Archive of Our Own

Lily Evans has stopped counting how many times she should have died.

It’s easier that way. Less terrifying. Thinking back on her brushes with death just makes things a thousand times worse, and unfortunately for her, this place brings back far too many of those memories.

She’d come here often in the beginning, when she didn’t really know where else to go after she’d had to run away from school. She couldn’t go home, obviously. There wasn’t a home to go back to. No family to occupy it. 

Her throat tightens as she waits in between two buildings. 

She had a family, once. A mother who smelled of lavender soap and baked fresh bread every Saturday. A father who hummed along to the wireless and let his daughters stand on his toes as they danced along to the music. A sister who was highly annoyed by Lily and her school, but who had once braided daisies into her hair. And in a matter of hours it was all taken from her. 

She shakes her head as she walks, trying to clear her mind of the memories of that horrible day all those years ago. 

Live in the moment, Phillip Evans had always told her, and Lily has lived by that phrase ever since he had died three years ago. And yeah, she’s fairly sure that he didn’t mean it in the way Lily means it now, but it’s helped her remain on her feet these last three years. Nothing helpful comes from dwelling on her past unless she’s remembering old thieving techniques she’d like to use again, so she tries not to think of it altogether. 

She grits her teeth and shoves away the memories. Slips out of the shadows. 

The streets of Knockturn Alley reek of damp wood, rotted over years and years and years, and there’s an air of desperation that permeates everything around them. It’s a living thing that slithers and grows between the narrow alleyways and into the shops, curling into the corners where the light doesn’t reach. It’s usually like this here, nearly hopeless, more so than it is in Muggle-centric areas, though things aren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows over there either. 

Fortunately for Lily now, she blends right into the sea of people crowding the dismal alley. Her cloak is frayed at the edges, her boots worn thin, and she’s certain that her lightless eyes and her hollow cheeks match everyone else’s. Her wand is in the lining of her cloak. Close enough to access, but hidden away so that no one is suspicious. It’s honestly a miracle she’s managed to keep it all these years, actually, considering the number of times she’s nearly been caught, killed, or captured by the Ministry. And by extension, the Death Eaters. 

Everywhere is crawling with them. Both in the muggle and wizarding world. A side effect, Lily thinks as she ducks out of the way of a moving cart, of the fall of the Ministry and Hogwarts years ago. 

It had started small at first, the collapse. Lily remembers the quiet way it crept into her life during her time at Hogwarts. It was always there, like a shadow growing little by little each day. School, thankfully, was fairly safe for her, but that only lasted a few months into her seventh year, when the gradual decay resulted in a violent coup at the Ministry, and Hogwarts followed soon after. 

The desperation she sees now as she slips in and around Knockturn Alley is what followed. A world where the wrong bloodline gets you killed. A world where everyone–Muggleborns, blood traitors, even purebloods–learned to keep their heads down, to survive in the margins.

She bites back a swear as someone shoves her aside, knowing that drawing attention to herself is the last thing she wants or needs right now. Drawing attention here is essentially a death sentence. Usually she tries to stay in muggle London, purely because stealing in the wizarding world is far more dangerous for her. In the muggle world, she’s just another girl in secondhand clothes, slipping through markets and back alleys, stealing what she needs and vanishing before anyone can catch her. There’s a freedom, an odd sense of protection that the wizarding world doesn’t offer anymore. No Snatchers, no wanted posters, no whispered names behind cupped hands.

But there are things Muggle London can’t provide for Lily. Potion ingredients. Wizarding money. Spare wands in case she, at some point, loses hers. And of course: information. It’s why she’s here today. She doesn’t plan on stealing anything this time around. She has enough supplies in the small attic of the abandoned building she’s been hiding in for the last year, the closest thing to a home that she’s had in years. She has a couple of tins of soup, a stash of blankets to fight off the winter chill, and a handful of coins and notes that she’s been saving for an emergency.

No, today is for information.

Lily slips farther into the shadows of Knockturn Alley, her eyes darting to the clusters of witches and wizards gathered in tight circles. It’s always been like this here, small groups of people exchanging hushed words, selling stolen goods, passing secrets they think no one else is listening to.

And Lily is very, very good at listening.

She can’t, however, help herself from slipping her hand into a few pockets or a shopping bag here and there. She’s nearly crossed the entire alley when she finally catches something worthwhile. 

“–I’m telling you, it’s true,” a witch says, her tone sharp with conviction. “Hogsmeade. Last night. There were at least ten of them.”

Lily stops in her tracks, cloak swishing in front of her, and turns her head. A group of witches and wizards are standing in a close group by a rickety old stall, selling some sort of magical trinkets. She moves towards them and pretends to examine the variety of amulets and chains. The group eyes her before going back to their conversation, their voices hushed. Lily has to strain even more to listen.

“Five?” one of the wizards scoffs. “Don’t be daft, Lizzy. A few idiots doesn’t make it a rebellion .”

“They burned the whole bloody place down!” the witch, evidently named Lizzy, snaps back. “And they didn’t even try to run afterward. They stayed and fought until–well, until the Death Eaters showed up.”

Lily resists the urge to scoff, because the idea that anyone has stood up to the Death Eaters is absolutely absurd, on the highest levels. One of the wizards apparently shares her sentiments, because he lets out a humorless laugh. 

“Yeah,” he says, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “And they got themselves killed for it.”

A pit forms in Lily’s stomach, and she chances a glance at the group. Before she can stop herself, she steps closer. “What happened in Hogsmeade?” she asks quietly.

The three turn to her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She keeps her hood low, hands loose at her sides, trying to look like just another desperate soul seeking scraps of information.

“Why do you care?” the first man asks, his tone flat.

Lily shrugs. “Word travels slowly where I’m from. Just trying to keep up.”

The witch–Lizzy, Lily remembers–looks her over, her gaze lingering on the frayed edges of Lily’s cloak. Eventually, she sighs, apparently deciding to trust her. “They say a group of former Aurors hit the little Ministry security branch in Hogsmeade last night. Blew out the front windows, set fire to half the building. When the Death Eaters came, they fought back. Took three of them down before–well, before they were overrun.”

“They’re all dead now,” the second man says bluntly, and Lizzy winces at his tone. “That’s what happens to fools who think they can fight.”

The witch shoots him a glare but doesn’t argue. “Point is, people are talking. Saying there’s more of them out there, planning more attacks. Reckon they’re not gonna last long, but…” She trails off with a shrug. Lily’s mouth feels dry, but she forces herself to speak.  

“Who’s leading them?” she asks, keeping her tone casual.

The witch frowns. “No one knows. Could just be kids acting out, trying to make a point. Could’ve been desperation. Either way, they’ve got the Ministry on edge.” 

“Which’ll only make things worse for the rest of us,” the second man says, and Lily can’t help but agree with him. He looks at Lily then, eyes narrowing. “Who’re you, anyway?” 

“I’m Jane,” Lily says automatically. It’s her middle name, and the one she’s gone by for years now. The wizard’s gaze lingers on her for a moment too long, and Lily takes it as her cue to start leaving. Still, she fights the urge to tense, keeping her body language neutral, almost bored. 

