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i.
of objectively odd habitats
The Forbidden Forest was a rather nice place to live, so long as you weren’t a gnome who disliked the color green (this was because of a slight issue with the trolls encroaching on their territory, and the green was because it was a forest). There were the occasional pests like the aforementioned trolls, or second-sons wandering through looking for a magic sword who had to be firmly told to keep out of the Glimmering Glen; there was also a slight issue with the Consortium of Wizards and their annual Leave-A-Spell-Take-A-Spell charity auction, which always ended up with some unfortunate human as a hedgehog. However, on the whole it was a pleasantly magical place, so far as magical places go, and Lily Evans would tell anyone who asked exactly this.
She lived in a very round house with inordinately tall windows and a reasonably sized front door (reasonable meaning most anyone could fit through it without hunching their shoulders awkwardly, unless that someone was a giant or a wizard with a particularly large hat).
Lily would tell people this, except the only people she did see were of the sort that she’d rather not converse with. Being a witch and living relatively close to the border of the Forbidden Forest and the Kingdom of Gryffindor meant that most weary, good-hearted (read: annoying and arrogant) travelers ended up stopping by her cottage asking for something.
For the first few months of her somewhat exile, Lily had tried striking up conversations with each passing knight, prince, duchess, or woodcutter’s son, but this had only gotten her three marriage proposals, one attempted pitchfork-staking, dozens of blank looks and had the unfortunate side effect of terrorizing the cats (and that was never good for anyone’s peace of mind).
By her eighteenth year, Lily had decided that witches were better off alone and she would help every questing fool who took a jaunt through her part of the Forbidden Forest—but she would not enjoy it, and she would most certainly not get involved.
ii.
of princely princes and their swashbuckling swords
On a particularly sunny Tuesday in June, when the wind was mild and the last spring flowers were stubbornly clinging to life in the face of summer grass (not counting the enchanted blossoms, of course, who bloomed when they saw fit), Lily found herself spending her morning arguing with a prince.
She was expecting him, of course—every witch expects visitors, though the details are not always clear. In this case, she had the details, though it was the fault of her own stubbornness that she did not know all of them, and therefore her greeting lacked something in hospitality.
Three knocks, a polite cough, she marched over to her respectably sized front door and wrenched it open. Sunlight flooded in. “Prince whatever-your-name-is,” she snapped and glared quite fiercely. “You’re late.”
And the prince, who was so tall that he almost would’ve bumped his head against the doorframe and offended Lily’s very reasonable pride in her respectably sized door, stared at her. “Sorry?” he said. “Are you—you’re the witch, aren’t you?”
Lily stepped forward determinedly, forcing him back onto the porch, then onto the steps and shut her door with a click. “Of course I am,” she declared and narrowed her eyes. “I repeat, you’re late.”
The prince almost fell trying to go down the stairs backwards and in a hurry, then he came to a stop and Lily nearly groaned as she recognized a particularly princely quality coming over his face. Stubbornness. “Well,” he said and crossed his arms. “I ran into a fish, so it’s not my fault.”
Things got a bit off topic from there.
“—you’re the witch at the edge of the forest,” the prince said, sounding quite certain. He still hadn’t moved from her front step. “You offer aid to questers.”
“Offer is a stretch,” Lily said and mimicked his arms-crossed stance. She scowled determinedly. “I’m contractually obligated.”
The prince blinked. “How?”
“None of your business how,” Lily said. “Now, ask me your question and begone.”
“Begone?” The prince blinked owlishly at her, as if no one had ever dismissed him in his life. Looking at him, she was quite certain that no one ever had.
Lily was starting to get a headache. “Fine, no question,” she said. “It’s a formality anyways, witches know things.” She took a deep breath and recited: “Go left, travel along the Fern River until you reach a grove of silver trees with ruby petals. Turn right, take another right at the meadow of white petaled-flowers but don’t take a seat. Cross one fiery chasm, then you’ll be at your destination. Whatever it is.” Witches know things, but Lily had heard so many ridiculous quests and stories that they all tended to blur together, so she’d started tuning out anything nonessential.
“Thanks,” the prince said after a second. “That’s quite helpful, actually. All the court soothsayer gave me was a map of Northumbria. But that’s not actually what I was going to ask you.”
“I’m not a genie,” Lily said warningly, and perhaps a bit snappishly. “Don’t even try rubbing me for wishes.”
The prince looked shocked at the very suggestion. “Of course—no!” His hand shot to his hair, gripping tightly. He drew himself up higher, gaining determination. “I want you to come with me on my quest,” he said.
She stared at him, then laughed. “No,” she spluttered. “You’ve got your directions, now go.”
“You’re supposed to assist me!” the prince pointed out quickly. He was still grinning, but there was something about the way that he was looking directly at her and not moving an inch…he wasn’t stupid, this one. “And the assistance I want is for you to come along. Please.” He added the second bit like an afterthought of good breeding.
“No.”
“Technically you have to.”
“Technically, I could turn you into a frog and be done with this,” Lily said waspishly, which was an utter lie. Minerva, who wasn’t technically the Head Witch (witches didn’t have organized societies like those pandering wizards), but was nonetheless considered to be in charge of all sorts of affairs, would swoop down within minutes and scold her and then she’d have to go through all the trouble of unenchanting him…
“I’m sure I could find someone to kiss me,” the prince said with a shrug and a wider grin. She wanted to hit him immediately. Not even curse, hit. Perhaps with one of the potted geraniums on her windowsill, except that would make a dreadful mess and the cats would be after her for days about her temper and how they were victims in the crossfire…
Hm, perhaps no plants.
“Another toad perhaps,” Lily said scathingly. She crossed her arms, hating how foolish it made her feel. “I am not coming on your quest.”
“Yes, you are,” the prince said. “You have no choice, and I really need the help.”
“Yes, I’d imagine you do,” Lily said, running an eye over him. He wasn’t unfortunate looking—unfortunately, he was extremely handsome—but he wasn’t necessarily princely. All the others who’d come by her house to bother her for this quest or that curse had been attired in shining armor, bulging with muscle and full of puffed-up arrogance.
This prince was tall and somewhat lanky, though his shoulders were certainly nothing to be scoffed at, and he was wearing a simple pair of trousers with a shirt and jacket, sword sheathed at his side. His hair looked like someone ran a tornado through it, and she couldn’t even imagine him balancing a crown on that mess. His spectacles were rectangular and crooked. He was confident and stubborn and…
He wasn’t princely, but he was…nice. To look at.
To Lily’s never-ending horror, she realized she’d started to blush. No, that just won’t do. She cleared her throat and drew herself up to her full height, trying not to notice how even with her standing on a porch and him below he was still taller than her. “To make this very clear,” she said. “I’m not coming.”
The prince appeared to be ignoring her words now because he just pulled his sword out—she inhaled—speared it into the ground, leaned against it and glanced at her. “What’s your name?”
She was so surprised by the casual question and how he was leaning that the truth came out, though usually she was careful not to give her name to questing princes. “Lily.”
