Chapter Text
When she saw Hogwarts castle, its turrets shrouded in the clouds of a pending corpulent storm, Lily felt years vanish beneath her feet.
Instead of the 7th-year student she was supposed to be, she was getting off the boat of Black Lake and stepping into a wonderland of magic and mystery–a world she never knew existed in her innocent youth.
“Careful Evans,” a rough voice said close to her ear. “You’re going to get stepped on.”
Lily snapped back to the present, glancing up in time to see a satisfied half-smile on the lips of Sirius Black just before he jerked his chin toward the invisible thestrals that had pulled their carriage to the front steps of the great castle.
The king and his minions, Lily thought wryly, moving to the side so the carriage could leave to pick up another load of students on the first day back to school.
James Potter, of course, would be the king–a boy who thought he owned the school–and his court of jesters. Except that James looked more man than boy now, and his group of friends had an irritating air of maturity attached to their usual jocular presence.
It was their last year at Hogwarts and suddenly they were all verging on adulthood and expected to have direction and purpose, which muted the back-to-school excitement she usually felt.
James looked over at that moment, his eyes locking on hers. The flicker of flames from the torches that lined the walkway to the stairs reflected on his round glasses. His smile was an echo of Sirius’s, slightly cocky, slightly secretive as though he knew something he was happy–delighted even–to keep hidden from her.
Secrets.
They were there, locked away, tucked perfectly behind his steady stare. Shut inside an exterior that made her step back slightly even though he was standing at least ten feet away. His shoulders, which shifted like he might be holding back laughter, had broadened over the summer. He towered over Peter, another of the court of jesters, tall and lanky, and even his facial features had said goodbye to boyhood. His jaw had become more defined, strong and sharp, a muscle jumping on one side when he lifted his eyebrows at her.
Lily reached automatically to one of the deep pockets of her robes.
“What is it this time?” James asked, venturing a step closer. “Romance novel?”
“Wh–what?” Lily automatically jerked her hand away from her pocket, her cheeks flushing.
He nodded to her robe. “The book you’re carrying around. You’re always carrying a book around.”
Butterfly wings struggled in her chest, shock and amazement warring with each other. How did he know she always carried a book around with her?
“Not a romance novel, then,” James drawled, casting a look at Remus. He shot his friend a grin. “What is it all the kids are reading these days?”
“Kids don’t read these days,” Remus said dryly, then turned his attention to the sky.
James nodded seriously. “That’s right.” Then he snapped his fingers and brightened. “It’s academic then. Something for school.”
Words clogged the back of her throat. What the hell? Had he found some spell to see what was inside her pocket? She wasn’t a fan of James Potter but she had to admit–even if grudgingly–that he was a gifted wizard.
James had the audacity to wink. “It’s admirable. Truly. They encourage all Head Girls and Head Boys to brush up on the school rules. Makes sense you’d carry the book around with you just in case.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Mine’s in my trunk.”
Her gulp was audible. Then she choked on her surprise because that, of course, was just how life went in situations like these. Instead of a nonchalant sweep of her hair over her shoulder and a bogus but convincing claim she knew all about King James Potter being in the running for Head Boy, she was coughing on shock and wondering how the hell she hadn't known.
She silently cursed her parents for taking her on holiday for the last half of the summer instead of letting her stay home to obsessively get in touch with everyone she knew to find out every person who had interviewed for Head Boy and Head Girl.
He won’t get it, she told herself without much bravado. James Potter had too many tricks up his sleeve and way too much cockiness to land him anywhere but the headmaster’s office with the promise of getting 30 points taken from Gryffindor like he had last year.
He was famous for his quick wit, and even more famous for using it unsparingly at the most inopportune times.
But somehow, all the teachers still loved him.
“Good for you,” she mumbled and immediately regretted it. A verbal sparring match with the king would probably have only one outcome, and that was total mortification.
Instead, she turned her attention to Remus, who was still staring at the sky. A few soft raindrops had begun to fall, but the storm was holding off.