“You don’t seem like the type to be hanging around Knockturn,” he says slowly, suspicion creeping into his voice.

It’s a lie. Lily looks just as haggard as the rest of them, but it’s his way of probing, asking questions Lily doesn’t want to answer. So she forces a crooked smile, one she hopes conveys just the right amount of cynicism. 

“And you don’t seem like the type to stick your neck out for strangers,” she counters. “So maybe we’ll keep it that way.”

With that, she spins on her heel and disappears into the crowd, feeling the weight of so many people pressing into her as she moves. She feels a strange sense of foreboding, inhaling the mildew scented air. She feels as if people are watching her, purely because of what she’s just heard. Though she knows that technically it’s a bit of a baseless fear. Nevertheless, she makes her way toward the edges of Knockturn Alley, ready to get back to her attic. 

Her mind races as she weaves through the crowds. A rebellion? It doesn’t make sense. No one fights back anymore, not since the Death Eaters took over. Most people are too scared, too beaten down. And those who aren’t? Well. 

They’re usually dead.

No one fights back anymore. No one can . Not when the Ministry is just an arm of Voldemort’s regime, every wand turned inward to control and crush dissent. Not when the world has become this bleak, suffocating thing, where survival means keeping your head down and staying invisible.

She knows this. She’s lived this.

Lily turns down a side street, pulling her hood lower over her face as she avoids a cluster of witches examining a stall of cursed trinkets. Her hand brushes against the hidden pocket in her cloak, where her wand is tucked safely away. She’s half-tempted to pull it out of her, but she knows better. Any sign of magic here could get people’s attention, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. Or ever. 

She presses her hand against her cloak, her fingers brushing over the crumpled Daily Prophet clipping that she’d picked up earlier. She’ll pore over it later, scouring it for details and trying to piece together whether or not this is just another doomed attempt by a few reckless souls who thought they could make a difference.

Her fingers twitch, the old itch to do something bubbling up again, no matter how much she tries to suppress it. She can’t afford that kind of thinking. Recklessness has never gotten her anywhere but into trouble and brushes with death. But she also knows that if she keeps it in, it’ll burst out some other way. 

She leans against the damp brick wall of a nearby shop, her stomach twisting as she thinks about her options. She has enough supplies to last her another week, maybe two if she stretches it. She could go back to her attic and wait, hunker down until the whispers of rebellion die out entirely.

Or she could do one more job.

She’s already spent too much time here, and if she keeps pushing her luck, someone’s going to notice her. She glances around the still fairly crowded streets, weighing the risk. Lily exhales, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes in frustration. She shouldn’t, she knows. It’s risky, likely a poor decision. But her stash of coins isn’t going to last forever. And if she’s being honest with herself, she could use a distraction from the thoughts clawing at her mind.

Fine then. 

She pushes herself away from the wall and looks around, cases the area, and luckily for her, it doesn’t take long to find her mark. A wizard standing at a stall that sells rare potion ingredients, his back turned to her as he haggles with the shopkeeper. His robes are well-tailored, a deep navy blue trimmed with gold, and his stance screams confidence. He’s well-fed, too, his broad shoulders an immediate contrast to the gaunt, hollow-cheeked people surrounding him. He sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s a pureblood, obviously, and wealthy at that.

Perfect. 

She watches him as he retreats from the vendor, slipping whatever he’s just bought into a pocket. He starts down the alley, hurrying, and Lily takes off after him. Her steps are quick but measured, and she slips through the crowds effortlessly. This isn’t her first time shadowing someone, and she knows better than to rush it. The trick is to wait. 

She gets closer and closer to him, waiting until he’s turned down a relatively abandoned side street, and when she has the chance, sets her plan into motion. She takes a step to the side, angles her body toward him, and moves. Her shoulder collides with his, the impact hard enough to jolt them both. 

The man lets out a startled yelp, and whirls. The movement is enough to cover Lily’s forced stumble, and Lily’s hand is already dipping into his pocket and out as he reaches out to steady himself and her. He grasps her arms, and Lily manages to slip the few coins into her pocket. 

“Oh, Merlin,” she says, feigning an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry about that, I’ve been–” But she stops abruptly. 

Because she’s just looked up, and she’s staring into the face of James Potter. 

He blinks several times, and Lily can tell he’s trying to work out what he’s seeing. Who he’s seeing. Then, whatever has been keeping him from registering the sight in front of him falls, because he manages to speak. 

“Lily?” 

Her heart positively plummets.

No, she wants to say, and the word keeps repeating over and over and over in her head, as if it will make it real, that she isn’t Lily Evans. But she can’t find the words, her own shock at seeing James Potter taking away her voice. 

He looks so achingly familiar. His hair is still as unruly as she remembers, though shorter now, curling slightly at the edges. His face is sharper, leaner, but it’s still him. The same James Potter, right down to the stupidly expressive hazel eyes that lock onto hers. They’re wide with surprise, horror, relief, joy, and dozens of other emotions Lily can’t name. His face is pale, he looks like he's seen a ghost, and to him, Lily supposes he has. Because to everyone else but her, Lily Evans is dead. Has been for three years.

“You’re alive?” he asks, disbelief coating his raspy, broken voice. 

Lily pulls away from him, taking several steps backwards and shaking her head. “No,” she says, “you must have the wrong person–” but it does no good, because he’s properly seen her now.

“Lily,” he says her name again, and she can feel emotion welling in her throat, threatening to overflow. She swallows hard, forcing the emotion back down, locking it away somewhere deep inside herself. She can’t let it out. Not here. Not now. Probably not ever, and she shakes her head more quickly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies, her voice carrying false sharpness, her body tense as she takes another step back. “I’m not Lily.”

“Don’t,” James says, his voice trembling with something she can’t name. “Don’t lie to me. It’s you. I know it’s you.”

“It isn’t.” Lily wants to run, to disappear, to slip back into the crowds of people, away from him.

“It is you,” James says again, his voice filled with wonder and anger and something else entirely. “Merlin, Lily, I– I thought you were dead . For years, I thought– I saw–” His voice breaks, and he drags a hand through his shorter, still-messy hair. “What happened to you? Where have you been ?”

He takes a step nearer, and Lily whips out her wand, pointing it at him. 

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll hex you into the next decade if I have to.” A pained expression crosses over his face. 

“Lily, I swear it’s me, I promise–”

“Prove it, then,” Lily snaps. Because she can’t be sure, can never be sure without asking, having been burned one too many times. She swallows, trying and failing to hide the tremor in her voice. “What did you give me the last time I saw you? You said that I needed it more than you did.”

James opens and closes his mouth, and something shifts in his eyes. “I gave you my invisibility cloak,” he says. 

It’s him, then. 

James Potter is standing in front of her. Real. Alive. 

The only thing she can manage to say as she lowers her wand is his name. 

