Work Text:
Monday
She’d been attempting to study in the head’s office, but her mind was prone to wander now and then-wasn’t everyone’s? James would be back from practice soon-he’d been out on the pitch every night, team or no, in preparation for the first game of the year against Slytherin on Saturday morning. Lying on the floor in front of the fire, the heat seeping through her jumper, Lily felt a little grin slide across her face. She knew it was stupid that she was into this, and her fourth year self would bully her relentlessly for it, but she really, really liked dating the quidditch captain.
When he’d given her his captain’s jacket after practice. She’d never admit it, but she’d imagined when they’d win and she’d run onto the pitch and he’d pick her up and spin her around in the rain, kissing the top of her head and sending heat shooting down her spine, warming her from the inside out.
She’d looked into his eyes after their first kiss, both of them full to the brim with joy, her face plastered with a grin so massive it must have been comical, and he’d been just as crazed. Every time he kissed her, or hugged her, or even just touched her in passing she felt a little bit drunk, and so unbelievably lucky.
She heard steps on the other side of the door, and then it opened into their little office, lined to the ceiling with bookshelves.
His hair was plastered to his face from the rain and his robes were drenched, but his glasses were miraculously clear-she’d begrudgingly taught him that spell in fourth year.
He grinned, tugging off his gloves with his teeth and closing the door,
“So,” he said, taking the gloves out of his mouth and running a hand through his hair, “Whatcha doin’?”
Lily rolled over onto her back and pushed up on her elbows,
“Studying,” she looked him up and down with a grin as he pulled off his wet outer robes and hung them up, walking around her to the washroom. As he was closing the door, he waggled his eyebrows at her.
She just laughed and rolled back onto her stomach, content to hit the books once again. Flitwick had assigned them ten feet on the Ascendium theory and self levitation, to be completed by the next class, or they wouldn’t be allowed to test the charm. Lily was extremely excited. She hadn’t felt a sensation like her ‘flying’ off the swings when she was younger since. Sure, there’d been broomsticks, but she’d never really felt at home on one. With that final thought, she dove into her essay, and thought of nothing but self levitation until she heard the shower turn off.
Something, a gust of wind perhaps, had pushed the door open ever so slightly. She saw a flash of tan skin in the mirror, and felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she snapped her head back down to her paper. After a second, she looked back up. He’d just pulled on gryffindor plaid pyjama pants, and was cleaning off his glasses with a towel and shoving a hand through his hair. After a minute he plopped them back on his face and grabbed a black t-shirt, pulling it over his head and opening the door the rest of the way at the same time.
She looked back down so fast whiplash hit her like a brick, and she made an odd noise somewhere between a cough and a gasp.
“Alright, Evans?” He asked, pulling the shirt all the way down.
She didn’t look up.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks. Soon her ears would be the colour of Mary’s lipstick. She felt a shadow fall over her, and his nimble fingers tucked a stray curl behind her ear, nudging her chin up.
He looked at her for a minute, perplexed, and then something dawned on him, and he smirked at her.
“You know I left the door a bit open on purpose, right?”
She balled up a piece of parchment and threw it at his head and he burst into laughter, standing up and leaving her in her puddle of humiliation. Not a moment after she felt someone lift her legs and settle under them, and she turned back to him with a glare.
“Did you have something to say?” He asked.
She rolled her eyes and grumbled something unintelligible. Two could play at this game. She reached back and pulled her hair out of its knot at her neck, shaking it out, before turning back, once again, to her books. He’d said once a week ago that her hair used to make him crazy on the few occasions she wore it down.
Let’s hope that’s still true.
She ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out a bit. He went still.
“Everything okay, James?” She asked, not turning around, flipping her hair again for good measure.
“Fine,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. She turned onto her back and sat up, legs across his lap. He put down his pencil (Muggle writing utensils had always been the fashion in their year, ever since Remus refused to use a quill in first. He’d said they were stupid and expensive and a mark of pure blood elitism, and that was the only detention he’d ever gotten, and also the only time she’d ever heard him voice any sort of frustration at a professor. He truly hated conflict, but he hated quills even more.). They looked at each other for a moment. Lily’s lips parted slightly.