“What’s up there that’s so important?” Lily asked him. Her voice came across irritated, pointed words that were meant for James but slipped out nonetheless.
Wispy clouds parted softly, allowing the moon to shine through in a sliver of washed-out gold before vanishing behind the gloom again.
“It’s almost the full moon,” Remus mumbled.
She remembered he always seemed interested in astronomy, but that wasn’t surprising. Remus was interested in everything. He was one of the smartest kids in school–smarter than her, even.
But the difference between him and James was that he didn’t flaunt it.
He would make a good Head Boy.
James clapped him on the shoulder, then tossed her an almost sheepish smile. “Remus is really into all the things that go bump in the night.”
Sirius stepped forward, with Peter hovering at his elbow, his nose scrunched like he smelled something funny. “Yeah, we think Lupin’s going to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher someday.”
As though she didn’t exist, they flanked Remus and walked in a group to the stone stairway, voices all blending together until she couldn’t tell whose was whose.
Professor McGonagall appeared at the top of the stairs. She gave the boys a look that landed halfway between curious and suspicious before turning her gaze on Lily.
“Miss Evans,” her voice came booming down the stairs. “The headmaster would like to speak to you.”
Lily’s stomach jumped with anticipation. And as the rain began to fall in earnest, she made her way up the steps and journeyed into her final year at Hogwarts.
****
She walks in beauty like the night…James winced. What was the rest? Something about starry skies and tender light?
He groaned and sat up in bed, annoyed with himself for being cliche. Quoting classic poetry because he’d seen Lily Evans standing in the partial moonlight just before a soft blanket of mist covered her auburn hair was…well, poetic.
But no, poetry was too tame for whatever it was that had hit him when he saw her. Not a pretty stanza or verse, not a song lyric or fancy monologue. No. None of that. It had been lightning, a bolt of electricity that had burned his shoes to the ground and made his knees want to give out.
And there he went being cliche again.
Wonderful. He was in his last year at Hogwarts and brimming with ideas for his future but all of that had to stop because he was being cliche. About a girl.
“What are you doing?” Sirius mumbled from his bed. They'd all finally retired for the night after an exciting first evening back at Hogwarts and most had already fallen asleep.
James was spared having to make up a lie when he heard sniffling. “It’s Myrtle. She’s been doing that all night.”
“Crying?” Peter chimed in, his voice a quiet croak. “Why is this a surprise?”
James had to give a little chuckle. One of their resident ghosts, Moaning Myrtle, did tend to cry. A lot. And it was usually worse on the first night of school, which he always found odd. He would have thought she’d be happy to see students about and it would have taken away some of the loneliness she seemed to feel at times. But instead, it appeared to set her off more. Like it made her acutely aware of just how much she wasn’t a part of this world she cursed all the time.
The sniffling got louder and James frowned. If she really got going, she’d wake everyone up.
“Make it stop,” Peter groaned.
James looked at his lumpy shadow. “Me?”
“You’re Head Boy now,” Sirius returned with amusement in his voice. “Go get ‘em.” Then he pulled the covers over his head.
James rolled his eyes at his friend but grinned in the darkness. That was right. It had happened in the blink of an eye this evening. First, he was being cliche, then he was comforting Remus, who still got a little uneasy in the days leading up to the full moon, and then he was in the headmaster’s office being congratulated.
And he hadn’t been able to concentrate on any of it because just before he’d gone in, Lily had come out. She had come out and smiled at him, a smile that held no sarcasm, no guile. It wasn’t even a grimace. It was a smile of pure surprise and pleasure.
He could only assume she’d been named Head Girl, but before he could stop and congratulate her, he’d been ushered into the room and separated from her by the solid thud of the door closing.
James pushed aside the covers and shoved his feet in slippers because the floors of the castle would chill you right to the core. He also slid into his robe because Myrtle liked to comment on his pajamas and had done so more than once.