“James.” Her voice breaks, and apparently her saying his name has finally cleared his mind, spurred him into action, because in less than two strides he’s right in front of her, enveloping her in his arms. The air rushes out of her lungs as he pulls her into his chest, his grip firm and desperate, as though he’s afraid she’ll slip away again. His arms wrap around her tightly, and for a moment, she can’t move, can’t breathe, too stunned by the sheer force of him—of this .

“Lily,” he breathes into her hair, his voice cracking. “You’re alive. You’re alive .”

She can’t help it, she embraces him back. Holds him just as tightly, and she’s never been so relieved, so happy to see anyone in her entire life. She knows she ought to run, still. Knows that she’s in danger here, but she doesn’t care. She can feel her eyes begin to well up, and James pulls back just a little. 

And now he’s staring at her, touching her, and it’s been so long, so long since someone has said her name, since someone has touched her other than to shove her aside. And he’s holding her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers, and suddenly Lily’s whole plan has unraveled in the space of a single second.

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice raspy. “All this time–”

A sound escapes Lily’s throat at the tone in his voice, and she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she begins, but James shakes his head.

“It matters to me,” he says, pulling away just a little to be able to look into her eyes.

Lily shakes her head again, more forcefully this time, but her body betrays her, leaning into his touch as if she’s trying to memorize it. “You don’t understand. James, I–”

“Then make me understand,” he says, his voice breaking.

Lily looks around, heart beating rather quickly, and suddenly the street seems like it’s pressing in on her. She shakes her head. “Not here,” she says quickly, and a look crosses over James’ face. He’s thinking, she realizes, and eventually he must come to some conclusion, because his expression hardens, and he glances around them.

“Come with me,” he says quietly, and slips his hand into hers. She finds herself following him, and wherever they’re going, it must be a secret, because James keeps looking over his shoulder, eyes darting this way and that. 

Several minutes pass before James comes to a stop in a clearing surrounded by various buildings. He takes out his wand, murmuring an incantation, and he turns to her. 

“Safehouse number four is located at number 3580 Knockturn alley.” James' voice is low enough that Lily has to move closer to him in order to hear what he's saying. She frowns.

“Safehouse?” Lily repeats, but before she can say anything else, a tiny little cottage blooms out of absolutely nowhere. Her mouth falls open as the building materializes in front of them. It’s old–looking, with a rickety door held up by old rusty hinges. It looks very worn, with vines and moss covering almost every inch of the stone structure. 

“Fidelius Charm,” James explains, smiling a little at the look of wonder on her face. “I'm the secret keeper for this one. Come on.” All this time, he hasn't let go of her hand, and as they push the door open and step inside, she's a little disappointed when he lets go of her. He turns to the door and murmurs a few more spells before making his way further into the cottage. 

“I've got food,” he says as they enter a dual kitchen and dining room. It's small, but cozy. Mismatched chairs, an old rickety dining table, and a vase of long dead flowers in the center of the countertop. “I mean,” James continues as he rummages through the cupboard, “I don't really know your living situation right now, but you'll forgive me for saying you look like you need it.” 

Lily rolls her eyes as she sits at the table. “You don't need to–”

“Not taking no for an answer, Lil,” he says, and soon a plate of bread, butter, and jam are sitting in front of her. James sits down across from her and looks at her expectantly. “Do you think I'm joking?” Look, he says, “I know you're stubborn as hell, but when you resort to thieving, it can only really mean one thing.” 

Lily doesn't know how he knows she's resorted to a life of crime, and she glares at him. “Maybe,” she says, “I've resorted to thieving because the Death Eaters would love to have my head on a platter. How do you even know I was trying to steal from you?” 

He lets out a laugh. “Because I knew you were following me. I didn't know it was you, obviously, but I knew I was being tailed. Then you bumped into me, and I've done enough pickpocketing to know what move that was.” His smile falters a little. “I just never expected…that the person trying to steal from me was you.”

Lily looks at him, really looks at him, and she sighs, knowing he's telling the truth. 

“Will you please eat?” he asks. “You'll feel better. I promise.” 

She huffs. “Fine.” Reluctantly she cuts a slice of bread and absolutely smothers it with jam. Her mother used to tease her about the copious amount of jam she would put on her bread as a child, but she maintained that bread was best with a load of fruit filled spreads. This particular one is strawberry jam, she realizes, and a wave of homesickness hits her. It's the kind her mother used to make. She's grateful though, once she bites into it. It's the sweetest thing she's eaten in months, and she hasn't realized how hungry she is until just now. 

She practically devours half of the loaf of bread, eating her fill for the first time in a long time. She only feels a little bad about it. But the guilt turns into annoyance at the self-righteous smirk on James' face. 

“Shut up,” she says. James lifts his hands in mock surrender. He's smiling wider now. 

“I didn't say anything Evans,” he laughs lightly. Lily ignores him. 

Well, sort of. She watches him actually, and can't stop thinking about the last time she saw him. She owes him her life actually, and if she's honest with herself she hasn't been able to stop thinking about him. 

“So…” Lily begins, and James echoes her. 

“So… what?”

“A safehouse, huh?” She sees him tense slightly, glancing around, as if still concerned someone will overhear. But eventually he meets her eyes again. His expression has changed, looks far more guarded, but there’s also a flicker of determination in there as well. 

"Yeah,” James says. “A safehouse. There's a network of them, all hidden by the Fidelius Charm. Some of the Order's best-kept secrets are in places like this. It’s where– well, it’s where we smuggle the remaining Muggleborns in hiding. It’s how we get them out of here.”

“Here?” Lily probes, and James nods, acknowledging her question. 

“England, mostly. But we’ve been trying to get them out of Europe altogether. It’s safer for them that way, now that Voldemort’s been trying to expand his influence.” Lily has a vague memory of a news clipping a few weeks ago. One where The Prophet was reporting on a ‘diplomatic mission’ to the French Ministry. 

“I saw that,” she murmurs faintly, a sick feeling welling up in her stomach. “It makes sense though, why they’d try for that.” James nods, a bitter and tired look on his face as he leans back in his chair. 

“That’s what the Order’s been working on most recently. Trying to get help from out of the country. We– well, we need help.” 

“I’m guessing it’s not been successful?” Lily asks, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice as she looks away from James, and she can see him wince out of the corner of her eye.

“That would be an accurate statement,” he says, a note of pain in his voice, and they fall into a long stretch of silence as Lily processes his words. 

“What’s the Order?” she asks suddenly, and James jumps a little at the sudden burst of sound. He furrows his brow, as if he’s thinking hard, thinking about how much to tell her. It infuriates her, but before she can voice her thoughts he speaks. 

"The Order is..." He pauses, rubbing his face with one hand, clearly exhausted. "It's a group of people who’ve come together to fight against the Death Eaters.” He grimaces. “I mean, there isn’t a lot we can do, considering they’re the sitting form of government. We’ve been trying to take down the main ones pulling the strings, but it’s like a game of whack-a-mole, you know? You take one down, and another pops up."

The muggle reference makes Lily smile a little. “You remember that game?” James nods. 

