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“Could you look a little more excited to see your father, dear?”
James rolls his eyes at his mother’s admonishment. “I’m always excited to see Dad, you know this.” He replies as he laughs at the rude gif he’d received from Sirius in his texts.
“Seems like you would have put a little more effort into your attire today if you did. Like most young men would when they are meeting their parents at their father’s work so that they can have a nice lunch.” Euphemia says. Her heeled shoes click loudly against the tile floors as they walk through the hallway that leads to his father’s office. “You look like you’re on your way to play football.”
“That’s because I’m planning to go play football after we leave lunch.” James smirks as he sticks his hands into the pockets of his track pants.
“Sirius would have dressed up if he could make it today.” His mother replies pointedly. “Such a nice, well-dressed boy.”
James throws his head back in laughter, startling some of the researchers walking past them and causing others to scowl. “I’ll remember that next time you complain about his leather.”
“Oh, stop.” Euphemia swats at him playfully as she pauses outside of the doorway leading to her husband’s office. “You could have at least attempted to tame your hair.” She smooths over the front of his Cambridge hoodie before placing a hand on his face.
James instinctively leans into her hand as he grins down at her mischievously. “Why on earth would I do that? Women think the windswept look is dashing.”
“Roguish, more like.”
“Well, there’s benefits to that too.”
Euphemia makes a noise in the back of her throat as she closes her eyes, and James is sure that she’s tempted to swat at him again, with feeling this time. Instead, she takes a deep breath and turns into the office suite as James chuckles and walks in behind her.
His mother waves hello to the other researchers with offices in the suite and James nods to them politely as they reach the door bearing his father’s name. Though the door is open, his mother knocks lightly on the door frame to alert Fleamont to their presence.
“Oh, Euphemia! So good to see you.”
But it isn’t his father’s voice who greets them.
James, who had been glancing at his mobile again, snaps his head up to see a woman sitting across the desk from his father, and now standing to greet his mother like an old friend. Except they couldn’t be friends. James had met his mother’s friends and none of them looked to be around his age or fit. He’d have noticed.
As the two women chat away, James has to prevent himself from gawking. His eyes move from the woman to his father, who merely raises his eyebrow and smirks.
She is quite literally the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Long dark red hair, gorgeous green eyes that he was very nearly convinced he could get lost in. And though the white coat that marked the researchers in the office blocked most of the view, what he could see of the smart business dress underneath seemed to fit well in all the right places.
“Lily, I don’t believe you’ve met my son, James.” He hears his mother say, snapping him from his rapidly declining thoughts. “Ignore his attire, dear, he’s normally quite handsome.”
“No, I don’t think I have.” Lily says, extending a hand to him with a bright smile. James briefly wonders what it would be like to be the recipient of that smile for that rest of his life. “Lily Evans. Pleasure to meet you.”
“James Potter.” He says, shaking her hand. “And the pleasure is mine.” He should probably say something else, but something very strange is happening near his lungs. He’d never felt the need to remind himself how to breathe before, but whatever neural mechanism it is that keeps certain functions on autopilot—blinking, heart beats, and breathing—seems to be malfunctioning, and James has to recall the basics.
Blink a few times so you don’t look like a sociopath. Inhale, before you pass out. That’s it, deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“Lily came to us several months ago. Managed to steal her from Horace Slughorn.” Fleamont says proudly. There had always been a bit of a ‘healthy’—so his father says—professional rivalry between the two scientists, sparked by a uni intramural game gone wrong and a constant competition in classes for the top spot.
James can’t help but laugh at that. “There’s only so much of him one can take, so, can’t blame you there.”
“James!” His mother scolds, though he notices Lily and his father both doing a poor job of covering up their own laughter.
“Anyways, dear, you must join us for lunch.” Euphemia says to Lily. “We have reservations at the most adorable little restaurant not far from here.”
Suddenly Euphemia’s fretting over his clothing for the day, and her determination to meet at the research center instead of at the restaurant, begin to make much more sense. This isn’t a casual meal; this is a set up. Though, as his eyes flit back to the woman—Lily—he can’t bring himself to mind. In fact, he’s quite sure that he’s never been so happy to have been set up in his life.