“I’m James,” the prince said and straightened to give a little bow—the hilt of his sword got tangled in his belt somewhere along the way and he teetered a bit, then recovered his balance.
“Right,” Lily said, staring. She was starting to wonder if this entire meeting was a dream, or perhaps an elaborate prank by one of the cats. “Well, James. I am not going on your quest.”
“Yes, Lily, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
iii.
a clarification
There’s one thing about the Forbidden Forest that wasn’t quite mentioned earlier: destiny is quite a tricky thing, and in the Forbidden Forest, it’s almost impossible to run from it. (Almost: an important addendum is the case of Maverick the Menacing, who was destined to be sat on by a giant but managed to run away to Swalayan through a wizard-run, discount magic carpet business).
Witches, of course, know this better than anyone, and no amount of arguing, discussing or frequent sidetracks into discussions about the cats, the weather and the dubious fish story could detract from it.
Destiny is unavoidable, especially when it comes to princes.
So naturally, in the way of things in the Forbidden Forest, she went on his quest.
iv.
(and also of proper posture of all sorts)
James was not a very proper prince.
That’s not to say he was bad at being a prince, per se—he sat through the formal dinners, nodded politely to the ambassadors without promising anything problematic, and even managed to avoid scandal with two princesses, one maid, and a particularly handsome stable boy. He also had no illusions of running away to avoid the weight of his crown, since his parents were elderly and loving and really, dealing with a lot of paperwork and fussing ministers for the rest of his life seemed like the least he could do for all the riches he got to enjoy.
James spent a lot of time thinking about the concept of fairness—and as someone set to inherit a kingdom, this wasn’t a bad thing to occupy his time with. He was both scrupulously aware of the inequalities of the world and terribly naive about anything and everything, which had the combination of making him occasionally earnestly foolish, and often endearingly arrogant.
All this to say, he was the perfect candidate for a quest, because he didn’t much mind being on the road or adventuring or occasionally engaging in a duel. Also, in this case he had a very good reason to be going on said quest, and anyone who said that ‘princes shouldn’t rescue other princes, it’s not proper’ was a stuffed shirt who could choke on a piece of frittata.
The fish was quite unfortunate.
James was sure he’d taken the correct turn after the Field of Blithering Blooms, but then he’d ended up at the Great Lake and the trout had taken particular exception to him—wanting him to answer a riddle, then wishing to eat him when he couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer.
James privately thought the fish was a bit testy, since his answer—smoked salmon sandwiches, naturally—seemed good enough to him, but on the whole the experience delayed him two hours and now he was facing a very furious, very pretty witch accusing him of purposeful tardiness.
James didn’t even realize he’d almost broken his neck by falling down the front steps of her house—a two story, alarmingly round cottage with potted geraniums on the front windowsill—because…
Because…
Two princesses, a maid and a handsome stable boy and closely averted scandal.
Galloping gargoyles, should he have been looking for witches this whole time?
This particular witch—the only witch he’d ever met, and the only one he ever saw himself wanting to meet—was red-haired, bristling, glaring and flushed-cheeked and James was struck that he’d never had the incident of meeting someone for the first time and feeling the immediate, desperate urge to kiss them until they both ran out of air.
There wouldn’t have been any closely averted scandal with her. It would’ve been scandal of the highest order, because she’d have swept into his parents throne room with her ink-stained silk robes and raised chin and decimated everyone with a look and he’d have fallen to his knees and offered her his kingdom. Which wasn’t even his to give, technically, so it would be doubly embarrassing for everyone involved.
All things considered and since she didn’t seem all that fond of him, none of his fantasies seemed like they would be happening any time soon and so James should try to control his baser instincts.
He should try.
“There was a fish—“ the weak excuse fell from his lip and it wasn’t even an excuse, but Godric it sounded like one at that moment. James still felt like the world had run out of air and he was partially blind or perhaps falling ill with the plague. Was it possible to suffer a heart attack at age twenty?
He was seriously considering asking this beautiful witch about the medical probability of it all—that was close enough to a doctor, isn’t it?—and maybe asking her to dim her lovely sparkle enough that his brain could start functioning again, but she fixed him with a seriously unimpressed look.
“A fish?” she said and propped her hands on her hips. She had very good posture—straight, head held high, looking him square in the face from one step above. “That’s your excuse? Merlin, I’ve heard better from that thirteen year old prince of Beauxbatons who kept trying to scare the cats by running at them.”
“Cats?”
A fuzzy head popped up over the windowsill of the cottage and James jumped, but the witch waved it off. “You,” she said, “are late, and that’s quite inconvenient for me, and really quite rude.”
“But it’s not my fault!” James argued, straightening. “That’s not fair—“
“What does fairness have to do with it?” the witch said with an arched brow. James was beginning to recover from his initial smitten reaction—that was to say, he was starting to hear sound and smell scents and see colors that weren’t her hair or eyes.
Then he paused. “Of course fairness has to do with it!” he argued, glaring back despite himself. “It’s—what’s the world without fairness?”
The witch stared at him, then said as if he’s being slow, “The world.”
“You’re quite cynical,” James said and the witch scoffed.
Her attitude was slowly puncturing the ballon of confidence he’d started out his quest with, but James wasn’t losing it entirely. Cynical witch or not, this was a quest and he had a feeling she was supposed to come along with him. And quests always played out the way they were supposed to. That was the first lesson that every prince learned.
v.
starting a quest and other assorted troubles
Packing for a quest on a time limit was possibly the worst way to spend three quarters of an hour—and she and James argued the entire time, which didn’t help. She wanted to pack sandwiches, he thought that was silly, she thought that he’d prefer to starve to death or die from eating a poisoned berry, choking on his own spit, then?
James froze and blinked. “No,” he said after a second. “I wouldn’t like that.”
Lily huffed and shoved another pair of turkey sandwiches in her never-ending pockets. “I thought so,” she muttered. Stupid duty. Stupid exile.
One mistake in her youth and here she was—playing babysitter for an argumentative, obscenely cheerful prince while preparing to walk the length of the Forbidden Forest.
“Why can’t we take a broom?” James said, lingering by the front door. He seemed wary to come in, which satisfied a petty part of Lily’s spirit, though his eyes were on the broom leaning against the wall and he looked faintly eager.
Lily gave him a contemptuous look. “That’s for sweeping,” she said flatly and brushed past him to grab a comb. “I’m a witch, not a sporty fool.”
James looked slightly offended by that, which she took to mean he participated in all sorts of sports, including the variety with lances, horses and occasionally enchanted brooms.
One of the cats gave Lily a very unimpressed look when she passed that said: you’re not going to be getting rid of him that easily. Lily privately agreed, but it wasn’t the done thing to agree with your pets, especially if that pet was a cat, so she just scowled, herded James out onto the porch and shut the reasonably-sized front door.
“Right,” Lily said. “Let’s get this bleeding quest of yours over with.”
The Forbidden Forest was usually good for a few mid-morning strolls and Lily was the owner of several pairs of shoes good for walking, being a very sensible sort of person, so by all accounts this shouldn’t have been an unpleasant experience.