“It was our first date, Evans,” he begins, the corners of his own lips turning upward. 

“It wasn’t a date,” Lily protests, but she doesn’t put much heart into it. James shrugs. 

“Semantics. But anyway, yeah. We’re trying to take down who and what we can. But the problem is that, well... they’ve infiltrated everything. The Ministry, the schools, you know. Everything.” He leans forward slightly, and Lily can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “It’s not about keeping them from taking over, anymore. It’s about rooting them out.” 

Lily’s brow furrows as she tries to process what he’s saying. “The places are reversed now,” she finishes for him, and James laughs bitterly. 

“Right in one, Evans,” he says, voice dry and cynical. He leans back in his seat again, and silence falls between them again until Lily finds her voice again. 

"You've been part of it for a while now, haven't you?" she asks, trying to keep her voice steady, and James shrugs casually, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to keep memories away.

"Yeah, since the beginning," he says, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “Since you left.” 

“Three years then?” she asks, and James nods. 

“Three years,” he echoes, his voice quiet, seemingly weighed down with something heavy. Sorrow, Lily thinks. And guilt. He carries guilt in his expression, too. “It'd been going on for a few years before I joined up with a couple of the seventh years. Marly, Sirius, Remus, Peter. Dumbledore inducted us almost immediately after things fell apart. After–” He stops short, his jaw clenching. He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Lily knows what he means: after Voldemort came to power, after the massacres at school and Diagon Alley. 

She finds herself inhaling sharply. three years. three years of fighting, of living in the shadows, of risking his life. It comforts her. Someone’s kept fighting when she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

She doesn’t think she can really fault herself for not fighting, though. The fact that she’s still alive is a rebellion in and of itself, and she’s proud she’s managed it all these years.

“And you’ve managed to stay alive,” she says softly, her voice laced with something between admiration and guilt that she’s not been able to be with him. “You’ve been doing all this and survived.”

“Barely.” James laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his hair again. “We’ve dwindled in numbers significantly since the fall. Lost a lot of people. I was nearly one of them a few years back.” He swallows thickly, and a look of horrible sadness crosses over his face. “We lost Peter two months ago. He and Sirius were together on a mission in the Lake District.” He closes his eyes. “Sirius came back. Peter didn’t.” 

Lily feels her heart clench. 

She’d liked Peter. Quite a bit, actually. He was always sweet to her, always making her laugh. 

She’ll miss him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, and James opens his eyes, looking at her. 

“Thank you,” he says. “It– Sirius said it was quick. So he didn’t– didn’t suffer too much.” 

A heavy silence falls over them once more, and after a while James speaks again. 

“What happened, Lily?” he asks, looking at her carefully. ‘I'm not joking when I say I thought you were dead.” He pauses, as if debating on what to say next. “They announced it in the paper, you know. ‘ Runaway Muggleborns caught and killed.” He swallows, a haunted look in his eyes. “They had pictures and everything.”

Lily remembers that. She’d nicked a copy of the paper the day after she'd survived that attack. She'd been quite taken aback at the gall of the Prophet , sharing such gruesome images of her supposed dead body. She feels a pain of sympathy for James, wonders what it was like for him to have to see that. 

“I'm sorry,” she says softly. 

James shrugs, but she sees the pain hidden in his eyes. “It's not your fault,” he says. 

Lily shakes her head. “But it is,” she replies. “I transfigured one of the people they'd killed in that attack. Made them look like me so they wouldn't come looking anymore.” It had been quite the feat; McGonagall would have been proud, she thought grimly. It was a miracle she managed to do it at all though, considering what she had just witnessed. 

They lapse into a heavy silence, several minutes past before James finally speaks.

“Tell me what happened,” he says. “After you and Mary got out of the school. Where did you go? How–” his voice fails him, breaking into something unnaturally horrified, and Lily fills in the remaining words: How did you end up like this?

Lily looks at him helplessly. She's tried so hard to forget what had happened during those two days after she and Mary had escaped the castle. But, seeing as James is the only reason she's alive, and since he has thought her dead for three years she feels she has to tell him. 

So she begins to recount the worst two days of her life.

“After we snuck out through the one-eyed witch,” she begins softly, “Mary and I disapparated to muggle London. We didn't know where to go. We thought about going to either one of our families’ homes, but we weren't sure if that was safe. For us or them.”

Lily swallows hard, the memories clawing at her as she stares down at the table. She hesitates, the weight of the past pressing down on her shoulders. James doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to speak, but the way his hazel eyes stay locked on her makes it impossible to keep it in. Lily grips the edge of the table as if it would give her strength, her knuckles whitening as she continues.

“So we ran. Stayed in alleys, backstreets, anywhere we thought no one would find us. We tried to keep moving, but we were exhausted, and…” She exhales shakily, her voice wavering. “Eventually, we decided we needed information on what was going on, so we went to Diagon Alley.” 

She regrets that choice even now, Lily does. Perhaps if they stayed in muggle London Mary would still be with her. Alive. 

“We were found out almost immediately,” Lily tells him. “There were too many of them. Death Eaters. Mary and I… we didn’t stand a chance.”  Her voice grows harsher, her hands trembling. “We held them off for as long as we could, but they were relentless. Every time we dropped one, two more came through.”

The memory flashes vividly in her mind: the crack of curses shattering signs and cobblestones, Mary at her side, her wand arm shaking from the sheer number of spells she cast. The terror in her best friend’s eyes.

“It was chaos,” Lily says, her voice breaking. “It wasn't just me and Mary fighting against them, but we were the ones who were the cause of that fight.” She looks away from James, her throat tightening, emotion welling in her eyes. “One of the Death Eaters disarmed Mary. Another hit her with a curse–I don’t even know what it was. She fell, and I–I tried to get to her, but…”

Her voice falters, and James’s breath catches, knowing what's coming next.

“She screamed at me to run,” Lily whispers, her throat burning with the effort to speak. “She knew it was over. She told me to go, to save myself, and when I wouldn’t listen, she cast a spell. A shield charm, strong enough to knock me back, and by the time I got up, they were on her.” Her shoulders shake, and she presses her fists against the table, fighting back tears. “I couldn’t save her.” 

She closes her eyes, and she sees it all again. Remembers the look in Mary’s eyes as she’d told her to run. As the green light erupted around them at the same time as Mary forced Lily backward.

“I didn’t get to bury her,” Lily says softly. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

James exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Lily…”

“I didn’t have a choice of what to do next,” she says quickly, her voice cracking, unable to bear the thought. “They were coming for me. I knew I couldn't take them all, so–” she breaks off, swallows thickly before continuing. “So I ran. Used your invisibility cloak, and hid.”

She falters, the memory of what came next clawing at her. “A few minutes later I found someone. A body. A woman. She was already dead. She must’ve been caught in the crossfire. And I transfigured her to look like me. I thought, if the Snatchers thought I was dead, they’d stop looking for me.”

James is staring at her, open–mouthed. She can't tell if he's shocked from horror or from sympathy. It's probably a mixture of both. She keeps going. 