“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.” Lily says as she looks from Euphemia to James and back. James is surprised at how deflated he feels at this, considering they just met. “Besides, I have a bit of work I really need to get done before I leave today. I was just asking Fleamont for some insight.”
“Not that she needed much.” His father says as he stands and trades his white research coat for the heavier outdoor coat hanging on the coat rack in the corner of his office. “She’s absolutely brilliant.”
Lily blushes slightly under Fleamont’s praise but is spared a response by a determined Euphemia.
“Well, if you can’t today, you must join us next time. I won’t take no for an answer.” Euphemia gives Lily a smile and taps the air between them for emphasis before reaching out a hand to her.
Lily takes Euphemia’s hand in hers. “I’ll do my best.” She says, though to James, it lacks conviction. Lily walks with them to the entrance of the office chatting pleasantly before telling them goodbye and wishing them a happy lunch. “It was a pleasure meeting you, James.” And as they lock eyes once more, James feels his breath catch.
“I told you earlier,” he says, just barely stopping his head from ducking down in an unusual fit of bashfulness. “The pleasure is all mine.”
James spends most of lunch thinking about Lily and calculating how often he could manage to use the old ‘just in the neighborhood’ excuse before it starts getting suspicious. He wonders how long it would take to find her on Instagram, though it is probably too soon to add her if he does. James is already frustrated at how flustered he was when they met, he doesn’t want to come off as a creep too—
“What do you think, James?” he hears Euphemia ask.
“Hmm? Sorry, zoned out for a moment.”
Euphemia’s face is measured as she sips her water. “I was asking for your thoughts on my new plans for the garden.”
“She was asking about Lily.” Fleamont says dryly behind his coffee cup.
“Yes, because my plans are for him to take her for a stroll through the garden. Did you zone out as well, dear?”
Fleamont attempts to level a firm look at her over his glasses but doesn’t manage to stop the quirk of his lips. Euphemia winks at him as she hides her smile behind her teacup.
James rolls his eyes at the exchange. “Why would I take her for a walk through the garden?”
“Because she’s beautiful, smart as a whip, and perfect for you.” Euphemia replies before her eyes drift upward in thought. She tilts her head from side-to-side, weighing her options on an invisible set of scales. “I suppose dinner would be nice first though. Would you like me to—”
“Mum,” James interjects. “You barely know this woman.”
“No, you barely know this woman. I’ve had several lovely chats with her over the last few months.”
James wants to ask why she didn’t tell him about Lily sooner, then, but he knows that his best course of action is to prevent his mother from thinking he appreciates her meddling. Even though today, he really, really does. “Is she even single? Looking? She may be dating someone.” James says it to deter his mother’s meddling, but his stomach lurches uncomfortably at the thought.
Euphemia’s smile falters and her eyes anxiously pan over to Fleamont who is dexterously trying to avoid her gaze.
“I won’t be getting involved.” He says as he gestures to the waiter for the check. Euphemia tries several times to move into his line of sight, but Fleamont keeps moving his head to look elsewhere. The odd cadence of their movements makes them to look like two strange birds picking at worms. Or their son’s love life. Either one.
“But Monty,” Euphemia pouts. “Don’t you want James to meet a nice woman and settle down? Give us some grandchildren?”
“I can’t get involved with my employees’ love lives, Euphemia.” Fleamont’s tone seems so dry and routine that it sounds like Fleamont has this conversation regularly. And as James looks at his mother, he realizes that probably is the case.
Euphemia huffs in frustration, but Fleamont won’t be persuaded. Finally, she puts up her hands in surrender. “Fine. I can accept that certain…boundaries need to be respected.” She smiles politely at the approaching waiter as he drops the check off at the table and then proudly at James as he passes the waiter his credit card before Fleamont has the chance to pull out his billfold.
And then she says something under her breath that James doesn’t quite catch but sounds a lot like “I’ll do it myself.” He narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, but she just pats him lightly on the face before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I know meddling when I see it.” He tells her with a wry look on his face as she kisses his forehead twice more in quick succession.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.”
