Work Text:
He’s not coming.
She can feel it in the fingertips that quickly fumble for the beat up pack of Benson and Hedges in her bag; see it too in the pitying stares of Mary and Duncan who’ve spent the past half hour trying to be positive despite near constant side-eyes at the door.
“Maybe he’s finishing that charms essay? Quidditch practice ran late? Lost track of the time and is on his way right now?”
Yeah, or maybe Bertram Aubrey is just a dickhead.
Sparking up a match, Lily lights the end of her cigarette and slumps against the wall of the alley, pressing her forehead into the grimy brick. Barring the less than savory smells, the damp stone feels good on her skin. She exhales.
Of all the people to be stood up—and on a bloody double date—of course she’d be the one.
She should have never said yes. She knew it the moment Bertram’s lips curled up into that salacious smile he often carries when looking at the female species. She knew it even more when she had to swat his hand away from her arse while he laughed about how she shouldn’t worry: “We can ditch the other two for a better time.”
If her mum were here and still alive, she’d tell her to keep her chin up, count her blessings, and go enjoy the day regardless. If Sev were here, he’d tell her she’d been fucking mad to try to date anyone in the first place.
But both of them also stood her up in their own ways, she supposes. So what’s the point of ruminating on them?
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” a voice says accompanied by the squeal of the back door, “But I think when people say they want to go to the pub, they mean inside the building.”
Lily holds her breath, hoping that the stench of the bins has made her hallucinate. There’s a crunch of discarded chip wrappings under feet and suddenly James Potter takes over her vision; tan skin, square set glasses, and hair primed for tornado season bending down to look back up at her through the haze of lingering cigarette smoke.
“Ah, she lives.”
He says it softly with no jeering bite around the edges, but she waits for it anyways: that slow, stupid smile accompanied by the slightest indent in the cheek. The one that taunts her in her dreams more than she’d ever willingly admit.
When it doesn’t come, it makes her want to kick off more.
“Piss off Potter.”
He grins. Finally.
“And waste these perfectly good butterbeers?”
Lily side-eyes over to the rest of him. Sure enough, both of his hands are occupied by two steaming mugs, the foam already beginning to pop and wither into hot syrupy liquid.
“Wait. Were you—” Lily peels her forehead off the wall to take a dangerous step towards him.“—Were you spying on me?”
“No…no,” James yelps, eyeing her balled up fists. “I was just surveilling the scene–doing some anthropological research if you will—and…”
His eyes dart away from hers, heat rushing to his cheeks.
“...and I noticed you slipped back here. I’m sorry.”
The apology drops like a hard stone, a last ditch effort to pull her back into an emotional baseline which she very rarely finds herself in these days, especially around him. James must realize it too because he ducks his chin into his chest and takes a small, timid sip from his mug, the playful light in his eyes dimming into a familiar shameful gaze he’s been sporting ever since the end of fifth.
“You looked upset, that’s all.”
Embarrassment coils deep in her stomach and rots. Of course someone would notice her storming out of the back door—Mary and Duncan were probably still in there deliberating on some sort of exit strategy so they won’t catch the emotional shrapnel of the situation—and if James Potter of all bloody people had noticed she’d been upset, then who else?
With a groan, Lily presses her forehead back into the wall.
“Brilliant,” she mutters, “Fine, you win, Potter. Go tell everyone that I’m being a miserable sad sack in the back alley. God knows the whole school will know anyways by the end of the—”
Her words halt with an indignant squeak. James slides fully into view, expertly clutching the full mugs of butterbeer while levering his back against the wall to settle amongst the chip wrappings and discarded bottles of mead. His pants cake almost immediately with dirt and a mysterious sludge that soaks into the fine cloth of what are no doubt a nicely tailored pair of trousers from some pureblood clothing house Lily can’t even imagine stepping her scuffed mary janes into, much less affording.
Catching her gaze, he holds out one of the steaming mugs and gives it a jiggle.
“I’m not going to do that—c’mon, it’s gonna get cold.”
She stares wide eyed, mouth agape. She’s seen James in pretty ridiculous scenarios over the course of six years—many of which by his own creation—but somehow the image of him nestled in a pile of damp rubbish with a ridiculous mixture of earnest, bashful, and amused all dancing across his face like a conga line takes top place.
She can’t help but laugh.
“Hey, now!” James whines, “Why do I get the feeling you’re taking the piss out of me?”
It makes her giggle harder, fag falling from her lips and extinguishing with a hiss into his throne of debris.