“I drew them to where my supposed body was. Took off the cloak, and when they tried to curse me, I blew up the ground at my feet." She'd used the distraction as a way to hide herself again, and when the dust cleared, all the Death Eaters saw was Lily's handiwork.

She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “It worked. They stopped hunting me. I got out of Diagon Alley and into muggle London.” Silence permeates the air between them for a long time before James finally clears his throat. 

“And your family?” he asks. 

Lily closes her eyes, and in her mind can see the image. The dark mark over her house. Her parents, sister, all lifeless on the floor. 

“Dead,” Lily says finally. “All of them. After Diagon Alley I wanted to go to them, get them into hiding. But I was too late.” She swallows, opening her eyes to see a mixture of horror and pity in James’ expression. “I figured it was too dangerous to try and stay there, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. So…I just stayed,” she finishes softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

James’s eyes widen, his brow furrowing, but he doesn’t interrupt. He watches her like he’s afraid to move, afraid to shatter the fragile thread of her words, like if he says anything she’ll stop talking completely. 

But it feels so good to tell someone, to explain the things that have been weighing on her for three years. After being alone for so long, it feels liberating to tell someone the secrets she’s kept inside. She takes a shaky breath, her throat tight as she continues. 

“I stayed,” she repeats. “I couldn’t leave. Not right away. It didn’t feel… real.” She remembers, even now. How back when she’d walked into the room, that she kept thinking they were going to wake up. That at any moment her mum would come out of the kitchen with a pot of tea, smiling and fussing over her like always. Her dad would sit up in his chair, humming softly, telling her that everything was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Petunia would snap at her for dragging dirt into the house, her voice sharp and familiar in a way that used to irritate Lily, but all she’d wanted was to hear her voice, see her lips press into a thin line of disapproval. 

She’d give anything for that disapproval. 

But nothing happened. They didn’t wake up. 

They just lay there.

This was it. This was all that was left.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something , but the weight in her chest was suffocating, pressing down so hard that she could barely move. So she didn’t. She just sat there, her hands trembling in her lap, waiting for the impossible to happen. Waiting for her family to wake up and tell her it was all just a horrible mistake.

But they didn’t. And they never would.

She clenches her fists, now, nails digging into her palms as the memory swallows her whole. “I don’t even know why I didn’t leave. It was stupid and reckless, but I didn’t care. I just… I couldn’t leave them.” She shrugs. “I needed a place to sleep and plan, too,” she says. “Needed to figure out what to do next.”

The silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. Lily stares at the ground, her voice trembling as she continues. “The next morning I found some muggle money in my mum’s and my dad’s wallets. I took some keepsakes. Just a few things they wouldn’t miss because they weren’t alive to miss them.”

Her chest tightens, and she takes a moment to steady her breathing. “And then I left. I just… started running. And I didn’t stop.” She finally looks up, meeting James’s eyes. His expression is raw, torn between horror and sorrow. “I’ve been on my own ever since,” Lily says, her voice quieter now. 

“I should’ve been there,” James mutters suddenly, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him.

Lily blinks several times, her chest aching. “James,” she says softly, but firmly. “You couldn’t have stopped it. None of us could have.”

His eyes flicker to hers, and she can see the guilt written all over his face. It’s a feeling she knows far too well. “I should have gone with you. Should have helped you more. I could have given you a place to stay, or a fake name, or– something.” 

Lily shakes her head. “You couldn’t have done anything more,” Lily echoes her earlier words. “You did what you could.” She finds herself covering his hand with hers on the table, and he looks up at her. “You got me out,” she says, her voice steadier now. “You and Marlene. If you hadn’t… I wouldn’t even be here. So stop blaming yourself for what you couldn’t control.”

James looks away, his shoulders tense, and for a long moment, neither of them says anything. She wonders if he’s remembering that day, too. He must be. Unless he’s forgotten somehow, and Lily can’t imagine he has. She hasn’t forgotten a single second of the day her life fell apart. 

The news of the Ministry’s fall came in hushed whispers. The entirety of that day had been… off. Foreboding. Something is happening at the Ministry, the students had been saying. Several of the Slytherins had been shooting her leering looks, laughing and pointing, saying things like “This is the end for you, mudblood.” 

McGonagall had gotten a letter in the middle of their NEWT class, read it quickly, and then calmly said that class had been cancelled before leaving the classroom. She wasn’t at the staff table at lunch. Neither was Dumbledore, and the whispers grew louder, more frequent. 

It wasn’t until dinner that things came into clarity. 

Lily had only just been entering the Great Hall when the evening post arrived. James had been walking with her, the two of them having just finished their rounds, laughing loudly. She’d grown closer to him in the past few months as they’d worked together as head students. She’d begun preferring his company over almost everyone’s, which Marlene had been teasing her endlessly about. 

Marlene was the first person Lily had seen. Her best friend had been opening up a folded piece of parchment, Mary looking over her shoulder. It was slightly burned at the edges, splattered with something sickeningly like blood, and when Marlene read the note, she’d gone white as a sheet. Then, casually, slowly, she’d swiveled to look at the staff table, ignoring Mary’s questions, which were hurried and frantic looking. 

After staring at the near empty staff table, she’d stood. 

Caught sight of Lily and James.

She had walked toward them with a purpose that didn’t match the terror in her eyes. She’d been calm, enough for Lily to know that something was very very wrong, but her hands had been remarkably steady as she gripped the blood-splattered parchment. Mary, however, had been the opposite, trailing behind her, confusion and growing panic etched across her face.

“Lily,” Marlene had said when she reached them. Her voice had been low, her words measured, but there’d been a faint tremor beneath it. She’d glanced at James briefly before her eyes had locked onto Lily’s. “We need to talk. Now.” She’d grabbed Lily’s wrist, and pulled her out of the Great Hall, James and Mary on her heels.

James had frowned, his usual playful ease vanishing as he had glanced at Lily, confused.  “What’s going on, Marly?” Lily had asked, but Marlene had shushed her, only stopping to turn to answer her after a few minutes of walking. 

“Marlene, what the hell’s going on?” James had asked, his tone more urgent as Marlene slipped them into shadow. 

Marlene had let out a sharp breath, her lips in a grim line, emotion in her eyes. She held up the parchment like it was a piece of evidence. “This,” she’d said tightly, her voice taut like a bowstring, “came from my brother.” 

“Danny?” Lily remembered. He’d been a seventh year when she was a first, and every girl in Lily’s dorm (except Marlene, of course) had had a crush on the Ravenclaw Head Boy. Marlene nodded in response, her face now ashen. Danny was an Auror at the Ministry, Lily suddenly recalled. James had leaned in to get a better look at the paper, his expression shifting the moment he saw the bloodstains. His shoulders had tensed, his jaw tightening, but he hadn’t said anything yet.

“He smuggled it out somehow,” Marlene had continued, glancing over her shoulder as though someone might be listening. “I don’t know how he got it to me, but–” Her voice had cracked then, and she’d taken a moment to steady herself. “He’s probably– I don’t think he’s still–” She blinks back tears, then shakes her head quickly. “He says the Ministry has fallen. The Death Eaters–Voldemort–they’ve taken over.”