For all his posturing in front of his parents about Lily, by the time he gets to his flat later that evening, he is dying to find out all he can about her. What does she for fun? What keeps her awake at night? Does she like strolls through a bloke’s meddling mother’s newly renovated gardens?
Get a grip, Potter. He thinks to himself. But as the days go on, he finds that he can’t seem to regain his footing. How can he when the mere image of her sends his breathing patterns into a tailspin?
After a week of carrying Lily around in the forefront of his thoughts, James decides to bite the bullet and begins carving out more time in his schedule to meet his father for lunch, just to get a glimpse of her. These little encounters soon became the highlight of James’ day, and sporadic lunches turn into once-a-week visits, sometimes with Euphemia, and on occasion, Sirius, who James is convinced only attends to see James flounder around Lily. And he does flounder.
James always makes it a point to pop his head in to say hello, and they make small talk about a show she was watching or the Puddlemere tickets he’d managed to get. Though he listens intently to her replies, hoping to glean as much information about her as possible, he can’t stop his mind from wandering to the ‘what if’s’. Like what if maybe that dazzling smile that seemed to light up the room wasn’t just pure politeness and civility, but something she reserved for him? But whenever he gets close to asking her if she’d be interested in going to lunch with him for a change, he never seems to have enough air in lungs to fuel enough words for the task. Instead, he settles for small talk before walking back to his father’s office with his tail between his legs, only to repeat the cycle the next week
To his credit, Fleamont only laughs lightly in the aftermath of these exchanges, clapping James lightly on the shoulder and saying, “better luck next time, son” before recommending a place for yet another father-son lunch.
Sirius isn’t nearly as supportive.
“You’re embarrassing.” He says on more than one occasion. “Get on with it or shut up about it.”
Easy for him to say, the bastard.
James does neither, and as the weeks turned into months, his visits remain the same cordial encounters, followed by the same pitying looks from his father, impatient ones from his mother, and the same frustrated scowls from Sirius. But something does change:
Lily.
Eventually James notices that Lily is either out for lunch herself during his visits or doesn’t have enough time to spare him much more than a wave. He tries not to take this personally. She is at work, after all. But he fears that someone has beat him to the chase. That someone else mustered up the courage to ask her on a date and the lucky sod is now sweeping her off her feet one lunch date at a time. The thought of it feels like a fist wrapped around his windpipe.
James makes the mistake of admitting his fears to Sirius and his parents over dinner one evening, prompting Sirius to mutter “for fuck’s sake” under his breath as Euphemia, in clear distress, clutches a hand to her pearl necklace.
“Well, that can’t be true.” Euphemia sends her husband a panicked look across the table. “Fleamont?”
His father hesitates, raising his eyebrows as he slowly dabs at his mouth with his napkin. “Well, it could be true. I haven’t heard her mention anyone, but she has been leaving the office for lunch more often.”
Euphemia opens her mouth to speak, but Fleamont shakes his head. “I already know where this is going.” He says. “I will not be asking her about her dating life.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been annoying me about this girl for months, and now you’re going to be annoying for another several months because you didn’t have the bollocks to—”
“Sirius.” Euphemia scolds lightly.
“Pardon me, Mum. You didn’t have the courage”—James rolls his eyes as his mother nods her approval at Sirius’ more courteous choice of words— “to ask her to lunch? I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“Sirius does have a point, dear, this is very unlike you.” Euphemia says before taking a sip of her cocktail. “You wasted no time at all in courting Miranda.”
Sirius snorts. “And what a fiasco that was.”
“Are you two quite done?” James asks with an indignant huff. “I’m trying, okay? When I get around her I just…she’s smart, funny—I mean, have you seen her? I don’t know how Dad manages to concentrate with her around the office.”
Fleamont laughs good naturedly at this. “Have you seen your mother, son?” James watches as his parents make bedroom eyes at each other from across the dinner table and feels his appetite begin to wane.
“That’s enough from you two.” James says as he and Sirius share a grimace.
Euphemia ignores his clear discomfort as she throws one more playful smirk at Fleamont and turns to James. “Lucky for you, dear, I have something should help you find out one way or another.” She places her fork and knife on her plate gracefully. “My fundraising dinner is in three weeks, and the invitations will be ready tomorrow. You will take the invitations for your father’s coworkers and deliver Lily’s by hand.”