He suddenly groaned, dropping his head back against the couch,
“Fuck me.” he mumbled. Lily grinned and moved to straddle him. His eyes went wide. They’d never done this before.
She delicately moved her hand to the back of his neck, wrapping her fingers in the curls there, and kissed him slowly, then pulled back. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them.
“Lils,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Yes?” she replied, unnecessarily breathless.
“Feel like doing that again?” he asked, a hint of humour in his voice.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and again, slowly, their lips met, this time slightly parted, and he took her bottom lip between his teeth. Slowly his hands were moving down her back, through her hair, until they settled on her waistband, fingers on her bare skin just beneath the hem of her shirt sending heat shooting through her.
She didn’t think it could get much better than this.
Tuesday
Stuffing a piece of toast spread with jam into her mouth, Lily set off for the library. She’d said hello to some younger students and invited them to study group on thursday, she’d pushed Sirius’s face into his porridge, and she’d ignored Snivellus’s incessant attempts to get her attention via mournful glances and following her out of the hall while conspicuously jerking his head to the right. She’d immediately gone left, even though it would mean she’d take double the time to get to the library. Best to send a clear message. Fuck off.
Ever since two nights ago, she’d been distracted, nervous, and slightly jumpy. They hadn’t even really done that much. She was sure he’d done more with his past girlfriends, truly, and it probably didn’t even mean that much to him. They’d just kissed.
A lot.
And for a very long period of time. So long, in fact, that when she’d eventually looked at the clock, two hours had passed and she still had to finish the conclusion for her essay, which was what she was off to do now. She looked at her watch, a gift from her friends for her seventeenth birthday last year-she was meeting Remus in twenty minutes. The full moon was three nights ago, so he was naturally exhausted, but he’d been eager to catch up on the Ancient Runes, and they both had study all morning.
She stopped off in the loo on her way to the library, and just as she was washing her hands she heard a group come in.
“-see Lily Evans this morning? She’s definitely getting it good, the slag.”
“For her sake I hope she doesn’t try all that clingy bullshit and scare him off.”
The door opened, and she came face to face with Helena Bagman. Her brother was a quidditch player for the Wimbourne Wasps, which made her very popular. She was a year older, and a cruel gossip.
She saw Lily and grinned,
“Hey Evans, how’s it going?”
Lily smiled,
“Alright. How about you?”
Helena looked at Dahlia, who’d come in with her.
“Not as good as you, I bet?”
Lily just laughed and dried her hands. As she left, the door swung shut behind her.
The walk to the library wasn’t long, but she had time to think.
Helena hadn’t meant it unkindly. She too would have assumed any girl dating James Potter was making like a rabbit and getting busy. For him last night probably hadn’t really been much at all-if the rumours were anything to go off, he’d been doing shit like that with girls in broom closets since fourth year.
Maybe for him kissing, and kissing like they had last night, wasn’t a big deal. Maybe that was why he didn’t initiate it very much. Maybe she was just desperately clingy.
Maybe she just really needed to hit the books and distract herself from this dizzying train of thought. She turned the corner to the library doorway, and met Remus at their back corner table. It had the perfect amount of light from a gorgeous green and red patterned stained glass window (the only one in the main library that opened!), it was next to some obscure muggle history section only NEWT muggle studies students used so they’d never run into pureblood pricks, and it was just far enough away from Madam Pince that they could get away with a decent amount of hubbub and chatter while they worked. Back in sixth year they’d eaten lunch here everyday in first term. Sometimes James or Peter would join them, and Mary, Marlene, or Dorcas would show up a couple times a week. Eventually Remus and Sirius were alright again, and he came too.
Now they sat in one of the seventh year study rooms built into the side walls. They had massive velvet plush window seats and magical bookshelves that could recall any text you wanted; muggle or magical. If you’d received any fail grades you’d be unable to enter the room, but since the majority of their group was quite academically inclined that hadn’t been an issue for them.