And maybe it wouldn’t have been if the prince didn’t talk incessantly.
“So who are you saving?” Lily said irritably, stomping forward and cutting him off midway through his running commentary about some prank involving an advisor and a kettle of custard. “Let me guess, your girlfriend? The Princess of FaLaLaLand with her pretty hair and glass slippers? Or a boyfriend who was simple enough to fall into a giant’s lair?”
James was annoying undeterred by her jibes. “No,” he said. “My brother.”
That made her steps falter and before Lily could stop herself—get it over with, don’t get involved—her gaze slid over to him. “Your brother?”
James grinned. “Prat was simple enough to get himself cursed,” he said with a chuckle. He swung his sword in his hand as they walked, occasionally grazing the grass, but never cutting through any plants. She wondered if it was a coincidence, or if he’d been taught not to harm the plants in case they were magical. “He got into a series of rather intense arguments with a delegate from Slytherin, so naturally—“
“They had him kidnapped?” Lily filled in and she almost smiled when James shot her a surprised look. “I’m not a total shut in. I do keep up with politics.”
“Right,” James said after a second, though he was still looking at her with an expression she couldn’t place. “Anyways, yes. They were cowards about it too—magicked him out in the middle of the night. And the court soothsayer said he was trapped in a cursed tower somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, but it’s so dangerous in here that—“
“Dangerous?” Lily couldn’t stop herself from interjecting. “Please.”
James paused with a polite expression on his face, but she could tell he didn’t agree with her.
Lily gestured widely. “Does this look dangerous to you?”
The Forest was green and lush, sunlight streaming down through the canopy. The ground was carpeted with moss and flowers were peeking out from between roots. A squirrel hopped from one branch to the next. Lily’s cottage was at the western edge of the forest where the trees thinned somewhat and the more tricky magical creatures didn’t tread; the route they were taking to James’s imprisoned brother took them around the edge of the forest, heading north.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” James said, which was the most sensible thing she’d heard him say yet.
“Perhaps,” Lily allowed, tucking her mouth to the side. “But the Forest isn’t dangerous as long as you’ve got a bit of common sense and a good head on your shoulders.” She gives him a doubtful look. “You might want to see about a haircut, that could affect your vision.”
James raised a brow. “You think my hair is the biggest thing affecting my vision?”
“I think you’ve got several factors going for you that are going to make questing incredibly difficult.”
James shrugged. “Eh, I’ve survived so far,” he said and tucked his hands in his pockets. The trees were beginning to grow larger and the sunlight was dappled now, greater periods of shade between brightness. Despite herself, Lily almost found her shoulders relaxing. Even if he was an utter nuisance, this prince wasn’t boring. He brightened then and she could tell another anecdote was coming. “In fact, did I tell you about the time that Sirius and I snuck into the kitchens to—“
And that was when James fell right into the gnome swamp.
vi.
ode to organic cotton (only!) and gnomes (disgruntled)
James was taught three rather important lessons as a child:
Number one was never to give a pixie his name, of course, since one of his more foolish great-uncles had made that mistake and spent the rest of his days in a pumpkin underneath a small, grassy hill in the northwest part of the Forbidden Forest.
Number two was never to go into the Forbidden Forest.
Number three was—should he ever have to go into the Forbidden Forest—to never, ever, ever pick a fight with a gnome.
Gnomes usually resided in caves and dry, subterranean habitats, but James was—following his sudden plummet into the ground—surprised to find that these particular gnomes lived in a swamp.
It was quite a shallow swamp, so really it was more of a stagnant pond with aspirations to be a swamp, and two trees were slumping around the edges, creating the impression that the entire locale was contained between the folds of a very rough piece of burlap.
All of this, however, was entirely irrelevant because of the gnomes.
“Ah—“
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN OUR SWAMP?!”
James was kicked painfully in the spine, fell, stagnant swamp water flooded his nose. The light from the forest was still shining, so he mustn’t be entirely below ground—
“Wait!”
James froze, hands flung out in front of him and the three gnomes—all boasting bushy red eyebrows—also paused. One on the left was scowling at him. “You,” he growled, “are late.”
James was mighty sick of being accused of tardiness. “What?” he splutters. He didn’t dare look up, though he hoped Lily had seen where he’d gone and could manage some kind of witchy intervention.
The other gnome splashed forward in the swamp. “Where’s the cotton?” he demanded. “The dungarees? The harem pants? The pashminas?”
James blinked rapidly. “The—“
“I told you they’d shortchange us, Doug,” the third gnome grumbled. “Never trust express owl shopping—it’s just not the same as going to a tailor, like we did in my day! Everything’s so modern now.”
“Uh…” James was beginning to fear that the two gnomes and Doug thought that he was here as part of some clothing delivery service, and that they would chop him up to pieces or perhaps drown him in two inches of swamp water when they found out he was a prince. He tried to straighten to his full height. “I think there’s been a little misunderstanding, I don’t have cotton—“
“You have acrylic?” Doug demanded. He sounded horrified and his eyebrows jumped three spots higher on his forehead. “That’s unacceptable! We only wear ethically, naturally sourced organic cotton!” He paused and added, somewhat self-righteously, “Only way to ensure there’s no chafing.”
James blanched. “I’m not delivering clothes!” he said quickly, backing up a bit and chancing a look around. No sign of Lily and his back was throbbing something fierce where the gnomes had kicked him at the beginning. “I’m terribly sorry I fell into your…” he looked around the crevice for a second, “…living room?”
Doug scowled heartily. “If you don’t have the pashminas, dungarees, or harem pants then why are here?”
“Uh…” James thought this was a very good question, and one he couldn’t necessarily answer. “Gravity?”
The three gnomes considered that, then muttered together for a second. “Hm, its—“ “—clearly—“ “—not a cotton wearer—“ “—sweet Circe, he might be wearing polyester—“
They eventually separated and regarded him. “Well,” Doug said. “You’ve intruded on our swamp. Unfortunately, we have to eat you now.”
“Unfortunately for who?” the second gnome said.
“Me, human always gives me a stomachache,” the third gnome griped, looking at James. “This one seems like all height and muscle too…no fatty bits.”
For lack of anything better to do, a very alarmed James scooped up a bunch of soggy swamp leaves and threw them at them. “I refuse to be eaten!” he cried and then he kicked some water for good measure.
The gnomes sputtered and started shouting; one snarled and began advancing. “Humans—“
There was a loud cracking noise from above and for a second James smelled the bright scent of lemon and something not dissimilar to soap, then something latched painfully tight around his wrist and the world went inside out.
vii.
a brief interlude on the subject of anecdotes and when it is proper to relate them
“The kettle of custard was really quite instrumental to the entire mess, you see, because if I hadn’t messed up the heating temperature, it wouldn’t have burned Sinistra so badly—“
“You burned an advisor with custard?”
“During a national summit. Yes. That’s when I was banned from all further national summits.”
Droll. “I wonder why.”
“I felt terrible about it though—Sirius spearheaded that one and he tends to get carried away at the best of times, but I really shouldn’t have put myself in charge of heating, I know I’m shite with stoves—“
“How do you know—never mind, I don’t want to know.”