“But what if she’s not there when I go?”
“Then your father will convince her to come, and you will simply have to make your move at the dinner.”
“And what if she doesn’t want to come? Even if Dad asks?”
“Then your father can’t come home.”
Fleamont nearly chokes on his tea.
James doesn’t know if he is unlucky or spared from disaster when he arrives at his father’s work the next day with a stack of invitations and finds Lily’s office empty. Fleamont sighs heavily when James walks into his office with disappointment written across his face. “Your mother has roped me into this, so I’ll see what I can do to get her there. You’re on your own after this.”
On his own. That’s the problem. He was left to his own devices with the woman of his dreams and couldn’t even manage to ask her to lunch. Now she may be in love with someone else, and he will have to prepare for a life alone. Because who could possibly measure up now that he’s seen her? Tapped into her brainwaves? Breathed her air?
“Give. It. A. Rest.” Sirius growls when James mentions this before walking into the dinner three weeks later. A server walks by with a tray of champagne and Sirius grabs two, quickly downing half of one and passing the other to James. “Drink it so you can loosen up.”
James stares at the glass in his hand for a moment before swallowing the drink in one go.
The tent Euphemia commissioned for the dinner sits on the far end of the Potter estate, with a full view of her newly completed and expertly designed gardens. While James normally only attends these events when forced, he has to say his mother has done an amazing job. The tent is decorated with layered white silks and houses enough flowers to scent the air around them. The large chandelier—it still baffles James that chandeliers can be placed in tents at all—reflects beams of light off the drink glasses, jewelry, and centerpieces in the tent. Visually, it was as pleasing as his mother’s events always were. But then a prism of light lands in a space across the room and somehow siphons the air straight from his lungs.
The light doesn’t reflect off her; it bathes her in a glow that makes him wonder if he’s died and she’s come to usher him into heaven. And if it isn’t heaven, the thoughts he’s having of her in this green, floor-length number, with her hair falling in waves over her shoulders and down her back, are surely sinful enough to send him to hell.
Hell seems like a better alternative to discovering that she’s been spending her lunch breaks cozied up with another man. But James doesn’t allow himself to stray too far down that path. Tonight may be his last chance to win her over, if he has any chances left at all. He doesn’t need to panic; he needs to plan and execute. He’ll ask how she’s been, tell her she looks lovely, and ask if she’d like to sit next to him during the meal. And then, the adrenaline that, thankfully—finally—has begun to kick in will hopefully carry him the rest of the way.
He’s excited now, as he walks, sidestepping the wait staff and friends of his parents, when suddenly he sees her embrace one of the guests, a man around his age and dressed in a light grey suit.
Ridiculous. James thinks unreasonably.
Whoever the man is, he seems to speak with her almost effortlessly. Certainly, more effortlessly than James has ever accomplished. What’s worse, Lily seems equally at ease around the man, laughing freely, taking the glass of champagne the man offers her, looking positively delighted to see him.
James can’t help but realize that she looks happier in this exchange than she’s looked in her exchanges with James in months.
He doesn’t know who this man is, but James suddenly feels the absurd urge to challenge him to a duel.
At dawn.
Before he can find Sirius and ask him to be his second, he feels someone place a hand on his arm.
“James! How good to see you!”
James just barely refrains from rolling his eyes when he sees who the hand belongs to. “Bertha, how are you?” he asks in a tone that is more polite than he feels. His father’s office manager has a tendency of coming on too strong. He’s side-stepped her on his way to make small talk with Lily on more than one occasion.
“Fancy seeing you here.” She says as she flutters her eye lashes at him.
“Well, it is my mother’s event.”
Bertha laughs as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard, and steps in closer to him. “You’re such a character, James.”
James spends the next ten minutes trying to politely put distance between himself and Bertha, who keeps stepping closer, running a hand over his arm and at one particularly bold point, the lapel of his suit jacket. He doesn’t know which is worse. Bertha not picking up on his cues that he isn’t interested and is trying to cut the conversation short, the fact that Lily is still talking to the anonymous man, or the fact that as he is thinking this through, Lily looks up and makes eye contact with him from across the room.