Remus was there before her, as usual, with his papers all sorted into piles, a jam jar full of water, and a pencil floating in front of him with the shavings disappearing in midair as he turned it with his wand and they peeled off like apple slices. Lily smiled; she’d helped him perfect that charm in fifth year.
She hung her bag on the chair and sat down.
“Morning Westley,” she said; he tore his eyes away from the pencil and it continued to turn, unaffected.
He rolled his eyes, but his mouth twisted into a wry smile.
“Alright, Anne.”
She grinned. They’d both read The Princess Bride in fifth year, and when she hadn’t known him well she’d thought him similar to westley at the beginning of the story. Obviously, she now knew him better and neither of them was in love with the other (he was, in his words, violently homosexual), but the nickname still stuck. He’d decided a while later that she needed one too, and had christened her Anne after Anne of Green Gables.
“Still want me to proof that Charms essay for you?” she asked.
He finished sharpening the pencil and nodded,
“That’d be terrific, thanks. Want me to go over your History of Magic notes?”
She nodded vehemently,
“I truly don’t know how you manage to enjoy that class.”
He just shrugged and started adding onto her notes.
The next time Lily looked up, it was past one-they’d been at it for hours, and she was starving.
It was just at that moment that Marlene draped herself across the table, winking at Lily.
“Hey babe.”
Lily rolled her eyes,
“Hot stuff. What’s up? I thought you had an aversion to libraries unless food’s involved.”
Marlene got up and flounced around to look over Remus’s shoulder at his paper. He raised his hand to high five her, not looking away from the page.
“Food is involved. Everyone’s meeting in the study room for lunch, and I’m in charge of grabbing said lunch. What d’you guys want?”
Lily grinned,
“Grilled cheese, please.”
That got Remus’s attention. He grinned sheepishly at Marlene.
“Could I have the same?”
Marlene grinned,
“And tomato soup?”
He smiled,
“You know it.”
She scribbled it down on a piece of paper and off she went on her bright red roller skates, short blonde curls bouncing.
Remus raised his eyebrows quizzically.
Lily grinned,
“Over the summer she learned what a carhop was, and now she’s an aspiring roller waitress.”
He snorted,
“Bet you a chocolate frog they get banned by the end of the month.”
She grinned,
“You’re on. I say two months.”
He made a sceptical face, and looked down at his watch.
“We’d better go now, else the good seats’ll be taken.”
They packed up their things, Remus gingerly wrapping his pencils in fabric(they were exceptionally difficult to procure at school, and they’d always get broken in the mail). Lily grabbed his water jar for him.
“Thanks Lil,” he said, but his voice was muffled from the little cloth pencil case she’d made him that he currently carried in his mouth.
She rolled her eyes, but held the door open to the study. He made a noise she interpreted as gratitude, and she immediately cut him off to get the best spot-the window seat.
Now, no one else appreciated this spot. Marlene would lounge on the corner, but generally preferred the couch, Sirius always sat on a table, and James wasn’t picky as he tended to perch or lean rather than sit, but for Lily and Remus, it was always a competition to see who would get the spot.
She’d just plopped down on said spot when Peter came bounding into the room hyperventilating like a pregnant marathon runner.
“He-Snape-Av-,” he sputtered, choking on the air, “James-Slytherins-fourth floor corridor,”
He gave one last splutter and fell to the ground in a heap.
Without sparing a second she was sprinting out the door, and it was only when Madam Pince yelled his name alongside hers did she realise Remus was right behind her.
Her head spun with wild theories on every possible scenario that could’ve happened to James. Was he hurt? Bleeding? Ill? Dead? Trapped in an endless duel?
She hastily apologised to some first years after bowling them over, then sprinted up the stairs, mentally thanking her summer hockey coach for making them sprint up and down the stands every morning. She could hear Remus wheezing behind her, but she didn’t stop.
As she rounded the corner by a painting of Ulfric the awful, she heard shouting, and a bang. She turned one last corner round to the fourth floor corridor, and-
Saw James sporting a viciously bloody nose and the tail of someone's cloak whisking round the far corner.
“Christ, James,” she wheezed as Remus ran round the corner, taking in the sight for himself. Thank god he was okay.