“Actually there were three separate incidents that led to—“
viii.
the derriere clause
James toppled over the second the world stopped spinning. “What the fuck,” he wheezed.
Lily let go of his wrist. “You idiot,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you look where you were going?”
“How did we just move—“
“I’m a witch.”
James staggered to his feet, blinking rapidly and grimacing as his bruised tailbone twinged. They were standing in a clearing in the forest that moss-covered, quiet and—most important of all—gnome free. “Well,” he said. “That was dreadful.”
Lily looked like she was trying to swallow a scream. “What,” she said in exasperation, “did you think was going to happen if you hit them with a leaf? A leaf, James.”
“I—“
“A. Leaf.”
“But—“
“Leaf!”
“I don’t know!” James cried and straightened, giving her an injured glance. “I was trying to survive a brutal mauling—“
“You are such a child—“
“—and now you’re being mean to me while I’m injured. Some witch you are.”
“Witches are known for being cruel, child-cursing miscreants and general menaces to society,” Lily said unflappably, then sighed. “Come here. Let me see your back.”
“I don’t want you poking my arse,” James grumbled, but he still straightened and—wincing—made his way over to her. Perhaps because he was a known liar, and he could think of nothing more enticing to him than Lily admiring his shapely bum. Except he’d prefer if it wasn’t happening while he was bruised black and blue and had just been beat up by a street gang of naturally sourced, cotton-attired gnomes.
Lily ran a hand carefully over his back—not touching, but close enough to make him stiffen at her warmth—and then James made a sharp sound as he felt a sensation not dissimilar to someone dumping cold yogurt down the back of his shirt.
“Sorry,” Lily said apologetically. She stepped back and dropped her hand. “The only witch I know who can do that without the unpleasant sensation lives in Hufflepuff and he’s a piece of work.”
James blinked. “He? But you said witch…” Somewhere in the middle of that sentence, James realized he was being unbearably foolish.
Lily regarded him severely. “I’m a witch,” she said. “He’s a witch. What difference does it make?”
His mouth opened, closed. “Well, none, I suppose.”
She very nearly rolled her eyes. “It’s a title, not someone rummaging through your drawers and figuring out what kind of knickers you prefer to wear,” she said precisely and rolled up her billowing sleeves. “A witch is a witch, and honestly all I care about is the accuracy of their spells. Speaking of which, we need to get going if you want your brother to get rescued this century.”
James followed her along readily enough, but in less than a minute he started talking again. “Are there wizards?”
Lily scoffed as if this was a ridiculous question. “Of course,” she said.
“So, what do they do?”
“What do they—magic, James.”
“Well, I know that—“
“Then why did you ask? Did you expect me to say they spend their days cooking soufflés and making crêpes?” She paused. “Well, I do know one wizard who makes some rather good crêpes.”
James stared at her. “You—know a wizard who makes good crêpes?” he repeated.
“Albus is mysterious,” Lily said with a faint snort. She started walking again. “But one has to admire his fashion sense and his collection of exotic culinary dishes. If you ever need a wok, he’s the person to go to.”
“Noted,” James said after a second and he could’ve sworn that for the first time since he met her that morning, Lily was almost not annoyed.
ix.
river rabble
His traumatic interaction with the gnomes was put to the past, and they took a break for a lunch of sandwiches around one (James was privately grateful for Lily’s earlier foresight, even if it had been a main point of argument between them at the time), then carried on until they reached the burbling edge of the Fern River.
“We need to cross,” James said, hanging back and eyeing the water with due wariness. He’d heard enough stories about enchanted rivers in the Forbidden Forest to just go charging in.
Lily rolled her eyes and stepped forward into the water. It was only a few inches deep here and the hem of her black robe became very damp. “Excellent observation, Your Highness,” she said and waded forward calmly.
James scowled, then tightened his belt so his sword wouldn’t get wet and rust, and made to take a step into the river—
A cloud of blue smoke poofed into existence and a scowling, bearded figure appeared in front of him. “Stranger,” he bellowed. “Cross not my river without paying the libation!”
James yelped and backed up. Then he frowned. “Isn’t a libation an offering to a god?” he said.
The figure, who was blue-skinned and wearing a long robe of water and who James suddenly recognized as a nixie, scowled harder. “For that it’s two payments!” he boomed.
Lily had stopped in the stream and she turned to look at them. “Excuse me,” she said and propped her hands on her hips. “You don’t own the river, sir.”
“That is where you’re wrong, fair maiden!” the nixie said at the same alarming volume. He appeared to be winding up for a story. “I am the river itself, I am the roaring water, the droplets on rocks—“
“She’s a witch,” James said.
The nixie paused, mid-monologue. “Sorry?”
“She’s a witch,” James said. “Not a maiden. You really ought to get these things right.”
The nixie recovered quickly and scowled. “It matters not! Maiden or witch, you shall both pay the price of crossing my river—“
Lily had waded back over to James and she pursed her lips at the nixie. “What is the price?” she asked.
“My riddles three,” the nixie boomed. “Fail and you shall descend into the watery depths for eternity!”
James looked down at the river, which was only just wetting his ankles. “Right,” he said, then glanced at Lily. “Should I duel him?” he muttered to her.
Lily shot him a quelling look. “Whatever would you do that for?” she said and stepped forward. “Excuse me, but I think we should return to that issue of ownership. You can’t possibly own this particular stretch of the river. Water moves.”
“I am all water!”
“You’re a nixie,” Lily said and stuck him with a disapproving frown. “You are most certainly not all water, and if you’d care to argue the fact, I can refer you to the Consortium of Wizards.”
The nixie blanched. “Oh, sweet circling waves—not the Consortium. They never decide anything! And I went to the Leave-A-Spell-Take-A-Spell charity auction last year and all I got was a silly spell to change my hair hot pink! Can you imagine a nixie with pink hair?” He ran a self-conscious hand over his blue beard.
“I cannot,” James said, because it seemed like someone should agree with him.
Lily crossed her arms. “You have no ownership over the stream,” she said. “And we’re going to cross now. Good day.”
The nixie gaped at her. “You—fine,” he muttered. He was scowling. “Just because I don’t want to deal with Consortium, alright?” He shuddered.
“Perfectly understandable,” Lily assured him. “Have a good afternoon.”
The nixie melted into that same puff of blue smoke with a last glare. The smoke dissipated into the water. “That seems like pollution,” James muttered.
Lily took a careful step forward, then when she deemed it safe and satisfactory she turned to him with an impatient look. “Well, what’re you standing there for?” she said and snapped her fingers. “We’ve got to move.”
James thought he might be falling just a little bit in love with her.
x.
groves of silver trees, ruby petals and the sharing of body warmth for survival purposes ONLY
Both she and James were thoroughly exhausted by the time they got to the silver and ruby grove—enough so that neither of them blinked at the sparkle and shine of the clearing in the growing dark.
“We should make camp,” James suggested, stopping and looking around. “Keep going tomorrow.”