“Honestly, Evans,” James pretends to tut, a smile barely suppressed, “It’s impolite to laugh at a bloke for his interests. Just because a bit of stale beer and rubbish makes me feel alive and all doesn’t give you the right to—”
“God, just stop,” Lily guffaws, her stomach cramping. “Just—”
She doesn’t finish her sentence, giving into the ridiculousness of it all to slide herself down into the rubbish beside him. Damp paper and dirt soaks into her skirt but is quickly overshadowed by the warm brush of his shoulder against hers.
“Alright, alright, alright,” James drawls, handing her a mug and giving it a clank with his own. “Enough of that. I know I’m endlessly charming and hilarious but it’s starting to wound my ego.”
“Good,” Lily grins.
His shoulder gives hers a little teasing check, jumper rubbing up against jumper, and something inside her chest flutters which she promptly pushes aside to reinvestigate later. Head leaning back and tilted in her direction, he stares all dopey and smug with eyelashes batting against his lenses and an obtrusive voice in the back of her head remarks at how lovely his eyes look—honeyed gold with small flecks of green–and how crazy it is that she hasn’t noticed it before. Quickly, she gulps down some butterbeer to mask the intense warmth invading her body.
Must be the drink.
Definitely, absolutely, has to be the drink.
“So,” James says conversationally.
“So, what?”
“So, what are you doing out here?”
“Oh, you know,” Lily gestures broadly to the rubbish bins. “Keeping similar company.”
James lets out a humorless laugh. “Right. Certainly better than Aubrey, I suppose.”
Lily freezes, her head snapping so quick in James’s direction she can hear the muscles strain.
“Wait, how do you know about that?”
James’s eyebrows shoot upwards, color leaking from his face.
“Evans…”
“No, don’t even start,” Lily spits like chastising a child. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing—well, not explicitly to me,” James retorts quickly. “But…he hasn’t been discreet either.”
Lily looks down, suddenly mortified. It’s no secret that Bertram Aubrey could be a bit of an oaf, trying to always be the center of attention with his loud, crass jokes and jeering undertones. It’s a stark contrast to James or even Sirius Black who have always garnered the limelight without much added effort. In fact, despite years of watching James be a pompous git in other ways, Lily can’t recall a single time James has ever said so much as a salacious thing about another girl or his romantic exploits.
Somehow, it makes her feel worse.
“Potter. Tell me.”
James exhales. “It doesn’t matter. He just—” He cuts himself off, licking his lips. “I really don’t want to say it, alright? Blokes are always saying disgusting shit in the locker rooms…I’m sorry, Evans, but I don’t know what you see in him.”
Anger bubbles up, threatening to spill along with tears and other embarrassing emotions she would rather not have. She bites them back.
“I don’t see much of anything in him actually,” Lily says, sounding more cool and nonchalant than she feels. “Given that he hasn’t had the bollocks to show up.”
For all the fury Lily curtails, James makes up for it in short order. Anger blooms across his face, uncontrolled.
“Woah wait…he stood you up?” James spits, jaw gnashing. “The dickhead. The absolute knob—”
James moves to stand but Lily catches him, grabbing onto his jumper sleeve and holding him down. She’s hardly strong enough to stop him but he freezes anyway, softening from her grip.
“It’s fine,” Lily says, voice reassuring. “Really. I was an idiot to even think this was a good idea to begin with and if what you said is true it’s probably for the best, yeah?”
James ignores her, muttering under his breath.
“Fucking twat–I swear I’m gonna—”
“You aren’t going to do anything,” Lily hisses, giving his sleeve another tug. “Seriously, Potter. I agree Aubrey is a piece of shit but I don’t need you going around and hexing people on my account. It’s bad enough when you do it on your own.”
She doesn’t realize it’s a low blow until the words come out. James deflates, sinking back onto the wall.
“I’m sorry,” Lily says quickly. “That was uncalled for. You were just trying to be—”
“No, I deserve it,” James mutters, exhaling.
An awkward silence passes, her hand still grabbing at his jumper.
“...I’m trying not to, you know. Hex people.”
Lily nods. “That’s good. I’m glad—and to be fair, I might hex Aubrey for this.”
It livens James up considerably.
“Merlin, I’d pay galleons to see that. I mean—bloody hell—what kind of thick twat stands you up? I’d give my wand arm just to have you acknowledge me much less—”
He stops mid-sentence and his head snaps to look straight ahead, a visible heat creeping up from the collar of his jumper.
It’s rather adorable.
“Please forget I said that,” James says quietly. “Really, Evans. It was silly I—”
“I do—acknowledge you, I mean,” Lily says, avoiding her gaze. “Don’t reckon I could be sitting here in mysterious gook without acknowledging you at least a bit.”
A blush forms under his square rims. “It’s not what I—yes, alright. You got me. I’ll relinquish my wand arm promptly then.”