Peter shifted in his bed and James told him in a hushed whisper, “Go back to sleep. I’ll tell her a story and she’ll stop crying soon.”
Peter mumbled something inaudible and turned on his side with a quiet sigh.
James smiled again. He had a soft spot for Peter and had ever since his first year and some kids had cornered Peter by the bathrooms and started calling him Peter Pettipuke, instead of Pettigrew, which was his actual last name. James had walked right into the circle of boys and announced loudly that the headmaster needed to see Peter right away, which was a complete lie but had gotten them both away from the pack and earned him a loyal friend.
James shuffled from the room and to the hallway, searching for the glowing blue orb of human-shaped light.
“Myrtle,” he whispered.
The sniffing sounded again and he followed the noise, down the stone staircase and around the corner, where the flicker of light gave him a soft view of the common room.
Instead of Myrtle, he found a young girl sitting on the couch in front of the fire. And next to her, hair like a waterfall of fire, was Lily.
He skidded to a stop and almost comically fell down the rest of the stairs, at the same time holding his breath and hoping they hadn’t heard him.
He wasn’t sure the exact moment when he’d stopped noticing all the annoying goody-two-shoes things he always used to think Lily did and when every single breath she took became some desperate exercise for him to not lose his mind around her, but it had happened.
First, when the tapping of her fingers on the cover of her book had gone from irritating to musical. Then when each sarcastic roll of her eyes made him, instead of clench his teeth, intensely aware of the color of her eyes. Green, by the way. But not just any green. No, there were thousands of shades of trees in them and…no, he couldn’t even get started on that.
But last year, that was when he’d realized it the most. He used to raise his hand in class every time she did because that was what he’d grown accustomed to. If she had an answer, so did he.
They were in a perpetual dance of competition.
But one day, his hand froze partway up. In that moment he’d realized that every time he answered instead of her, he didn’t get to hear the soft lilt of her voice. The hint of amusement in her words, or, depending on the teacher, condescension.
He used to be James Potter. Now he was tongue-tied-boy-melting-on-the-floor-with-a-goofy-grin-and-racing-heart. He hid it well–at least most of the time.
He felt like he’d held his own outside the school tonight, but he couldn’t lie: it would have been awesome if Remus had started his muttering-about-the-full-moon a little sooner so he hadn’t had to act like it wasn’t killing him to stand so close to her without being able to touch her.
“I understand,” Lily was telling the girl, a first-year he recognized from dinner in the great hall earlier tonight. “Everything is different. And new.”
The girl nodded. “This isn’t like my regular school.”
Lily glanced at the fire as if debating words in her head before saying them out loud. “You’re right, it’s not. It wasn’t like my old school either. It all went from normal to over-the-top. Magical and shiny but overwhelming.”
James ventured one step closer. She wouldn’t see him up here, tucked in the shadows and hanging on every word. Sometimes he forgot that Lily came from a different world. A muggle home. That before she'd turned 11, magic didn’t exist.
The girl nodded again, her sniffles subsiding.
Lily reached out and touched her shoulder. “The first night is always the hardest. Strange to be away from home. But pretty soon this will be home. And you can always send an owl to your parents with a note. Or come visit me in my room. This weekend, I’m starting game nights here in the common room, too, so everyone has someone to hang out with.”
James found himself frowning. She hadn’t mentioned that to him. But he realized it was a good idea, and something he should have thought of. It was hard for some first-years, especially those who hadn’t grown up in the wizarding world.
Lily hugged the girl and told her to get back to bed so she wouldn’t be tired tomorrow. James almost tripped over his feet to get up the stairs so he wouldn’t be seen.
Game nights in the common room, Head Boy and Girl duties together, and probably some classes together soon as well.
Fate had brought Lily closer to him, making stars align and–
Shit. There he went being cliche again. But did he really care?
Love itself was a giant cliche and James planned on embracing it. Somewhere along the way, he’d started falling for Lily and this, his last year at Hogwarts, was the perfect time to take his shot with her and live the cliche.