Lily nodded and began rummaging through her pockets. “I’ve got blankets,” she muttered, frowning as her fingers brushed against all sorts of objects. When was the last time she cleaned out her pockets? Eventually she came out with the correct items and a piece of flint to boot.
“Well,” Lily said in a very pleased sort of way and tossed the flint to James.
He caught it and while he busied himself with starting a fire, Lily sorted through the blankets and remaining sandwiches.
The day’s excitement must’ve worn both of them out a great deal more than they’d thought, because neither were particularly chatty as they ate, then drew blankets around themselves on the cold ground. Lily paused to set up a few wards, just as a precaution—she didn’t want to be eaten by a wandering dragon who happened to be in the mood for a snack because she’d been careless—then bundled herself as much as she could into her blanket.
That was another thing about the Forbidden Forest. It got terribly cold at night.
James was lying in silence a few feet away from her—the two of them were creating an oddly lopsided triangle with the dying fire. Lily tried not to shiver. She would cast a warming spell on both of them, only she’d left her myrtle root at home and spells she hadn’t cast in a while always required some measure of preparation. Silly of her.
She heard shifting in the dim darkness—the stars were still quite bright—then sound of someone turning towards her, and James’s voice came from the left. “Look, I know we’ve just met and it’s been a...trying day,” he said. “But it’s freezing and...well, you look cold.”
“Aren’t you cold?” Lily said, just so she didn’t show how taken aback she was by the concern in his voice.
“Of course I am,” James said. She could just see his silhouette. “But I’m not used to having magic to rely on, so I’m assuming you’ve got less experience with the sensation than I do.”
“How do you know I don’t have magic right now?” Lily asked, just to keep him talking.
“If you could cast a warming spell, you’d have done it already,” James pointed out.
Merlin, maybe her reasoning skills were rubbing off on him.
Lily sighed and turned her head to look at the sky full of sparkling stars. “Well, what do you suggest?” she said.
“I could hold you,” James said. His voice was low and she instantly froze. He cleared his throat. “I mean—for warmth. Obviously not like—“
“Just shut up,” Lily said with an exhale and scooted across the hard packed ground. She was glad for the night so that he couldn’t see how red her face was when his arm fell slowly over her waist, then his body shifted around hers. It was warm. And quite firm—that lankiness was deceptive. Lily suddenly felt quite small in his embrace, then became mortified at the things she was feeling.
“Alright?” She could feel his breath on the back of her neck when he spoke. She imagined if she leaned back a little his lips would touch her skin.
Lily exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “Not bad.”
“Warmer?”
A hum. The forest was dark, never quiet, sparkling stars in the sky that occasionally glinted off of the silver grove of trees. “I don’t—usually do this.”
“Cuddle with strange princes?”
Lily scoffed. “I’ve seen your arse,” she said. “I don’t think you qualify as a stranger in the strictest sense of the word.”
A low chuckle. “Fair enough.”
Lily was quiet for a second. “Just...be this close to someone else.”
“Really?” She could hear the surprise in his voice.
Lily shrugged, then stopped because the motion pushed her right up against his chest. “Most humans don’t want to have a witch for a girlfriend.”
“What about other witches?” It was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling from the tone of his voice.
Lily snorted. “Please, it’s a miracle if you can pry them away from their books long enough to ask directions to the toilet.”
James laughed. His arms were warm around her, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the hard ground.
Some witch I am if I have such a fallible heart. No spell works on the first try, don’t be hasty.
Lily closed her eyes and added quietly, “It’s nice.”
James took so long to respond that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but then his arm shifted, sliding more securely around her waist. His fingers brushed against hers, calloused against her skin. “I’m glad,” he said, then exhaled. “Sleep, Lily.”
xi.
dunk a prince in a stream day—special offer, only comes once a week!
Lily woke up tangled in a prince’s arms, which was alarming to her for a variety of reasons. Reason number one was that he was a prince. Reason number two was that she wasn’t in her house. Reason number three was that it was warm and cozy and their fingers were laced together. Reason number four was directly correlated to three, and it was that she liked it.
Lily inhaled, eyes taking in the sunlit silver and ruby grove of trees. She shifted a bit, but then James made a low noise and his arm tightened around her waist.
Lily froze.
His head dropped further into her neck and she felt the briefest press of his lips against her skin.
Lily’s blood thrummed. Her cheeks were bright red and her heart was pounding and she felt a bit like she might be ill, but also like she wouldn’t mind the sensation continuing.
Enough of this, she thought. You are a witch and you are not going to get involved.
Lily moved very obviously and she felt the second James woke up. She rolled away from him, then unwillingly glanced back. “Morning,” she said.
James blinked at her, raising his head. His hair was sticking up in every direction. “Morning.” His voice was rough from sleep and Lily blushed deeper still. She cleared her throat.
“We need to get going,” she said and stood up. The real forest started a few feet beyond the edge of the silver grove and she could hear a small stream burbling somewhere in the distance. “Turn right, get to the meadow of white-petaled flowers, then we’re almost there.”
“Right,” James said, blinking at her. He slowly got to his feet to, blankets dropping to the floor, then stretched with a soft groan.
Lily averted her eyes. “Let’s go,” she said briskly, already turning away and snapping her fingers to pack their things. The fire was already dead, but she doused it with a little water just to be sure.
James took a second to catch up with her quick pace, but within a bit they were walking along the edge of the stream side-by-side.
“Why do you dislike questers so much?” James asked after some time had passed and the sun was slanting down in a mid-morning sort of way.
“None of your business,” Lily said shortly. She was still remembering waking up in his arms and her embarrassment had the unfortunate effect of being transformed into ire.
James didn’t stop talking. “Some of us are pricks, I’ll grant you that,” he said. “Knights, especially. At least princes have some pressure to act well.”
Lily grunted, even though that was a very astute observation. She wanted James to get the message that she wasn’t interested in talking—mostly because every time he did talk, she was forced to hear his voice. Not that it was a bad voice to be hearing; quite the opposite, actually. Which was the problem. A very bad problem for her heart rate and her blood circulation and general mental wellbeing.
“Hey, do you think—“ James sounded utterly cheerful, utterly persistent and likely to keep talking for the rest of the morning, and Lily didn’t even think before she flicked her fingers.
He let out a cry, then he was thrown into the stream with a very wet splash.
Lily immediately winced, regret pulling at her ribs.
James spluttered, rising to his feet. The water of the stream came up to his waist and he blinked at Lily. “You threw me in a stream,” he said.
“Yes,” Lily said slowly. “I did.”
James nodded, glancing around. “Right,” he said, not looking upset about it. “So.” He started wringing out his soaked shirt and he adjusted his spectacles. “How does your magic work, exactly?”
Lily stared for one second, then she started laughing. It was all just so ridiculous. “You want to know?”
“I’ve only met court magicians,” James admitted and waded out of the stream with considerably more grace than she would’ve in his situation. “They’re a lot of drama and glitz, but when I was six I saw one store a rabbit in his sleeve and I’ve never trusted them since.”
“Good call,” Lily said. “Court magicians are charlatans. They wouldn’t know real magic if it bit them on the nose.”