“Bloody fuck,” He managed, collapsing against the wall.
James grimaced and wiped the blood off his face with his hand, twitching his crooked nose and squinting in pain.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “that’s broken.”
Lily ran to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Who cared if he bled all over her hair? It needed a wash anyways. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she inhaled his usual scent of broom polish and rain and something earthy. This time it was edged with the iron tang of his blood.
She leaned away after a moment, pulling out her wand and tapping it against the side of his nose.
“Episkey,” she said. He didn’t flinch, and with a strange cracking sound his nose straightened. He smiled at her, hazel eyes bright behind his spectacles.
“Thank you, Lily.” he said, arms still round her. She wanted to record the way he said her name and play it until language left her and it was all she could understand.
She felt her lips twist up.
“You’re welcome, James.”
He pulled her in close again. After a moment, Remus alongside them, they set off for lunch. All along the way, she kept thinking how lucky they were that it was just a bloody nose. The injuries had been stacking up within Hogwarts, and the death toll outside had become uncountable. The war had always touched the castle in small ways, but it was becoming impossible not to see, not to feel, and not to feel as though something were coming to a close, and that someday soon, someone in the castle would die, and it would take something irreplaceable from all of them. Childhood, innocence, she didn't know what. All she knew was that she was lucky today was not that day.
Wednesday
By Wednesday morning, the rumours surrounding the head boy's fight with the Slytherins had gone from mumbles to all out roars. More than once while she’d been with him, first years had come up and asked him if he’d really killed a man. Both times they’d been sent away rather disappointed.
The firelight danced across his glasses, and his eyes shone with mirth as he looked down where she lay with her head in his lap.
Sirius sat down next to her and said, hair hanging in a curtain over her face,
“Y’know if you weren’t here, I definitely would have let that kid go away thinking I’m being carted off to Azkaban tomorrow?”
Lily rolled her eyes,
“What can I say, I’m a positive influence.”
He scoffed,
“Swotty influence, more like. Remus here manages to reign it in enough to have a good time, can’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Something smells.”
The air was full of a scent like burned plastic. Sirius sniffed it, then reached up a hand to run through his hair-
And came away empty handed. He was now completely bald, and James was laughing up a storm. Lily just smiled sweetly.
Swot my arse.
“She’s gotcha there mate,” came Peter’s voice from across the room, and then someone might’ve said something, but she didn’t catch it. She was looking out the window, watching the raindrops hit the panes of glass behind two first years who’d been on a knitting kick for the past few weeks. James’s fingers had been absent mindedly playing with her hair for the past half hour while they’d all been laying about the common room couches, and she found she rather liked it. She turned her head to look up at him and their eyes met. The moment settled over them like one of those perfect summer quilts. His eyes crinkled. Lily had an idea.
“James ,” she whispered.
He raised his eyebrows and looked side to side like the wanker he was, then leaned in.
“ What?” he whispered back. She sat up and leaned in right close to his ear.
“ I think we’d better go work on prefect schedules.”
He frowned confusedly, but when she got up and held out her hand he took it and let her pull him up.
In response to Mary’s raised brows on the way out (the others were distracted with a game of exploding snap), she just mumbled something about prefect duties.
“Hadn’t we finished schedules last weekend? Not that we shouldn’t be prepared for march, but I sort of thought we’d done it all ahea-” she cut him off with a kiss, chaste and quick. They were still in the hallway, after all.
“Oh.” he muttered dazedly.
She stood on her tiptoes and leaned into him, whispering in his ear,
“I just didn’t want to do that in front of them.”
She heard him exhale, but he did nothing, just stared straight forwards. She felt red hot shame creep up her neck, and she pulled away.
“If you don’t want to kiss me, then it-”
She was cut off when suddenly his lips were on hers and his hands were in her hair and on her waist, and she was on fire-
And then it went out, and he was tugging her along and they were running along the corridor and up the stairs to the head’s office.
Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and she ran smack into the back of him.
“I-James, what-”
He squeezed her hand as she came out from behind him and met eyes with Argus Filch, everyone’s favourite man, and his evil little cat, Ms. Norris.
