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The last night of June stretches late and listless.
The seventh years will say goodbye to Hogwarts forever tomorrow, and there’s a whole lot of emotion to go with that; nerves, intensity, hugs and exchanged promises, ambitious plans taking shape. Some are crying; others let their excitement for the new world ahead of them carry them on its wings.
In contrast, the sixth years lie lazily in front of the hearth — the coals glowing with just enough heat to keep the piercing Scotland humidity at bay — on the carpet or across the sofas. The chatter has died as midnight approaches; Sirius fiddles with the portable record player, accommodating the girls’ requests for slow, romantic ballads, played on a low volume like background lullabies.
James is lounging on one of the sofas, next to Lily. Coincidence, he’ll insist if asked; just a thing that happens sometimes. They’re all classmates and friends, after all, boys and girls, and they often spend time together like this. He hasn’t planned it any more than he ever plans for his gaze to find her in a crowd, or to fall on her right now as she lies with her back on the sofa and her eyes closed — but it does all the same, and the sight fills his heart with something tender. If that’s all he ever gets of her, it will be enough.
He allows himself some time to enjoy the sweetness of her prοximity until the feeling brims over, escaping from his lips in a light chuckle. His knee knocks against hers. “Go to bed, Evans. You’re knackered.”
A negative grunt. Her eyes open halfway — and even so, their green shines through, straight into his heart. “Don’t wanna,” she purrs.
“Better in your bed than ruining your back on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow.”
“I don’t wanna go home.”
If it were up to him, they’d both stay here forever, sitting next to each other. It might be enough. “Me neither.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Time hastens all of a sudden, judging by how frantically his heart is trying to keep up with it. He throws a glance at the others — they seem as relaxed and content as ever — then slides his hand next to where hers rests on the seat cushion between them. “Come here.”
She scoots closer, enough to maybe lean against his shoulder — but he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her in, with her back against his hammering heart and the top of her head right at the height of his lips. Resisting a kiss now might be the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life, but she’s in his arms, and his hand is caressing her side. It must be enough — for now, at least, for this delicate moment.
Between Lily’s warmth and the twangy sounds of the guitar, he’s lulled into a peaceful trance — then the music stops, and Sirius’s voice booms a little too loud. “All right, everyone, it’s bedtime. We’re already losing people.” James opens one judgemental eye, and finds his best friend eyeing Lily as though he’s spotted elusive prey. “That’s not a pillow, Evans.”
Lily lets out a whine, stretching her neck further against James’s shoulder. Her lips are only inches from his. “In a minute,” she mumbles.
“In a minute. Right. Off we go, you lot.” He loudly packs up the record player, snapping the lid closed and all but slamming the records into a pile. James doesn’t know if he should be annoyed or grateful, but the rest of their company rise sluggishly and make to leave without making a fuss over the unlikely pair sprawled together on the sofa, so that’s one small blessing, at least.
With the side of his eye, he keeps watch until everyone disappears up the stairs, and the common room is now entirely empty. He didn’t notice when everyone else left — not that he could notice much, with Lily’s body flush against his. It’s enough to make the rest of the world disappear.
He dares to trace a finger across her jaw, a touch soft and provocative at the same time. The corner of her lips rises just so — the most thrilling victory.
“Minute’s up,” he teases, a whisper close to her mouth.
She shifts slightly towards him and opens her eyes. There’s not a trace of sleep in them; they’re wide and bright, a kind of joy he never thought he’d see from so close.
“Are you sending me off?” she asks, her voice husky.
“Not if I can help it.”
The distance closes as though on its own. Their lips meet; it’s natural, instinctive, proximity taking shape and taste. Soft, slow, but unmistakably there, like the breath hovering between the featherlight touches.
Yesterday — a few minutes ago — James had thought there was a world between them, an endless ocean in which his love was destined to drown. Now he’s kissing her, and already it’s not enough.
“I love you,” he murmurs, the words warm — more than warm, feverish. His hand cups Lily’s cheek, his other arm presses around her tighter, and he marvels at how perfectly she fits in his embrace. “Love you so much.”
There’s wonder in her eyes as she looks back at him, eyelashes fluttering and mouth parted still. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t say it back, because he can hear it in her heated breath. He can feel it in the way her finger tracks the edges of his mouth and her eyes drink him in. She swallows, and he becomes mesmerised by the line of her throat. He’s so, so far gone.
“James,” she whispers. It’s the first time she calls him that, and even coloured in shyness, his given name has never sounded better. He can’t help the smile that escapes him.
“What is it?”
She’s looking at him as though she can find the words in his eyes. He hopes she will. “I can’t go the whole summer without you.”
“You won’t.” The most solemn vow he’s ever made. “I’ll come see you every day. Twice a day.” She lets out a chuckle, that joy from her eyes spilling forth, engulfing him. “All day.”
It might only be a little past midnight, but July has dawned bright and proper for him, a promise of the happiest summer right there in her smile. True sunlight under his fingers to keep all day, every day, for months, till winter and spring, as long as she’ll have him.
A whole life, if he’s lucky — and it still won’t be enough.