James blinked at her as he polished his glasses on his wet shirt, which seemed useless to her. “You don’t seem fond of them,” he noted.
Lily made a face, sitting down on a log. “They’re unbearably nosy and smug,” she said. “Always poking into witches affairs, trying to get their hands on rare magic books…that they’ve got absolutely on idea how to use properly, of course, and I doubt they’d even have the ability if they tried.”
“I’ve tried,” James admitted and sat down with her. He stretched a bit, absently pulling at his soaked shirt. Lily’s cheeks flushed and she looked away quickly. “Couldn’t get past basic invisibility—it kept wavering on and off, and Dad got sick of pretending he wasn’t seeing me sneaking out of my lessons.”
He didn’t sound very bothered by his failure in magic, which Lily found secretly admirable. In the early days of her training, she’d stormed out of more than one room and lit more than one book on fire out of frustration.
“Hm,” was all she said. “Well, some people don’t have an affinity. That’s why not everyone is a witch.”
“I’d make a terrible witch,” James said cheerfully.
“Good thing you’re not one.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’ll make all that much better of a king…”
Lily blinked at him, surprised. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” she asked. “Of course you’ll make a good king.” The very idea of the opposite seemed preposterous to her—she’d only known him for a day, yet she was quite certain that he’d be a very fair, if slightly silly king. “I mean, your ministers might be a bit frustrated,” she continued, “but that’s just because most ministers are stuffed shirts. You’ll be a good king.”
James was silent, staring at her. “Well,” he said and shifted. She could see that the tips of his ears were starting to turn a bit red. “Blimey.”
Lily couldn’t stop herself from laughing a bit. “You have the oddest meter of self-confidence I’ve ever seen,” she commented, then shook her head. Her smile faded after a moment and she found herself considering something. Not that she didn’t spend a lot of her time considering things—one couldn’t be a scientifically minded witch without the practice—but this was a strangely alarming something to consider, because it required some self-reflection. And anyone with any sense or who cared to think about it for more than a second would agree that there is little in this world that is more discomfiting than self-reflection.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said.
She felt James glance over at her. “Whatever for?”
“Being…rude,” she said. “Horrid when we met. Not a good quest companion. Throwing you in a stream just now.”
James was quiet for a second, then he exhaled with something resembling humor. “You’re a good quest companion,” he said and didn’t go on. Somehow, she just knew he was waiting for her to look at him and she gave in quicker than she thought she would’ve. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and his eyes were kind. “You’re just not used to liking people you thought you wouldn’t.”
It was far too simple and far too true and Lily blinked. “That’s…” Her voice fell away and she looked down. “I don’t…not like you.” It was a mumble.
James knocked his shoulder against hers. “Oh, I know,” he said cheerfully and she could tell he was grinning without even glancing at him. “And I like you too, Lily. Even if you’re the crankiest witch I’ve ever met.”
Lily huffed a laugh. “Met a lot of witches, have you?”
James stood and stretched, arms above his head. He looked tremendously relaxed, despite the fact that he was still wet from head to toe. “You’re the first, actually,” he said.
Lily laughed again and pushed herself to her feet too. “Good thing, that,” she replied and headed past him. “They’re all dreadful academic bores.” She flicked her fingers as she walked and she heard James inhale, knowing he was feeling his clothes dry.
“Thank you,” he said when he caught up with her at the edge of the forest.
Lily bit back another smile and couldn’t resist taking another look at him. Hair sticking out in every direction, even more so with the dousing and subsequent drying, bright smile. Oh, he was almost too much to look at.
Much too much.
xii.
wicked warlock of the north
“So, who do you think kidnapped your brother?” Lily asked as they picked their way through a particularly dense patch of the forest.
James concentrated on not tripping over branches or roots as he answered. “A sniveling snake from the Slytherin court.”
“The delegate?”
James nodded. “Snape’s a little—“ But he cut himself off because Lily gasped suddenly and stopped walking.
“Did—did you say Snape?” Her voice was shaking a little and James stopped too.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Do you—know him?” He felt doubtful about it the second he said it, because the cold, quiet man he remembered from court was about as far from Lily as winter was from summer.
But then Lily nodded. She was quiet, face pale. “He’s a warlock.”
“Not a witch?” James wasn’t trying to be rude; he was genuinely confused. Also, he was trying to imagine how the two of them could know each other.
“No, a warlock,” she said and he knew she was rattled by this news because her voice was lacking her usual no-nonsense scorn. “He doesn’t do pure magic like witches. He…”
“He what?” James prompted, starting to frown. He had the sudden, absurd urge to offer her a hug—she looked a bit lost, her shoulders slightly drooping.
“He’d read books,” Lily murmured and her gaze traveled along the edges of the forest. “Bad ones. Well, not bad—that’s a generalization. No book is bad, it’s how its used that’s the issue. But…these were dangerous books. And he followed their instructions a little too well.” She looked sad for a second.
“You knew him well?” James said with surprise. He finally gave into the instinct and shifted a tiny bit closer to her. Lily did’t move away from him, at any rate, which he considered progress from this morning.
“We grew up close together,” Lily said, voice a little hollow. “We…we practiced magic together as children and—“ she took a deep breath, eyes traveling over the forest. “I saw him begin to drift into darker magics,” she said. “I didn’t stop him.”
James frowned. “That wasn’t your fa—“
“No, it was,” Lily said and finally looked at him. Her cheeks were pale. “Why do you think I help questers, James? Witches hate questers, it’s basically—basically—“
James’s voice was soft. “Punishment?”
“Yeah,” Lily said and her shoulders dropped. “Sev—Snape, I mean. We’d always experiment with spells together, because we were fascinated with how magic worked, but…he took it too far, and I didn’t see how bad it was until it was too late. He got warned a few times, by some other witches, and I thought he’d listened.” She went silent for a second, something like shame crossing her face. “He wanted my help with a spell and I thought it was fine...”
“What happened?” James prompted when she stopped talking.
“It went wrong,” Lily said bleakly. “Or right, if you’re Snape. He tried to reinvent the magic of the Forest—take it apart, twist it, so he could manipulate the power of it at will.” She snorted. “That was stupid, of course, because the Forbidden Forest is older than any of the kingdoms, and far more powerful than a sixteen year old witch. One of the older witches—she was injured.”
“Badly?” James’s heart was clenching as he tried to imagine the sequence of events, imagine Lily as a curious sixteen year old. Imagine her making a mistake. It was all so impossible to picture in this peaceful glen.
Lily’s lips pressed together. “She recovered,” she said. “She’s now a friend of mine. And Severus was banished from the Forest, of course, because once you dabble in dark magic, you’re not a witch anymore. And warlocks aren’t allowed in the Forbidden Forest. But even if I’d helped on accident, something had to be done.” She smiled weakly at James. “So now I deal with all the annoyances all the other witches don’t want to.”
“Like me?” James’s voice was slightly joking, but she didn’t smile.
“Sure,” she said. “Like you.”
She looked so dejected, and perhaps like she was even bracing herself for some kind of blow—
James stepped towards her. “Hey,” he said. “You’re the best witch I know.”