And she doesn’t look happy to see him at all.
The look on her face causes his lungs to putter out and he nearly chokes. Her smile is as stiff as the polite nod she sends his way. James returns it, but he’s thoroughly taken aback. While he was prepared for the reality that she may not be interested, he hadn’t imagined that she may dislike him entirely.
James feels his heart sink to his shoes, bile filling his stomach to the point that he barely registers Bertha leaning her face onto his shoulder as she whispers some office gossip he wasn’t interested in hearing in the slightest.
“You look like you could use some rescuing.” A voice says to his left. James’ head snaps up and he sighs in relief. He has never been so happy to see Sirius Black.
Bertha, on the other hand, lets out a high-pitched laugh that draws the attention of several people around them. James sends her a confused look before exchanging a questioning glance with Sirius, who lets out a noise of disgust.
“Is that the first time you’ve laughed all day?” Sirius scoffs before pulling James out of her hands and to a corner of the tent several meters away.
“Sirius, mate, you’re the best—”
“What is wrong with you? I thought this was your chance to figure out things with Evans? Why on earth were you over there with Bertha?”
“I was trying to shake her off, but she wasn’t catching the hint!”
“Wasn’t catching the hint—Bertha Jorkins couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag, of course she wasn’t catching the hint.” Sirius closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before giving a long-suffering sigh. “Look, Evans just walked outside of the tent, and she looks upset. Go after her.”
James grows concerned as he wonders what could have happened while he was forced to take his eyes from her. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, James, just go after her before someone else does.” Sirius says in exasperation. The idea of Mr. Grey Suit comforting Lily causes him to spring into action, and he races toward the entrance of the tent, skidding to a stop as he reaches the outside.
He sees her staring wistfully out toward the garden, arms wrapped around herself even though the weather has finally begun to warm up. James is able to get a better look at her now, in the quiet evening outside of the tent. He recognizes that he doesn’t know her well, but he knows when something is wrong.
“Lily? Are you okay?”
She tenses at his voice, clearly not expecting him to be standing a few paces behind her in the quiet evening outside the tent. “I’m fine.” She replies, slowly turning to face him with a small smile. “I just needed some air.”
James can tell it is a lie, the first part, at least. It’s written all over her face. But the tent truly had felt stifling, almost as if it was shrinking and he was the only one who noticed. He wonders now if maybe Lily had noticed it too.
“I could use some air too, actually.” James loosens his bowtie and lets the ends of it hang around the sides of his neck as he rolls his head around one way and then the other, satisfied when he feels a small pop.
It’s the truth, for him. After what feels like months of gasping for air, he feels desperate to feel, just for a moment, the comfort of one that doesn’t feel so labored.
“Have you seen the gardens? Mum is very proud of them.”
The gardens, I—Who have I become? James thinks as he mentally berates himself for not thinking of something more debonair to say.
He sees Lily’s head snap up, but she doesn’t speak right away. James feels his heart thumping roughly against his chest in the waiting and hopes that it doesn’t sound as loud to her as it does to his own ears. “I haven’t.” she says finally. “I only saw them in passing as I was walking to the tent.”
“Well, if we both could use some air…shall we?” James gestures forward with one hand.
“Lead the way.” Lily replies with a polite, if not strained, smile.
James guides Lily through the gardens that take up residence on the Potters’ sprawling estate, pointing out which flowers are his mother’s favorite and telling her Euphemia’s inspiration for the immaculately shaped shrubbery and trees as the tension between them begins to dissipate. He shows her the areas where he and his friends played hide and seek when they were young and planned mischief when they were older, sharing stories of their schemes that Lily apparently believed to be too outlandish to actually be true.
“That really happened? You’re not having me on?” She asks. James grins and shakes his head. Some things in this world are so strange that they have to be true. Like your best friend becoming your brother. Or meeting the woman of your dreams and suffocating slowly because you’re too afraid to take the risk of approaching her.
“You swear?” he hears Lily ask.
“That I was up to no good? Solemnly.”