“Just head prefect duties, sir.”
Lily smiled forcefully right along with him and nodded. Filch sniffed his dust covered nose and mumbled something about hating ‘that Potter boy’.
The second he was out of earshot Lily started to giggle, when suddenly James began running again, pulling her along with him. They got to the head’s office, and he pulled her in front of him so she was against the door, one hand on her waist holding her there while he kissed her hard and his lips soft and tugging and one of her hands was tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.
The door opened behind her and she would have fallen if they weren’t so wrapped up in each other. He kicked the door shut behind them, and she heard the lock click. Her hand dragged down, ending up flat against the muscled planes of his abdomen. Her back hit a wall-she didn’t know which one, and they were a mess of tongue and teeth and he nipped at her bottom lip and. She felt herself moan a little, and he pulled away slightly.
Fuck, that’s embarrasing. All he did was kiss you and you’re moaning like a banshee? She was right. You’re going to scare him off.
His face split into a grin, and his hands never left her waist and her hand never left his hair and now he was kissing her jawline, settling right at the base of her neck, and she felt a twinge of pain that was just so sweet and then his tongue and mouth were there and she arched away from the wall and sighed something breathy.
She felt the groan of pleasure that came out of him echo through her body, in the deepest hollows and the most narrow nerves. She was surely blushing the same shade of scarlet as her tie, which hung loose around her neck.
James kissed the same path back up to her mouth, placing one more on her lips before pulling away.
“I love it when you do that,” he said breathlessly, eyes dark.
“Do-do what?” she asked, attempting to slow her breathing in an effort to calm down her racing heart.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear roughly,
“If those sounds you make could be bottled, I’d be an alcoholic.”
She pulled away, breathing hard, and sat on the edge of the sofa, head in her hands.
“Lily?” it was tentative, and delicate, and a little bit… scared?
She looked over at him, now sitting on the other side of the sofa.
“Sorry,” she muttered, “I know I look like a wreck.”
He laughed. She looked him up and down, affronted.
Did he seriously just laugh?
When she didn't say anything, he studied her for a second, arms crossed.
“Lily,” he wet his lips with his tongue, “You do know I’m the reason for that, don’t you?”
She glowered, and he smiled quizzically. When she still said nothing, his expression shifted to one of concern.
“Lils,” he asked earnestly, “What’s wrong?”
She looked down. Was he really going to make her say it?
“I’m trying to apologise here for being so bloody desperate and randy, and you’re laughing at me.”
“Lily,” he said slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear, “I can assure you I’m equally fucking randy.”
She frowned.
“Lily I’ve asked you out over 200 times, and you’re worried about seeming desperate?”
She felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly and turned to look at him. His hair was messier than usual, eyes dark as night, lips bruised pink. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone… when had she done that?
She sighed,
“It’s just you’ve done so much more than me and I don’t want to scare you off, I-I remember when Sirius and you would always complain about those clingy girls that wanted to be kissed and talked to and reassured all the time?”
He rolled his eyes,
“That was all Sirius, and I love him, but he’s a fucking wanker.”
Her mouth split into a smile, and he smiled right back at her, pulling her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. James Potter was the greatest hugger who ever lived.
“Besides,” he mumbled against her hair, “ You should be kissed, and often.”
She looked up at him, and he kissed her delicately,
“-and by someone who knows how.” he added with an exaggerated eyebrow movement that made her roll her eyes.
“You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it.” he noted. She sighed.
His grin was shit eating.
Friday
Thursday had passed uneventfully. James had spent the entire evening running through drills and then gone straight to bed-the night before games he went to sleep at ten, an unfortunate ritual that had started when he’d accidentally gone to bed early and then won his first match. He joked along with the rest of them about bullshit divination, and yet she’d never met someone more superstitious.
In any case, she’d spent last night with Remus tutoring younger students, and then collapsed in bed after doing her own studying until midnight. She’d been woken up earlier than normal by Mary’s record player that Marlene had ‘accidentally’ charmed to play Good morning, Good morning off Sgt. Peppers at 7 am before every quidditch match. She claimed it was all for the fans, the fans being the four other girls who’d gone to watch every single one with her since first year, and eventually gone to watch her.