Lily’s lips twitched. “I’m the only witch,” she said.
“You only need one extraordinary thing to know its right,” James said, and he was pretty sure that line was from one of Sirius’s bodice-ripping romance books. He hastily moved on in case Lily recognized it. ”And if anyone’s to blame for all the ills in the world, it’s Snape.”
“Not the whole world,” Lily murmured, but a bit of color had returned to her cheeks. She glanced over at James. “You don’t—you’re not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?” James said, befuddled.
“Your brother was kidnapped by Snape,” Lily said. “Aren’t princes supposed to jump wildly to conclusions and we’ll get into an argument that’ll span decades?”
“We only jump wildly to conclusions on Sundays,” James said and smiled. “And luckily for you, it’s a Wednesday.”
His stupid joke achieved his hoped for result—she laughed, nose crinkling a little bit. It made her entire forehead scrunch up and her freckles were especially obvious with the motion; James loved it.
“Now come on,” James added firmly. He held out his hand and didn’t move until Lily tentatively slid hers into his. “We’ve got a slimy, backstabbing kidnapper and former friend to take down.”
xiii.
another brief interlude pertaining to romance
“Have you ever been in love?”
“I thought I was.”
“With who?”
Silence.
“Sorry, that’s an intrusive question. It’s none of my—“
“Aren’t witches meant to be intrusive?” Amused.
“Well, not strictly.”
A sigh. “He was a stablehand. A rather good-looking one, too. I liked him quite a lot, but he didn’t like the spotlight and I wasn’t about to put all that on him, so…scandal averted, probably.”
“People are stupid.”
“Oh, yes, very true. What about you?”
“No, I’ve never been in love. I’ve…never even liked someone, I don’t think. I have been proposed to an inordinate number of times, though.”
A laugh that was getting more and more familiar. “Hey, that’s something!”
xiv.
don’t sit in the meadow…alright, kissing is fine, i suppose
The meadow of white-petaled flowers was lush, sunny and beautiful. Even Lily lost her breath for a second when she and James stepped into it. The grass looked soft, the petals delicate and she felt a brief urge to sink to the ground, take a long nap.
James’s face began to look a bit vacant and he swayed.
“Snap out of it,” Lily said warningly. She actually snapped her fingers. “Don’t sit.”
“Right,” James said, clearing his throat and shaking his head. His eyes began to clear. “Uh, shouldn’t this be harder?”
“If you were on your own, probably,” Lily said. “There aren’t very many magical places that like to mess with a witch.”
“Thanks,” James said. “For coming.”
She glanced at him. “You’d have died on your own,” she said flatly. Her lips twitched. “By gnome-mauling.”
James groaned. “Don’t bring that up—“
Lily started grinning. “I’m going to bring that up forever,” she said. “It was objectively hilarious. Why in Merlin’s name you didn’t think to just draw your sword—“
James’s mouth opened, closed. He looked down at his belt, like he’d forgotten the weapon was there. “Well,” he said. “That would’ve been sensible, wouldn’t it?”
Lily burst out laughing.
James’s lips twitched though he rolled his eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point,” he muttered. “You’re very clever and far more sensible than I am.”
“Sensible, yes,” Lily said. “You’re clever, though.”
He looked thoughtful. “Am I?”
Lily nodded. “You might be the cleverest quester I’ve ever met,” she admitted, then added with a flush of her cheeks, “That’s not saying much though, because the sample is a very dim one indeed.”
James laughed. “Compliment taken,” he said and his eyes were bright. “I knew I could get you to like me, Lily.”
And then he stopped talking and he was still very close to her and his mouth was smiling and it was a very nice mouth—
Lily didn’t hold much stock with kissing. Being a witch, and living in the Forbidden Forest meant that most amorous visitors were brief and noncommittal, when she chose to invite them at all. She’d certainly never had the sort of kiss that she wouldn’t mind replicating with someone for the rest of eternity.
In fact, as a purveyor of all things sensible and no-nonsense, she very firmly believed that no such kiss existed.
James had such a nice mouth. A kissable mouth.
So she kissed him.
xv.
head doth be empty
James knew for certain that he embarrassed himself—the second Lily’s lips made contact with his, he made a truly humiliating sound of surprise that still echoed in his ears like the squawk of a stepped on chicken.
But then the rest of reality caught up with him and he ceased to care about the embarrassment. Because she was kissing him. Her body was so close he could feel its warmth, her mouth softly moving against his, gently pulling away…
That just wouldn’t do.
James made a noise of contempt and grabbed her cheeks, pulling her in for another kiss. He thought she might’ve been smiling, but—
Well, time ceased to have a lot of meaning after that.
Time must’ve still been marching on though—continuing his daily grind, getting his morning coffee and then moving onto lunch etc. etc.—because some indeterminable amount of said time later, when the flowers were still blooming and the sun was still in the sky and Lily was in his arms, his senses returned to him, along with a pressing need for air.
James slowly drew away and his entire body was still thrumming, lips still tingling.
Lily looked shocked—like she’d been hit in the head with something heavy she wasn’t expecting. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her lips were slightly parted. “Oh,” she said.
“Oh,” James echoed. His hands were still cradling her cheeks and he didn’t want to ever take them away—just keep standing here in the meadow, holding the face of a witch. Feeling the softness of her skin, the bloom of her anticipation in her blood, so close to her eyes that he could look at the bright green color without blinking.
She was looking back and she wasn’t moving away. Perhaps that should’ve been the most surprising thing about this all—that she actually liked him, when James had fallen for her within the first ten seconds of their meeting—but it wasn’t. Nothing was surprising to James at that moment, because he’d just kissed her and he found he couldn’t even think about the future except for the prospect of more kisses.
“Oh,” Lily exhaled again and her lips twitched. She reached up to her face, but not to move his hands. She just let hers rest over his, standing there contentedly. “You are such a nuisance, James, prince of Gryffindor.”
James grinned widely and couldn’t resist leaning in to give her another kiss, just a quick brush of their lips. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”
xvi.
in which things get terribly stressful
Crossing the fiery chasm was the work of three quarters of an hour on a Thursday, bribery, several exceedingly manly shrieks and yet more bribery.
“I swear if you don’t fulfill that waffle promise,” James fumed, stumbling up the rocky hill. They were coming out at the edge of the forest on the third day of their journey, though he could tell it was further north because the plants were different and there was a chill in the air. “You better give me so many waffles after you almost pushed me to my death—“
“You’re such a baby,” Lily said from behind him, but it was fondly annoyed. “And for someone who enjoys flying, you’re appallingly bad at walking across a rickety bridge over molten lava—“
James’s voice had cut off a moment before, and not out of a delayed panic attack from the fiery chasm, or out of exertion from the hill since he was quite fit and of the two, Lily was struggling more. No, he was staring at what the crest of the hill had revealed.
“Oh dear,” Lily breathed, coming to a stop next to him.
James had to agree.