Lily laughs and shakes her head at him as they continue to move through garden. While he had written the idea off when his mother had mentioned it months ago, he is happily surprised to find that Lily seems to be enjoying their evening stroll through the gardens.
But there’s something else there too. In between his jokes and commentary, James notices her sneaking glances at him, turning her head quickly if they happen to make eye contact.
“Is everything alright?” James asks.
“Of course!” Lily says too quickly. “Why do you ask?”
James scratches the back of his head nervously and feels his shoulders tense. Everything clearly isn’t alright.
“Well, earlier you said you needed air, and now you keep giving me odd looks…I can’t get a read for you, so I can’t…” But an idea comes to him, unwelcome. “Did you want to be alone earlier? I just realized that I may have intruded—”
“No! That’s not it at all.” Lily replies, even faster this time. “I’m just not used to you looking so buttoned up, is all. Normally when I see you, you’re wearing sweatshirts.”
James exhales and lets out a shaky laugh as he runs a hand through his hair, relief running down his spine like cool water on a summer’s day. “Yes, well, I’d have gladly come more casual this evening, but mum would have killed me.”
“We can’t have that, now, can we?”
“No, I quite like living.” They laugh and the smile on her face gives James some of the courage he’s been missing as he takes her in from up close. Her lipstick. The light smattering of freckles across the one shoulder her dress leaves uncovered. He finds himself mentally going through the now familiar refrain: deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“You look amazing, by the way. I should have said earlier.” James says, testing the waters.
“Oh, this old thing?” Lily asks jokingly. “Just my standard fancy event dress. You know, for when my new boss’ wife decides to throw parties that rival the BRITs.” She jokingly nudges him with her shoulder as he snorts.
“Mum’s over-the-top parties aside, you can’t convince me anything about this is standard.” He stops walking to look at her full on, and when she stops and turns to face him as well, he has to stuff his hands into his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting. “You’re stunning.” The words leave him in a huff of air that nearly sounds like a whisper, but the breeze around them is beginning to pick up and seems to carry his words to her anyways.
“Thank you.” Lily replies, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear nervously as she looks out across the hedges. He hadn’t been able to get a read for her earlier, but he knows looking for a distraction when he sees it. He doubts she’s really that interested in Euphemia’s Bearded Irises. But he also knows that he’s crossed some sort of invisible threshold, and the awkwardness that has been hovering in the background of their conversation like a lurking shadow threatens to take over with each passing second. He’s come this far—too far—to turn back and not say how he feels, to not see if the spark he’d felt between them months ago had been real or imagined.
James steels himself and takes a step towards her, though he doesn’t really know what he plans to say. “Lily, I—"
I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t focus when I’m not near you. You take my breath away when I am. I’m afraid I missed my chance, that soon you’ll be Mrs. Grey Suit and the thought of it makes me physically ill and does nothing for my dwindling lung capacity.
None of his thoughts seem adequate for the moment between them as they stand in the dark seclusion of his mother’s gardens.
Before his speech has a chance to betray him, he feels something wet land on his forearm. He looks from his arm to the sky when another drop of water plops on his face. Lily has turned to follow his gaze now and jerks her head back in surprise as a rain drop falls onto her nose, and another on that glorious shoulder, then another on her eyelash.
When had they moved so close to each other?
His eyes linger over her for a second too long, watching hers grow wide, when more drops begin to fall heavily around them.
“Damn, it’s about to rain. We need to get back to the tent.” James says. His eyes lock on hers and he forces himself to peel them away so he can concentrate.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
He takes off his suit jacket and places it over her head and shoulders to provide a layer of protection from the rain. She looks as if she may protest, but as the storm picks up, she decides against it. James is glad, and begins walking quickly, partially to get them back to the shelter of the tent, but mostly to prevent himself from doing or saying something stupid. But it’s no use. In a matter of seconds, the heavens open up, catching them in a torrential downpour.
“Shit, we aren’t going to make it.” James looks around before taking Lily’s hand. “Follow me!” He calls out over the roar of the rain falling around them. Lily nods and allows him guides her as fast as her heels would allow her to run. The warmth of her hand in his is enough to distract him from the way his hair drips water into his eyes and the treacherous way the grass and mud shifts under their footsteps.