Marlene and Frank Longbottom were beaters, Sirius was Keeper, James, Charles Macavoy, and Dana Spinnet were the chasers, and a tiny little third year named Sam Wood was seeker.
She went down with Marlene for breakfast bright and early in the hopes of seeing James, but he’d somehow already eaten and was apparently down on the pitch. Charles was following his instructions and randomly coming along and adding large portions of sausage and egg to the teams plates and intermittently filling their water glasses.
Peter groaned,
“I used to think you all were just being arseholes when you’d get mad at me for doing that, but now I get it. No offence, Charlie”
Macavoy sighed,
“None taken, you know as well as I do how convincing Potter is. More sausage, Mckinnon?”
Marlene threw a slice of toast at his head. She was, in her own words, a bit of a bitch before matches. And also in the morning. Just generally, she was a bit of a bitch. Fucking legend.
Not soon enough were they trekking down to the pitch in hordes of gold and red. Lily had her scarf wrapped round her neck, big gold hoops in, and she was wearing a red sweater beneath James’s captain's coat. All in all, she was oozing house spirit.
Remus and Peter, having gone down earlier with Sirius, had saved them seats in the front row.
“Nice sweater, Lily.” Remus said when he saw her. She’d bought it with him last summer at a tiny charity shop in London. She grinned,
“Thanks.”
Mary sat between her and Peter, and Dorcas sat criss cross on Remus’s other side.
The November air bit her cheeks and whipped at her hair, and she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck.
Once the stands were full, the players filed out onto the pitch, James front and centre.
Mary nudged her, “Shit, look-Aubrey’s little brother’s commentating.”
Remus scoffed, “This’ll be interesting.”
Lily grimaced. Micheal Aubrey’s older brother hated James, ever since he and Sirius had left him hanging by his ankle with a black eye in fifth year. It was one of the few times they’d ever done that where she felt it was completely justified.
Riding high after scoring the winning point against Hufflepuff, at the party later, Bertram Aubrey’d decided to get a bit handsy with Mary. She’d pushed him away and told him to fuck off, and the next day he’d loudly called her a slag during lunch. He’d lost his team, his status, and his friends, all over the course of two days. He’d been in their year but had transferred to Durmstrang before sixth. His brother was a year younger than them, and for all his years here he’d kept to himself. He was a Ravenclaw.
“Slytherins got a nice starting lineup, only returning player being the captain himself, but will it be enough to knock Gryffindor off their four year win streak? Oi, that’s a bit of tension there with the Captain’s handshake. We all know Snape’s a greasy git, but has it spread to the rest of the house?”
Lily saw McGonagall threaten to take over. The captains let go of each others hands, and Sirius shouted at the podium,
“AS AN INSIDER SOURCE, I CAN CONFIRM.”
Micheal gave him a thumbs up,
“That’s Sirius Black, thanks for the info, mate.”
Mme. Hooch shouted “POSITIONS.”
Sirius hopped on his broom and flew to the goal posts, two middle fingers up at the Slytherin stands across the way. Lily couldn’t help but look over at Regulus, the Slytherin seeker. His expression was unreadable.
The players were up in the air, and the snitch and bludgers had been released. With a blow of her whistle, Mme. Hooch launched the quaffle, and they were off.
Slytherin took first possession.
“That’s Marcia Flint’ on the move, quaffle in hand! OH-oh wow, dodges a NICE bludger from McKinnon! Really did NOT expect that level of skill from the Slytherins this year after how lousy they played in the last couple games-Right, sorry Professor McGonagall-DON’T WE ALL JUST LOVE THOSE SNAKES?”
A rousing cheer went up from the Slytherin stands.
“Amycus Carrow receives from Flint, taking it up left-WOAH-feints right-dodges black-is that a spin? Alright, Swan Lake-AND SHE SCORES. 1-0 FOR SLYTHERIN.”
The Slytherin’s roar was deafening.