Lily had felt her stomach plummet, a hollow pit opening up inside her.

James had been the first to speak, his voice low and disbelieving. “Marlene, are you sure–”

“Of course I’m bloody sure!” she’d snapped, her voice sharp and brittle. “Do you think my brother would have–” her voice broke completely, and she’d let out a dry sob. 

“What else–” Lily had begun, her voice barely above a whisper, but before she could finish, Marlene had handed her the note, and Lily had read it, panic rising inside her with each word. 

Don’t try to fight. They’re coming. 

The silence that had followed had been suffocating.

Lily could still remember the sound of her own breathing– too loud, too shallow, like her body had forgotten how to function. The words had hung in the air between them, heavy and inescapable.

James had been the one to break the silence. “We need to get you two out of here,” he’d said firmly, his gaze switching between Mary and Lily. 

It had taken her a moment to remember where she was, what James was telling her, and when she’d registered it, she’d folded her arms. 

“What?” she’d blurted, shaking her head. “No, James, I’m not–”

“If the Ministry’s gone, Hogwarts isn’t going to be safe for long,” James interrupted. “It says right here: They’re coming.”

She’d glared at him, her voice trembling. “James, I can’t just leave. I—”

“You can ,” he’d interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And you will. Both of you will.” 

But it didn’t matter, because Lily had ended up fighting. Seconds after James had spoken, an explosion had echoed through the castle, shaking the very stones beneath their feet. Dust rained from the ceiling as the walls shuddered, and for a moment, none of them moved but to blink the particles out of their eyes.

Then came the screams of students in the Great Hall.

"They’re here,” Marlene swore under her breath, her calm exterior fracturing as panic flashed in her eyes. 

"We need to move now, " James said frantically, and he started running. 

Lily had barely registered the words, still reeling from shock and fear, but she’d followed James and Marlene down the corridor. Around them, chaos erupted– students began spilling from the hall, their frightened screams echoing off the stone walls. Spells exploded in the distance, the castle shaking with every blast.

“Where are we going?” Marlene had shouted, ducking as a chunk of stone whizzed over her head.

“The one-eyed witch!” James yelled over his shoulder.

Lily blinked, her mind scrambling to make sense of his words. “What?”

“The statue!” James called again. “It’s a passageway to Hogsmeade– there’s a tunnel behind it!” Another explosion rocked the castle, closer this time, and Lily barely had time to register the source before a jet of green light shot past her, missing her by inches.

“Get down!” James shouted, pulling her behind a pillar as more curses flew through the air.

It was chaos, Lily remembers now. Getting to that passageway. Death Eaters had caught up to them, and it had been torture to know she was leaving, that she wasn’t going to be staying behind to help defend the castle that she knew was going to fall. The noise was deafening—spells colliding, stone cracking, screams echoing—and Lily’s chest burned with every breath as the four of them had run for their lives. 

When they reached the corridor leading to the one-eyed witch statue, they skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. Thankfully, it had been secluded enough for them not to be disturbed as James murmured a spell, and the statue slid away, revealing a long passageway. 

“Go,” James had said. “Quickly. You probably haven’t got much time.” He reached into his robes and pulled out something silvery, shimmering faintly even in the dim light of the corridor.

Lily’s breath caught as she recognized it. “Is that–”

“Invisibility cloak. How else do you think we get away with so much around here?” He shoved it into her hands. “You’ll need it to get out of the village safely.” 

“James I can’t–”

“You need it more than I do. You have to get out of here, and you need every advantage you can get.”

Mary, standing just inside the mouth of the tunnel, peeked back, her face pale and strained. “Lily, come on!”

They’d left soon after, and stayed in the dark–literally and figuratively– for about a day. Only the day after had they decided to go and find more information about what had happened. 

Lily wonders, sometimes, what would have happened had they not decided to go to Diagon Alley. Wonders if Mary would still be alive, wonders if things would be different. If she’d have been able to resist a little more, not have to resort to thieving to survive. 

Live in the moment. Her father’s words return to her, and Lily shakes her head as if to clear it. 

“So what happened to you?” she asks James. “After we left.”

James leans back in his chair, a look of pain spreading over his face, the corners of his eyes tightening. He swallows. He’s silent for so long that Lily thinks he isn’t going to tell her at all. But then he lets out a small breath, and closes his eyes, shaking his head. 

He tells her. 

And she listens. Listens as James tells her how he and the others stayed behind to help the Muggleborns escape. How the castle became a war zone in a matter of minutes, curses flying through the air and the walls shaking with explosions. He talks about running through the castle, room by room, dragging terrified children out of hiding places. How some of them had been too frozen with fear to move, and Sirius had carried more than a few of them over his shoulder while spells ricocheted down the hallways. How Peter and Remus had stayed calm, even when the chaos threatened to swallow them whole, helping Marlene keep the younger kids quiet and moving.

She can picture it. Hear the sounds of screams echoing off the walls, the smell of fire and smoke filling the air. In her mind’s eye she can see James, disheveled and frantic, calling out to the kids as he ushered them toward the passageways, pushing them forward even as the sounds of the battle grew closer.

He tells her how McGonagall had told them there was nothing left for them there anymore. How she’d told them to run, to get home. 

“And you left,” Lily says softly, though it isn’t an accusation.

James looks at her, pausing in his story, pain in his eyes. 

“And we left,” he echoes. 

Silence. 

He still feels guilty about it, Lily can tell. She recognizes guilt. Sees it in her reflection every time she looks at a mirror. 

“What happened?” she asks finally. “After it was all over?”

James runs a hand over his face.

“We were forced to come back after a few days. The ones who weren’t Muggleborn–or who weren’t dead– were supposed to return to school. It was the new law. But school wasn’t the same. The only thing that remained semi-normal was the old professors. A few of them managed to stay behind. Flitwick, Slughorn, Binns, Sinistra. McGonagall and Dumbledore were ousted though.” He snorts. “They kept me as Head Boy for some reason, but they filled the Head Girl position,” he says. “With Alecto Carrow, of all people. Right nightmare, that one. I made sure to make her job hell, though.” 

Lily musters a small smile. 

“Sounds like you,” she murmurs, and James gazes at her. 

“Yeah,” he says, “well. There wasn’t really anyone else I wanted to do the job with but you.”

Lily stills, feels her lips turn downward a little. “I’m–”  

“I think I read that article at least ten times when I first got the paper,” James continues, his voice trembling slightly. “I was still at home, when it was reported. Over and over I read the damned thing, just to convince myself it wasn’t real. They didn’t even bother to explain what happened—they just called it ‘necessary justice.’”

His jaw tightens, and he looks down at the table, like it's the article in question. “I didn’t want to believe it, but it was your name , Lily. Your name and a picture of your–” He breaks off, voice falling into something raw and unnatural. “How could I not believe it was you?” Silence permeates between them, and she wants to reach for him, but she stops herself, worried it will make him stop talking. 