James’s new and sudden fixation on the wall opposite feels like a blessed reprieve while Lily weighs the gaping emotional chasm that spreads out before her. They’d never been able to properly sort out what happened at the lake at the end of fifth—she’d never had the emotional bandwidth between Severus and James’s oscillating apologies—but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t still think about why he tried to ask her out that day. In the depth of her despair during the summer months she’d chalked it up to some big practical joke—just another stunt to up the ante of one of his idiotic antics.
But a stupid, silly little part of her always wondered why he’d looked so sad when she’d stormed off that that day.
Probably the same stupid, silly little part, she realizes, that keeps her rooted next to him in this rubbish pile.
“It was a horrible idea anyways,” James says abruptly, ending the silence. “A double date, I mean. There’s that too, I reckon.”
Lily blinks, the emotional and conversational whiplash taking her a moment to compute.
“Why do you say that?”
“I just don’t see the point in them,” James explains, shrugging. “Ok, yes, maybe never wanting my mates to ever openly take the piss out of me in front of a date is probably a factor but, isn’t the point of a first date to get to know the other person? To be a fact finding mission of sorts?
Lily wrinkles her nose. “Wow, You make it sound so clinical.”
“Do I? Dunno, I can’t think of anything more romantic than finding out what makes someone be the way they are.”
Lily tilts her head to look at him but he continues to face ahead, his profile unreadable.
Suddenly, his lips twitch upward.
“Muggle London would be nice, I reckon.”
Lily reels back. “Excuse me?”
“For a first date,” James explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What better way to see if you truly fancy someone than sorting out the muggle train system together. I’ve seen those bloody maps and believe me, a sink or swim situation, that.”
Lily stares, incredulous.
“You’re taking the piss.”
“I’d never joke about public transport, Evans. I’m a big fan.”
“God, you’re such an arse,”Lily laughs, unable to hold back. “So you’d like to put your date through some sort of trial—”
“No,” James cuts in with a grin. “It’s just—I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not so good at surface level things. Talking about the weather, exams, sitting in the same old pub—it’s so boring. I’d want my date to have a little adventure. To do something we’ve never done a million times before—to—”
“Sit in a pile of rubbish?”
As if on cue, wind gusts up the alleyway and rustles the crinkled chip wrappings at their feet. James turns to her, eyes wide and deliberate.
“Sure,” he says quietly, “If that’s what she’d rather do.”
Maybe the stench of garbage is making her delusional. Her insides feel soft and malleable, like she could just melt into the side of him and siphon the warmth of his body forever. She leans in, angling for the soft lips that continue to part in some infinitesimal question she’s too afraid to let him ask, but she could answer all too easily.
Rubbish shudders in the wind and the spell breaks. She pulls away.
Christ.
How pathetic.
“I should go back in there, huh?” She says quietly, turning away. She can feel James searching her face, the intensity of his gaze making her skin warm. Finally, with a sigh, he leans back against the wall.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve done a shit job cheering you up, eh?”
“No. No,” Lily retorts, “You haven’t done a shit job. I’m—”
She inhales.
“I know I need to just move on from this and be strong—but I’m so tired of being strong all the time. Does that make me a coward?”
“No,” James blinks, confused. “I think that makes you human—though I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of. Aubrey is neither ready or capable of handling the likes of you.”
“Because I’m a handful,” Lily scoffs.
“Because he’d never be half as good as you.”
Something flickers across James’s face. A soft, hopeful thing that she suddenly has the urge to nurture.
“Evans I—”
He shakes his head.
“Nevermind. It’s stupid,”James says quietly. “Thanks for the company—I’m sure my mates will enjoy the symbolism of me sitting in a pile of rotting rubbish.”
With a smile, he reaches out a hand and places it on her shoulder, giving a sturdy squeeze. It’s hardly the sweeping kiss she had just been halfway towards making a reality.
But it’s something.
“Would you want to sit with me and my mates?” James offers, helping her stand.
“Nah,” Lily says, “Reckon I should go deal with Mary and Duncan. Who knows, maybe Aubrey showed his pig head afterall.”
James chuckles darkly, not looking too pleased with the idea.
“Right, well. I’ll leave you to it.”
Lily watches as he walks towards the door and begins to enter, the door creaking at his back. She has no right to do it, the complications too enormous to fathom, but that stupid, silly part of her takes hold and suddenly she’s dashing after him, rubbish stained clothes be damned.
“Potter, wait!”
He turns, not even a few paces into the door. She searches for what to say.
“What you said about your ideal first date—would it ruin it if the girl has already been there? To Muggle London I mean?”
James blinks a few times and then it clicks. Confusion blooms into something much greater and louder than the crowd of the pub and he stares at her like she’s given him the gift of rebirth.
No, like she herself is the entire world.
“Nah,” James says, grin too large and bright to detain.
“Actually, I’d prefer it.”