“ALRIGHT, COME ON GRYFFINDOR, WE’RE STILL IN IT-Sorry Professor-JAMES POTTER’S IN POSSESSION AND-Blessed on the broom as he is, he really does have the poorest eyesight. Hit straight on with a bludger from Kieran Wick. COME ON JAMES, SHAKE IT OFF!”
James made a show of shaking his hair out like a dog. Lily laughed, but secretly was rather relieved. She’d been worried for a second there.
“AND FLINT IS OFF WITH THE QUAFFLE, ONCE AGAIN. COME ON GRYFFINDOR, COME ON!!!”
Mcgonagall said nothing. She was rooting just as hard as the rest of them.
“AND WITH A FANTASTIC BLUDGER BY MCKINNON, FLINT IS KNOCKED OFF COURSE, AND SHE DROPS THE BALL-RIGHT INTO THE OPEN ARMS OF JAMES POTTER!”
It was then that Lily stopped hearing Aubrey. All she could see was James racing through the air like a speeding bullet, faster than she thought possible. The gods must have made some allowances for this man , she thought.
He feinted a pass and knocked it in the centre hoop, and the grin on his face was legendary. She knew they were surrounded by people at the same time as she felt it was just for her, something unique and intimate to be tucked away into the softest petals of her heart.
“10 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, GOOD LAD JAMES. SLYTHERINS BACK WITH THE BALL-WICK, THAT’S YOUR TEAMMATE! GRYFFINDOR TAKE POSSESSION!”
The game went on like that for hours. Goals were common but relatively even, and sightings of the snitch were nil. At one point it started pouring, but no one cared. This was the most competitive and interesting match they’d had for ages. James scored some particularly impressive ones on Avery, the Slytherin Keeper, and Marlene’s bludgers hit truer than north. Sirius seemed a bit off, but what did Lily know? She hadn’t even grasped the basics until fifth year, the beginning of their unbeatable winning streak. Slytherin were unfortunately very good as well, and for a while in the middle it truly looked as though they had it in the bag.
This year, though it had started unusually, was no exception. James scored his final goal by kicking the quaffle in, hanging from his broom after dodging a well aimed bludger.
The snitch was caught by tiny Sam for Gryffindor during the seventh hour of play, and the game ended 380-120.
The second the whistle blew Lily was running down along with the rest of the red and gold horde to the pitch, down to the grass wet from dew. James’s feet had barely touched earth before she was whisked into his arms and through the air.
He was laughing like a man who’d cheated death, and his eyes were sparkling with it, and he was soaked. Months later she’d wish they could have stayed in that perfect, shining moment forever. Years later she knew how lucky she was to have gotten to live it the one time.
At the afterparty, Sirius got drunk and made out with Remus in a corner after threatening to hex any homophobic twots. Marlene danced like a drunk driver walking the line to avoid impoundment. Mary made out with twelve people, and Peter won 200 quid in a massive exploding snap tournament. Micheal Aubrey finally found some mates. Snape was nowhere to be seen.
Lily and James didn’t find out about any of it, because they spent the entire evening by themselves up on the astronomy tower, watching the sunset. And hours later, watching it rise.
She told him why she'd always worn muggle shoes and read muggle books, even after coming to Hogwarts-why she'd braid her hair every morning before school. Why her favourite colour was the green of the ocean she'd seen once as a child, and how she'd always wanted to go back. He told her about what really happened that tuesday with the Slytherins, why his favourite food was his fathers lasagna, and why he loved quidditch, but most of all flying.
The whole time, she couldn’t help but feel so incredibly lucky. Not just for the game, but for everything. She was so lucky , not only to be alive at all, but to be alive with these people. To feel, and love and be loved, and to experience everything she could, but mostly just to live. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the simple pleasures of life, and of the luck that came with every breath, tucked into the knowledge that it could be your last. Human mortality had given them that gift, the gift of luck, and she knew that night, or morning, or somewhere in between the sweet hours of dusk and dawn, that luck had touched her personally, and wedded itself between the very fibres of her being. There was no other explanation for how she would get to spend her whole life with the beautiful, wonderful man who lay asleep on her lap.