Chapter Text
The first thing you need to know about Lily Evans is that her hair is very red. The second thing you need to know is that she is never without a guitar within five feet of her. Good, now that you’re able to spot her, the second thing you need to know is that she is hopelessly, inconsolably, irreversibly in love with her publicist, James Potter. So for the love of all, please point her in his direction and don’t let her chicken out on the approach.
Her bandmate and keyboardist, Marlene McKinnon, tells all: “It all started when they met at the Highland Festival. Our producer, McGonagall, recommended him.”
“Not to reduce Lily to a girl in love with a boy, mind,” adds Mary MacDonald, vocalist and violinist virtuoso.
“But let’s just say, her songs are… particularly inspired when it comes to him,” giggles Dorcas Meadowes, the drummer.
Indeed, around the middle of the O2 set, the audience might as well have been invisible for Lily’s trademark green eyes were riveted to the VIP box, where James was sat beside the band’s stylist, the dashingly devious, notoriously naughty Sirius Black of House of Black fame.
The song in question has not been previously released as part of the band’s debut album, My Magician (three guesses who inspired the title), so the official lyrics are unknown. Luckily, yours truly was in the pit to hear it all:
I'm terribly sorry to inconvenience you tonight
Standing on your doorstep, unwarranted just like
A lovelorn girl
In a torn-up world
(Your eyes go from bleary to wide awake)
(Your hands go from your sides to holding me in place)
(As even now I try to run from my own shame)
(But here I am and here you are and it's okay)
And I'm so terribly sorry to be asking this of you
But that thing we never speak of, I just want you
To know I know
That I hurt us both
(Your eyes go from cold to somewhere far away)
(Your hands go from your sides to holding me in place)
(Yes, even now I try to run from my shame)
(But here I am and here you are and it's okay)
I was terrible and I wasn't sorry for the longest time
But now I'm standing on your doorstep, hoping you might
Give a silly girl
Another chance in your world
(Your eyes go from dark brown to golden haze)
(Your hands go from your sides to holding me in place)
(Yet still I can't bare to look long on your face)
(But here I am and here you are and it's okay)
Now, you may be asking yourselves, what does this James think about it all?
He chuckles nervously when I ask. “Lily and I are just friends. [...] I’m very proud of the work I do with the band. I think they make great music and [...] are wonderful people.” (Replace all [...] with as many ‘uh’s and ‘um’s as you wish.)
Sirius is far more forthcoming: “They knew each other in school. Lily was the only scholarship kid at his fancy boarding school —”
“Which you also attended,” I remind him.
“— and she resented that,” Sirius continues flippantly, tossing his long dark locks over his lithe shoulders. “Resented him the most. Felt like he was mocking her, always offering sweets and loaning fountain pens and the like.”
“Was he?” I ask.
“No, at least, not at first. But when he got sick of her pranks, you can bet my boy gave as good as he got!”
Lily vehemently denies the pranks. “I never touched a hair on his head and by the looks of it, he doesn’t either! It’s a bloody bird’s nest!”
“I thought you liked the guy,” I say.
“I [...] don’t [...] I mean, James and I are just friends.” Lily’s face colors to match her hair. “The media like to give the girl a love interest like she’s nothing without love in her life. Well, I’m here with my band to make music.”
“So,” I try to be diplomatic. “The heart next to his name in your contact list —”
“You’re very nosy.”
I tell her I’m a reporter. (Who was hired by her publicist, whom she may or may not be in love with, to shadow them on their world tour.)
At this point, she excuses herself to her dress room.
So there you have it. Will Lily ever confront her burgeoning feelings for James? Will James ever see beyond their past and consider Lily more than a friend? Watch this space to find out.
Bonus Scene:
Remus took an empty glass from the catering table and held it between his ear and the door of Lily's dressing room, where she'd just been joined by none other than her muse, James.
"You know," a low, languid voice made him jump. "Some people consider it rude to eavesdrop."
In his peripheral vision, the reporter saw hot, glittery purple and long, jet-black hair, blow-dried to great volumes. "I require context to ask better questions, Black."
"You misunderstand me, Lupin," the stylist drawled. "No judgment here. I only wished to determine if you were one of those double-standard people who are okay with bending the rules as long as no one else does."
"Are you implying that you would like to join in?"
"I thought you'd never ask!" Sirius beamed and took a glass for his own use. He aligned his head beside Remus'.
Inside the dressing room, Lily and James had finally managed to get past the small talk to the heart of the matter.
"So…" James began. "That new song… Loved the violin."
"Mary really outdid herself, yes," said Lily.
No, scratch that, they were still in small talk territory.
"I thought having the chorus sung by what's traditionally backing vocals was inspired," James tried again.
"Marlene and Dorcas' idea. They have beautiful voices and it's about time we showcased them." Lily's tone bordered on clipped.
"And the lyrics were very touching." Having known James a long time, Remus could just picture him ruffling his already out-of-control hair.
"You…" Lily cleared her throat. "You thought so?"
"I did."
"Good. I mean, good music should do that. Not that I'm saying my lyrics are good, just that you said, I mean, that you… er, thank you… James."
"You're welcome, Lily."
"Oh my god, this is painful." Sirius rolled his shining silver eyes dramatically, wrinkling his artfully aristocratic nose in the process.
It wasn't so painful for Remus, who had quite a lovely view of the handsome stylist as they pressed their ears to the narrow door together. From every eyelash, to his flushed cheeks, to his collarbones, the man was probably perfect. And Remus tended to resort to constant alliteration when in the presence of probably perfect men. "Well, they won't be going anywhere interesting tonight. Would you care to come to the catering table for carrot cake with me?"
"'Course!" Sirius smirked.