“I kept thinking about you,” James says, his voice thick. “About how I’d shoved that damn cloak into your hands and told you to go, and how I should’ve gone with you.”

Lily swallows the rising lump in her throat, and she wants to say something, but the half–formed words die before they can escape her lips. 

“I should have gone with you.” He repeats the words quietly, and she can hear the earnestness with which he says them, very nearly feel the regret coating each word, and she knows that he’s thinking back to that night three years ago in front of the statue. 

She’d been about to leave, to follow Mary through the tunnel and to safety, when she’d stopped and turned, looking at James and Marlene. Realization had just hit her, and she knew that the look of fear on their faces was reflected on hers.

“You can’t stay here,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice. “They’ve seen you both help us, you know what they’ll do–”

“Yeah,” Marlene interrupted firmly, her clear blue eyes locking onto hers. “We know. But we have to stay behind. Get as many people to safety as possible.” 

“This is the only way,” James had added, urgency in his voice. “Please, Lily, you have to go. You know it.”

She did know it. 

Didn’t make her hate it any less. She’d stared at both of them, then. Mostly, James of course, as he’d been the last person to offer reason. For quite some time, actually, and she just. 

Couldn’t move. 

She didn’t know why back then, and she still doesn’t now, other than James seemed to be holding her there with his gaze alone. He was standing there, in the midst of all this horrible chaos, looking at her with those stupidly determined hazel eyes, the ones that always seemed to cut right through her no matter how much she tried to keep her guard up. The ones that were filled with anxiety and love and certainty, the ones that were pleading for her to run.

James Potter, with his messy black hair and his ridiculous confidence and his unbelievable ability to make her feel like everything might actually be okay, that it could all work out in the end. And there he was, just accepting it, like it didn’t even matter, because getting her and Mary out of there was more important to him than his own life.

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was being an idiot, that he couldn’t stay, that she wouldn’t let him throw his life away for her. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled up with everything else she’d never said.

Because the truth was, she loved him.

And it scared her.

Her chest tightened, the truth of the thought crashing over her like waves hitting the seaside cliffs. She took a step closer to him. 

Mary was already halfway into the tunnel, waiting anxiously, and the sounds of fighting and explosions were growing louder. They didn’t have time.

“Lily,” James said again, softer now, like he was trying to pull her out of her spiral, and this– the way he’d said her name had spurred her to say the words. .

“I love you.”

The entire world had seemed to quiet then, and James’ eyes had widened, mouth falling open. 

“What?” he’d choked out, and Lily had shrugged helplessly. 

“I love you,” she said again, more firmly this time. She swallowed hard, gripping the invisibility  cloak tightly in her hands as she forced herself to go on, to tell him this, here at the end, because she wanted him to know. She needed him to know. “I’ve loved you for a while now, and if I don’t say it now, I might not get the chance.”

“Lily,” he’d begun, voice still raspy and full of disbelief, “you–” but she’d cut him off with a kiss.

Her hands fisted in the front of his robes as she pulled him down to her, pressing her lips against his with a desperation that matched the chaos around them. For a moment, James didn’t move, too stunned to react, and Lily had felt a sinking feeling that she’d read things wrong, that he didn’t love her like she did him. But then his arms came around her, pulling her closer, and he kissed her back just as fervently, like he wanted to say everything he couldn’t put into words.

When she pulled back, a whole new expression was splayed out on his face, wide-eyed and raw, like she’d just ripped something open inside him. His eyes searched hers, and she could see the thousand emotions warring within him: disbelief, relief, fear, and something deep and unshakable that made her chest physically hurt. 

“Lily,” he said softly, his voice trembling, barely audible over the distant echoes of spells and explosions. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “I–” His hands trembled slightly as they gripped her arms, and his hazel eyes were bright and fierce.

She hated it. 

She hated a lot of things.

Hated that he could look at her like that– knowing he was risking everything for her, like she was worth it. She knew–they both knew–what would happen if he stayed behind. Hated that they didn’t have more time. 

Lily felt her throat tighten, but there was no time to dwell on it. The sounds of spells crashing against stone and distant shouts reminded her of the urgency of the moment. She stepped back, her hands slipping from his robes, though she wanted to cling to him.

“I love,” Marlene had said, clearing her throat, “that you two have finally figured out whatever is going on between you, but things are kind of a disaster right now and we really need to get you out of here.”

“I second this,” Mary said from the tunnel, voice high and frightened, and Lily had reluctantly stepped back. James let her go, and before he could say another word, Lily had turned and followed Mary into the tunnel, not sure she could handle hearing James speak. 

“I should have listened to you,” he says now, an echo of his earlier words. “I shouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” James' voice cracks slightly as he continues. "I thought... I thought maybe I'd see you again soon. That we’d meet up and things would be okay again, that we’d figure out what to do next.” He shakes his head. “It was naive of me, I know, but I had no idea... no idea what was really happening out there, how bad it was. I should’ve kept you with me. I should’ve–"

Lily holds up a hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "James, don’t. You made the right choice. You stayed to fight. I left because I had to. We both did what we had to do."

And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? 

They’d both done what they’d had to do in order to survive. She’d done her best to survive on the streets, stealing to live, and he’d done his best, joining the Order of the Phoenix, fighting in whatever way he could. 

James studies her from across the table, like he’s trying to work out what’s in her head. Vividly, she’s brought back to his failed attempts at legilimency, and she smiles slightly. She’s missed him, more than she can say. Not in the way she misses Mary, or the way she misses her family, but there’s always been an ache there, a longing for him she hasn’t been able to get rid of since they’d parted three years ago. Since she’d kissed him. Told him she loved him. 

She still does, she thinks abruptly, the piece of truth falling into place. But she doesn’t know what to say anymore. Everything she’s been carrying for years is sitting between them now, raw and exposed, and she feels like she has to say something, anything. But before she can, James tilts his head. 

“What?” he asks, and Lily starts. 

“Just… thinking.” 

“About?” 

Lily pauses. 

“You,” she says simply, and James raises his eyebrows. 

“Me?” Lily nods slowly, and she finds herself unable to take his gaze for very long. 

“It’s strange,” she says softly, her voice breaking the silence. “For so long– I’ve been alone. I thought I’d never see you again. Never thought I’d see anyone I knew again.” She folds her arms around her waist, like she’s shielding herself from an unknown… something. “It’s strange,” she continues, because for so long I just thought that if I did see someone, it would feel better. Like this nightmare would be over.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But it’s not.” She looks up at him, and her throat tightens at the tenderness in his expression. “It just feels like I’m still dreaming.”

James leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. He doesn’t speak right away, and Lily can practically see the words turning over in his head as he formulates some sort of response. When he finally does speak, his voice is quiet. “You’re not dreaming, Lily. You’re here. And you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

His words hit something deep inside her, and she looks away, shaking her head. Because it’s true. She knows it’s true, but somehow she can’t bring herself to fully accept it. She looks away from him, eyes fixed on a gnarled tree outside the kitchen window.