Moments later, they reach the old stone gazebo where he and Sirius often spent time as teenagers, practicing comedy routines that would have caused Euphemia to wash their mouths out with soap had she heard them. He smiles a bit at the memory as he pulls Lily up the concrete steps and underneath it’s covering.
James is fully drenched by this point. His white dress shirt sticks to him uncomfortably and his socks and shoes are covered in the mud they’d just trudged through.
“I didn’t think about the possibility for rain when I took you through the gardens.” James says apologetically toes off his damp shoes and socks. “Did my jacket help at least?”
“The jacket is much appreciated. Saved my top half at any rate.” Lily leans onto the stone column in the center of the gazebo and toes off her heeled shoes as well, sighing at the mud now caked up their sides and onto her feet. She pulls the hem of her dress around, and James sees that it is in a markedly different state than the top of her dress, which appears to be nearly dry.
“I’m sorry.” He winces.
“Don’t be. I can hardly blame you for the rain.” She says as she wrings out the ends of her hair. James imagines the way it must have streamed behind her as they ran, and then imagines what it might feel like slipping through his fingers.
“We should probably wait here until it lets up. Hopefully it’s not too long.” He says as he walks toward the gazebo’s edge. His shirt grows more uncomfortable with every movement, and while it hadn’t been particularly chilly that evening, he didn’t want to risk getting sick to top off what is panning out to be an abysmal evening.
“My shirt being soaked through is feeling dreadfully unpleasant at the moment. Do you mind if I…?” He trails off and gestures at removing his shirt. “I can leave it on though, if you’re more comfortable that way.”
“Don’t be silly.” She sounds preoccupied as she attempts to squeeze water from bottom of her dress. I’d hate for you to get sick.”
James sighs in relief as he peels the shirt from his skin, though it’s short lived when he realizes his cufflinks are still on. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he works at the pin on his right wrist.
“For fuck’s sake. You’re even more fit than I thought you were.”
James blinks and snaps his head up in shock at Lily’s words. She’s still leaning on the column in the gazebo’s interior, eyes wide with her hand slapped against her forehead, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. She clearly hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
James wonders if he misheard her, but the panicked flush settling onto her face tells him otherwise. Without taking his eyes from her, James removes his right cufflink and then the left, rolling his shoulders as he finally manages to free himself from the shirt and toss it to the ground by his shoes and socks.
“I want to make sure I heard you correctly.” James tilts his head to the side, looking briefly down toward the ground before staring at her head on. “I don’t want to assume—”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I thought I had said it in my head—”
She’s still rambling as he walks toward her, only stopping when he places his hands on either side of her face and pulls her lips to his.
James can’t tell if the pounding in his ears is the thunder outside their shelter or the blood pounding through his veins, but he doesn’t want any of it to stop. In a thrill, he realizes that Lily seems to agree. She leans forward onto her toes, melting into the kiss as she threads her fingers through his hair and pulls lightly. He moans into her mouth at the sensation, and he feels a small grin against his lips at the noise. It’s a noise she later echoes as he drops one hand from her face and places it on her waist to pull her flush against him.
However damp he felt before, all James can currently feel is warmth flooding through his extremities as he pushes her back up against the column. Without breaking the kiss, he slides his hand down the backs of her thighs before hoisting her up and holding her in place with his hips.
He quickly loses track of time. All he knows is hands and skin and lips and tongues and breath, the last of which he is quickly running out of. They lean back at the same time, gasping for air as their brains rush to comprehend what had just happened.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” James says as his breathing begins to even out.
“You have?” she sounds as if he doesn’t quite believe it. But James nods emphatically.
“Since moment I first laid eyes you.” He nearly cringes at his actions over the last few months, dopey and unsophisticated and green, and wonders how they hadn’t given him away.
Lily lets out a dry laugh. “I thought…” She trails off shaking her head.
“What did you think?” He asks softly, still sounding a bit breathless as he traces her cheekbone with his thumb.
