He should be used to his hair by now. I don't have that problem." He pointed at his head. "You see, me and my receding hairline goes way back."
Exasperated, she groaned. "Sometimes I forget there's two of you."
"Three! Don't forget my first grandchild."
"Luckily Harry doesn't have your proclivity for that sort of entertainment."
"Give it time."
Sighing she grabbed the drink and hoped off the bar stool. "I have to go relieve Sirius off his duty. Please monitor the situation."
And with a quick peck on his cheek, she was off the same way she came up.
Before she made it all the way down shouts reach her ears.
"No, no, no,nonono."
"Calm down you loon."
"I know what I saw!"
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" she looked at both of them expectingly.
"Your husband has hallucinations."
"Lily! Thank God. He was here."
"Who?" she shook her hand confused.
"He, him, the guy!" James gestured wildly towards the small window.
"He's off his rocker I'm telling you," Sirius muttered under his breath loud enough for only Renee to hear.
"The spy. The train. The museum." Her husband's hands waving around even more chaotically.
"Wasn't that a book?"
She ignored Sirius's question and sighed. "Oh god, not this again."
"I'm telling you, Lily," James looked at her pleadingly. "He jumped from the ship and now is speeding off on his speedboat. Look." Grabbing her hand, he dragged her towards the window.
He wasn't lying about the speedboat. There were several of them in fact, gliding through the water. It seemed like only one was coming from the direction of their ship and heading for the shore; at its helm was a man of slim build, he couldn't be more than 6 feet.
"I'm fairly certain there would be an alarm if anyone jumped from the ship."
"It was him," he insisted.
Lily raised her hands in defeat, "Alright. It was him. So what?"
"So what?" His effort to hold off the new wave of sickness was palpable, but his need to come up on top in a conversation won.
"Yeah, so what if it was him," she turned back to face him.
"Well then... I was right all along,' he said raising his chin high.
"Yes, you were. Congratulations."
His mouth almost formed a grin, but with a sway of a ship, it became apparent that his stomach had something else on the agenda.
"God, I love you so much, you idiot," Lily gently rubbed his shaking back/
"Gross."
She glared at Sirius. "Your services are no longer necessary. Thank you."
She slammed the door at his grinning face.
------
Pretoria, South Africa (that's all really)
"Mummy?" Livvy's sweet voice brought a smile to her face.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she smiled down at her daughter.
Her little urchin bounced up in her spot with her hands behind her back, "What do you call a magic dog?"
"A magic dog?" She pretended to ponder for a moment, tilting her head some more and pursing her lips. "Oh, my, I haven't the faintest. Merlin, perhaps?"
"Nooo." Her giggles warmed Lily's already swollen heart. " A Labracadabrador."
Laughing and shaking her head Lily placed a kiss on the little girl's forehead."That was a good one. Did daddy tell you that one?"
"Mhm," she nodded solemnly, her brown eyes full of innocence. "He promised to make me a book with the bestest of jokes."
"Oh joy," Lily he muttered under her breath.
Olivia scrunched her face with a frown and for a moment Lily feared that her daughter had heard her, but luckily her worries quickly scurried away when her little angel asked, "When will Harry be here?"
Lily sighed internally, relief washing over her. "Your dad went to pick him and ran form the hotel and then we will all go together."
Livvy perked up and with true delight shouted, "To the zoo!"
"To the zoo," Lily conceded.
"The zoo. The zoo! Zoo zoo zoozoozoo."
Lily grinned and almost joined her daughter in her little excitement-induced dance, but suddenly the unmistakable sound of screeching tires on asphalt reached her ears and she tensed with dread. Instinctively she grabbed Livvy close to her chest as a car came to a halt by their side of the road.
Two heads–one black like soot, the other fiery red–appeared as the car's door squealed open.
"Mum! Mum!"
"Mrs P, Mrs P! "
Two boys screamed over each other.
"We were driving so fast!"
"I'm pretty sure we were in a car chase!"
"What...?" Her mouth hung open and she wanted to ask them more, but that was the moment her husband chose to tumble out of the car, and their daughter scurried off towards him.
Harry mentioned offhandedly, "Oh, also I'm pretty sure dad is about to vomit."
Lily mouthed in James's direction 'are you ok?', but he only shook his head with fear in his eyes.
Unsure what else to do, she approached the car, reaching for her bag "I'm so sorry sir. Let me pay you for the..."
She froze. The face that was staring at her, was oddly familiar: blue-grey eyes, a cruel twist of the small lips, short black hair falling down over the right eyebrow and a faint, vertical scar on his right cheek. She knew that face.
"No trouble ma'am. I was perhaps driving a bit to fast. Have a nice day," the man said with a thick Scottish accent.
She could only say one thing to James who without a doubt was going to never shut up about it, "Don't say a word."