“I don’t even know how to be alive anymore,” she finds herself saying. “Not really. I’ve spent so long trying to survive, James. That’s all I’ve been.” This she believes. This she accepts. She’s a shadow, a ghost. And she hates it, but she doesn’t know how to be anything else.

James’s voice is gentle when he responds, but there’s a firmness beneath it that makes her look at him again. “You’re still you, Lily,” he says softly, and she finally looks up at him. James, like always, says it like he believes it completely, like there’s no room for doubt, and it makes her chest ache, that conviction. She wants to believe him so badly. She wants to feel whole again, to believe she can be more than just this hollow shell. But the years have worn her down. Something inside her changed irreversibly when her family and Mary had died. She’d lost a part of herself she knows she’ll never get back.

James reaches out, hesitating for only a moment before his fingers brush against hers on the table. The touch is so light, so tentative, that she almost doesn’t feel it. But it sends a jolt through her all the same, her breath catching in her throat, and suddenly she’s back in that corridor three years ago, standing in front of him, words on the tip of her tongue. For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them feels heavy, charged with everything they’ve said and everything they haven’t.

And then James speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea,” he says, “how much I’ve missed you. I’m not joking when I say I’ve thought about you pretty much every day since the last time I saw you.” He lifts his hand, leaning toward her and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Something inside her cracks, then. It’s so simple, so sincere, but it’s the kindest, the sincerest thing anyone has said or done for her in years. Her vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over, and before she can stop herself, she leans forward.

It’s instinct, a reflex, and she kisses him.

It’s soft at first, just a brush of her lips against his, tentative and uncertain. But then James reacts, his other hand comes up to cradle her face, and he kisses her back. It’s slow, achingly so, like they’re both trying to hold onto this moment, this fragile, impossible thing between them that they’d barely had the chance to start three years ago. 

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads rest together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Lily closes her eyes, lets herself live in this moment, lets herself breathe. She doesn’t understand how he can feel so steady, when her life, when the very ground she’d built a life on for years has all but crumbled beneath her. 

It would be safer to stay away, to keep running, to let him believe the ghost of her he’d mourned was all that was left. That would have been the smart choice—the one that didn’t leave her chest aching or her throat tight with the weight of everything she’d never let herself feel. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to let it happen.

But she can’t take it back, can’t pull away from the warmth of his touch or the quiet gravity in his eyes. And a piece of her, a part she thought she’d buried long ago, whispers that she doesn’t want to. She never wants to. And suddenly she’s bursting with emotion, bursting with gratitude, with the need to tell him who he was to her, who he still is to her, but before she can say a word, James Potter speaks the words for her. 

“I love you,” he says softly, and Lily feels herself freeze. “I never got to tell you the day you left,” he begins. He pulls away from her, and she feels a sense of warmth leaving her all too soon. “I’ve regretted it every day since,” he tells her, and his voice is shaky, like he’s trying and failing to keep it steady. 

“James,” she begins, heart racing and mind reeling and anticipation building, but the next words die in her throat. 

“I should have told you. Every day since I realized it in sixth year I should have told you. Made sure you knew. I thought I lost you,” James whispers, his voice breaking. 

And Lily swallows hard, her voice barely audible as she responds. “You didn’t.”

She’s still here. Still fighting. Still surviving. 

“Stay with me,” James says. “Here. Just for tonight.” 

Lily stiffens slightly, pulling back from him. She wants to, Merlin, she wants to, but the idea of staying feels impossible. She’s spent so long running, so long looking over her shoulder, that the thought of stopping, even for a moment, fills her with an initial shock of fear. 

“ James, I don’t think–” She cuts herself off, shaking her head, and James must see the hesitation in her eyes because his expression softens. 

He drops his hand from her face and takes her hand in his. “I’m not asking you to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “I know you’ve been on your own for a long time. And I know it’s not easy to stop. But you’re safe here. Just… stay. For a little while. You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just let yourself rest. That’s all I’m asking.”

For a moment, she doesn’t respond. Her hands curl into fists in her lap as she weighs her options. Everything in her screams to leave, to keep moving, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt her again. But the exhaustion in her bones, the quiet warmth of the safehouse, and the steady presence of James all make her hesitate, and she realizes that she feels… safe. 

She exhales shakily and nods. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. But just for tonight.” James’s shoulders relax at her agreement, and the faintest hint of a smile crosses his face.

“Right,” he says, standing up, and Lily closes her eyes as he drops a kiss to the top of her head as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “There’s two bedrooms. You have whichever one you want.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs. And as he walks away, presumably to set up her bedroom for the night, she swivels to face him. “Hey,” she says suddenly, and he turns. 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t– don’t tell anyone I’m here, alright? I know that everyone– Marlene, mostly, will want to know. But I need– I need time.” 

James studies her for a moment, and then nods slowly. “Alright, Evans,” he says. “On your terms, then.” He gives her a small smile. “Let’s get you settled in.” 

She rises from her chair and follows him, feeling lighter than she has in years. 

She marvels, hours later, at how quiet it is here. Quieter than any place Lily has been in since she began her life of crime. Her little attic in that old abandoned building has always done a poor job of filtering out the loud noises of the streets of London, and the virtual silence of the Knockturn Alley safehouse is a welcome change from the constant loud sounds of the city she calls home. She’s under the covers of an actual bed, and she can’t quite believe it’s real after years of sleeping on an uncomfortable cot she’d nicked a while back. She’s staring at the ceiling as the events of the day play on a loop in her mind.

She can hear James moving around in the next room– soft footsteps on the creaky wooden floor. He’s pacing, she can tell, and honestly, she doesn’t blame him. He did see someone practically come back from the dead, after all. It’s strange, hearing someone else nearby. She’s forgotten what it feels like not to be alone.

Her thoughts drift to the kiss. Both of them. The one she’d given him years ago, and the one they’d shared earlier. It felt natural. Normal. Easy as breathing, and she swears she can still feel the warmth of James’ hands and the way his voice softened when he asked her to stay. She doesn’t know what to make of it. She doesn’t know what to make of him anymore. Of his stubbornness, his kindness, his quiet determination to hold onto hope when everything else has fallen apart.

And yet, she finds herself thinking about him anyway. The look on his face when he’d seen her. About the way he said her name, like it was the most precious thing in the world, like it was something sacred. 

She swallows hard, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she can’t quite name. Relief? Guilt? Sadness? Love is there, certainly. She’s never stopped loving him, doesn’t think she ever can. It’s a mess, honestly, and she really doesn’t think she has the energy to deal with it all right now. Because for so long, she’s been running. Surviving. But tonight, here in this quiet little safehouse, she feels something she hasn’t felt in years: safe. It drowns out everything else. 

She’s safe. 

But it’s also… something else. Something fragile and uncertain, but real.

She closes her eyes, letting the sounds of the safehouse fill the silence in her mind. She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. She doesn’t know if she’ll stay, or if she’ll leave before dawn.

But tonight, she lets herself rest.

And it’s odd, but for the first time in years, Lily doesn’t feel the need to run.