“I thought you weren’t interested. And then tonight I saw you with Bertha—”
James’ thumb, which had been tracing the line of her bottom lip suddenly froze. He furrows his brow and shakes his head in confusion before looking at her in disbelief. “You thought I was interested in Bertha Jorkins?”
“I mean…” Lily shrugs and looks across the gazebo, but James leans his forehead to hers, locking eyes on her bright green irises and allowing their noses to brush.
“I was only being polite to Bertha because she wouldn’t leave me alone while I was waiting on you to finish talking to the bloke in the grey suit.”
“Grey suit?” Lily asks before recognition clicks. “Benjy Fenwick? We were just catching up. I hadn’t seen him since uni.”
“Yes well, the two of you were chatting so easily and for so long that I nearly challenged him to a duel at dawn.”
“You’re absurd.” Lily laughs as she runs one hand across his back and uses the other to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. He just barely manages to prevent his eyes from rolling into the back of his head.
“There are worst things to be.” He whispers as drops his head down to trail his lips across the skin spanning her shoulder and neck, stopping only to nip at her earlobe. She shivers slightly beneath him, and he can’t help but grin, no longer feeling like the floundering, fumbling idiot that he’s been for the last few months.
The recollection makes James pull back to look her in the eyes, no longer willing to leave anything to chance. “It’s you I’m interested in. I’ve spent a small fortune taking Dad out to lunch each week just to get a glimpse of you.”
“You what?” she laughs again.
James nods with a light chuckle of his own as he resumes his thumb’s tracing of her bottom lip. “My parents have been laughing at me for months. I’ve been attempting to ask you to lunch instead of Dad. Or to dinner. Or to forever, if you’re so inclined. I just couldn’t work up the nerve. It’s uncharacteristic of me. I’m usually a bit brash.” He lets his gaze follow his index finger as it lightly grazes across the skin of her shoulder, which is quickly becoming his favorite of her body parts.
Lily reaches up to thread her fingers through his hair once more, smiling as he leans into her touch, even more so at the groan he lets out as her fingernails graze his scalp. He plants another kiss to her shoulder, biting lightly and flicking his tongue over the spot to return the favor.
“I prefer brash actually.” Lily says as she wraps her ankles fully around his waist in pulls him in impossibly close
“Is that so?” he nips lightly at her bottom lip. Lily gives him a mischievous smile and it does him in. He feels like he should hope she doesn’t feel the way his heart beats frantically against his chest, but he really can’t bring himself to care.
“Oh, definitely.” She says lightly as she leans her face toward him, teasingly stopping just a hairsbreadth away from his mouth.
“I should probably do more of that then.” He says as he closes the gap and presses his lips to hers again. It’s a while before they come up for air, but James doesn’t feel that he needs it. He’s made his peace with the fact that Lily Evans will always leave him a little breathless. And as her hands wander from his back and shoulders before taking residence in his hair once more, James decides that there are worse things to be.
As Lily and James get better acquainted, Sirius Black is walking through the entrance of the tent, shaking out his umbrella.
“Well?” Asks an impatient voice to his right. Sirius chuckles to himself.
“The two of them are rather preoccupied at the moment. Saw a bit more than I bargained for.” He throws Euphemia knowing look. He’s extremely proud of James, if not a little surprised at the er…progress his friend had made that evening.
Euphemia clasps her hands together happily. “A small sacrifice, I’m sure.”
Sirius snorts. “Sending Bertha to go talk to him was a risky move, you know. It could have backfired.”
“Oh, tosh! James and Lily had been making eyes at each other all evening. I knew that one of them just needed a jealous push.” Euphemia looks very pleased with her planning as she pretends to examine her manicure.
“Still a gamble.”
“Go big or go home.” She shrugs before turning back to the crowd in the tent. “I’ll be a grandmother yet.”
“You may be one within the year at the rate they’re going.” Sirius says with a sly grin as he takes her arm and escorts her past the dance floor and toward the table where Fleamont is anxiously waiting, pretending that he isn’t also invested in the news.
“Let’s hope so, darling.” She whispers conspiratorially as she leans in and gives Sirius a wink. “You know, we may be able to find someone here for you too—”
“Ah…Let’s not get too carried away.”