There was a tower and it was black and stone and very tall and looked on the whole like the sort of place a snivelling, creepy backstabbing warlock would stash a kidnapped prince. The trees stopped around the edges of the property and James thought it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that they were giving the tower a wide berth.
“Well,” James said grimly and glanced over at Lily. The wind was blowing and her black silk robes were whipping around her. Her hair was bright fire against it. For the first time since he met her, she really looked like the witches he was told about: fearsome magical enchanters.
But then Lily exhaled and she gave him a short smile. It made her nose wrinkle just a little bit and he remembered sliding his fingers beneath her jaw, cupping her chin, her mouth against his. “I can’t imagine the tower will be unguarded,” she said and stepped forward. “No sense putting off the inevitable, yes?”
Lily was right—the tower was guarded, though the door opened on the first try which James thought rather defeated the purpose. It made up for it in some very tricky and violent traps.
“Duck!” Lily grabbed his arm and hauled him down. James threw himself flat against the stone stairs and the arrow whistled over their heads—
Silence. James cautiously lifted his head and glanced around the spiral stairway.
The sixth arrow was lodged in the wall behind them, green feather gleaming.
“Why they resort to all these crude and inelegant traps is beyond me,” Lily muttered. “It makes such a mess. One good enchantment at the door and you’re good! No—“ she kicked at the step, looking around warily for any more arrows or axes to come hurtling out. “—bloody heads to clean up on the stairs!”
“Lil, can you give the tower a constructive review of its defense system after we survive its horrors?” James asked, panting slightly. His arm was starting to ache from holding his sword aloft for so long. He took a slow, careful step forward and nothing happened. He sagged with a breath of relief. “Okay, I think it’s fine now—“
He took another step and then there was a very alarming cracking noise. James froze. “Wh—“
Lily screamed, stumbling away as the tower shook and James lunged backwards, arm wrapping around her waist as the stones beneath their feet gave way—
Wind ripped through the tower, slashing through the stairwell. James swallowed a shout of his own, then his body was torn away from the crumbling steps and flung up into the tower.
The world was very dark. James opened his eyes and immediately groaned. His head was aching something fierce and his body felt like it had been battered against a rough cliff, but he was alive.
Lily.
“Lily—“ his voice was rough, desperate and he forced himself up, the dark room spinning, slanting.
“Shh, shh, lie down.” Her voice, close. James immediately relaxed at the familiar tone, but he still couldn’t see her and— “James. Lie down, you idiot, before you hurt yourself—“
James sat up and the world spun, tilted, turned inside out. He groaned very loudly. Then someone spoke from the corner.
xvii.
to family reunions and dubious future plans
Lily’s heart hadn’t stopped racing in the last fifteen minutes. She could still feel the tower steps crumbling beneath them—one of Sev’s less menacing curses, probably—and the almost too-late flick of her fingers that saved them. Witches, thankfully, were quick on their feet. Or off of them, as the case may be.
But despite her permanent state of stress, she still had space to be startled when she saw the man lying on a pile of cushions in the corner of the room. They were in what was probably the top floor of the tower—a large round room with every window except one boarded over, and empty except for the cushions, the man, a few cockroaches and a whole lot of dust.
“You’re late,” is what the man said and James, half sitting up, swayed. He gaped and his voice came out strangled.
“You—“
“Well,” the man said and got to his feet. Lily could immediately see the family resemblance—not in the hair or eyes, which were dark and grey and far finer than James’s, but in the manner and grin—and swallowed an instinctive groan. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?”
James stared at his brother for a second, then shoved to his feet surged forward—
Lily jumped when he grabbed a pillow from the floor and flung it straight at his brother’s face. “You dick—“
“Oy! The fuck was that for—“
“I’ve been—searching—for—you—Mum and Dad worried sick—fell into a gnome nest—and—you’re—lounging—“
Sirius managed to grapple with James and get them into a somewhat stationary position. “Stop it,” he snaps. “It wasn’t all that, okay?” His face was a little pale. “I had to listen to Snivellus talk for a full week. It was like an eternally cringe monologue that never stopped.”
James stumbled back from him, then clutched his head with a groan. “Snape. Where is he?” he raged wildly. His head swiveled, taking in the clearly empty tower room. She could see him recovering his wits with every passing second and she admired his determination. “Where’s that snake—“
“James—“ Lily’s voice was exasperated, but she paused when Sirius winced.
“He’s gone,” Sirius said, which seemed a bit obvious, but James stopped as if this was stunning news. He blinked rapidly.
“He’s gone?” he demanded. “Where? When? Why?”
“No idea,” Sirius said. “He got some kind of message this morning and went all manic and bug-eyed. Had to head back towards Slytherin, and since we’re at the edge of the Forest it’s pretty easy.”
“But—“
“If your next question is how I’m going to hit you,” Lily said to James and he stopped with a faintly sheepish look on his face. She frowned, thinking of the clever, quiet boy she knew, and the obsessed teenager who left. “But you’re right, why would he just leave Sirius…surely there must’ve been a point to all of this?”
The tower was silent.
“I don’t like the insinuation that I was kidnapped for no reason,” Sirius declared, scowling, then he switched his gaze over to Lily. “By the way, who are you?”
“This is Lily,” James said, sounding a bit sheepish. His hand went to his hair. “She’s…”
“I’m a witch,” Lily said severely. “And frankly I’ve had far too much to do with princes in the last few days, so if you feel like objecting to my presence, please know I have the ability to turn you into something unpleasant.”
James muffled a snort.
“Well, alright then,” Sirius said with a blink, then he smirked. “I think we’re going to get on just fine. Now can we please go home?”
There was another moment of silence in the tower. Lily found herself uncharacteristically at a loss for word. “But…what do we do about Snape?”
James was looking out the window towards the distant edge of the Forest where Snape had likely fled, brow furrowed. He slowly turned to face her and Sirius.
A faint grin formed on his face and Lily immediately groaned, recognizing that expression from just a few days ago on her front porch.
Stupid unprincely princes and their shoulders and damn kissable mouths.
James started laughing. “So, you’re in agreement?” he said to her, grinning wider.
“I don’t have much choice but to be in agreement, don’t I?” Lily replied. Her heart was doing something odd and entirely uncharacteristic and it was entirely his fault. Entirely his fault that she wanted to kiss him again, that she wasn’t turning on her heel and heading home the moment this quest finished. Entirely his fault that she was considering going on another one.
James’s grin went a little softer, his eyes warm and lingering. “You’ve always got a choice, Lil,” he said, then leaned in. “But admit it: you like the adventure.”
“I can still turn you into a frog,” Lily said, but her threat was ruined by her smile.
James chuckled, but leaned back and looked around. “So we’re in agreement?”
“You lot are,” Sirius said and scowled. “I’ve got no idea what just happened. That wasn’t a complete conversation, in case neither of you realized.”
“Hush,” Lily said sternly and then she smiled at James. “The three of us are going on a quest.”
"Wizard-hunt?" Sirius said.
"Warlock," James corrected.
"What's the difference?"
"Quest," Lily said with exasperation. She shook her head, feeling unbearably fond of the both of them for a second, entirely in spite of herself. "It's a quest."