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She heard him before she could see him, her lips turned into a scowl as she continued scribbling away on her parchment. The sound of paper's shuffling and desks swivling kept her company before his drawling voice filed her ears, "Ah! Here she is"
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she forced herself to take a deep breath before swiveling in her chair around to face him. He was bearing a grin accompanied with a mischevious glint in his eyes, his tie was completely united and she imagined herself strangling him with it. This gave her a bit of relief to continue their conversation. "Yes, Potter"
He took a few steps closer into her personal cubicle space, "You don't seem too happy to see me" He frowned mockingly.
"That's because I'm not" She snaps, filing her papers together that were on her desk. She stands, and moves towards him to shove them into his outstretched hand. "If that's all, I would love for you to leave me alone as your presence can be suffocating"
"My dear Evans, when will you learn that you're inevitable to fall to my charms" He responds in a way that infuriates her, as his dimple appears while he says the words. As he walks away, she let herself watch his retreating figure. Her now faux scowl giving in to a small smile.
Oh when was he going to realize she already had.
The thought arrives uninvited and unwelcome, slipping into her chest with the sort of ease only James Potter has ever managed. Lily stares at the spot where he disappeared beyond the maze of Ministry cubicles, the corners of her mouth betraying her entirely as they curl upward despite herself. It is embarrassing, frankly, how quickly her irritation dissolves after he leaves. Like her annoyance only exists properly in his presence, requiring the warmth of his grin and the spark in his eyes to sustain itself.
The second he is gone, all she is left with is fondness. Which is worse. Much worse.
Around her, the Department hums on in tired half-volume. Quills scratch. Someone nearby swears violently at a jammed filing cabinet. A witch from Magical Maintenance is attempting to coax a smoking interdepartmental memo into submission with the exhausted expression of someone reconsidering every life choice she has ever made. Lily forces herself back into her chair. She should work. There are three unfinished reports sitting on her desk and another two stacked neatly beside them, all waiting for signatures and revisions and attention she cannot properly give because James Potter had leaned against the edge of her cubicle five minutes ago with his sleeves rolled up and his stupid tie hanging loose around his neck and looked at her like she was the most interesting thing he had seen all day.
Which is absurd because James looks at everyone like that, which is maybe the main problem. Because James Potter has always been easy with affection, and effortless with affection. He spills warmth into rooms carelessly, naturally, as though he has never once considered rationing it. In Hogwarts he had belonged to everyone a little bit in ways where teachers loved him despite themselves, classmates orbited him instinctively, strangers trusted him within minutes.
And Lily had hated him for it once.
Or thought she did.
There had been something deeply irritating about boys who moved through the world as though it had been made softer for them. James had smiled too easily, laughed too loudly, spoken too often, and looked at her with infuriating confidence from the moment they were eleven years old. She was briefly transported to a time where he would constantly ask her out during their times at Hogwarts, until one day, he had simply...stopped.
Stopped cornering her after Charms with crooked grins and invitations disguised as jokes. Stopped leaning across library tables to distract her while she revised. Stopped saying, “Go out with me, Evans,” like he already knew she eventually would.
And somehow that had been infinitely worse, because once he stopped asking, Lily had started noticing everything else.
The way he always pushed his glasses up when he was thinking too hard. The way he listened when people spoke to him, fully and sincerely, like he considered their words important. The way his voice softened around Remus on difficult moons. The way he would glance at her during Order meetings now—brief, absent-minded little looks that suggested habit more than intention.
As though looking for her had become instinct.
And she, idiotically, disastrously, had fallen in love with him sometime after he stopped giving her reasons not to.
The realization had crept in slowly enough to feel cruel.
Like waking up already drowning.
“Lily dearest”
She startles so hard her quill jerks violently across parchment. Marlene drops into the chair opposite her desk with zero remorse whatsoever, long legs kicked out in front of her as she steals one of Lily’s chocolate biscuits directly from the tin beside her elbow. “You look ill,” Marlene says around a mouthful.
“I’m working.” Lily flips the page, trying her best not to look over to invite more conversation.
“You’re staring at the same paragraph like it personally offended your family bloodline.”
Lily presses fingers briefly against her temple. “What do you want?”
Marlene grins immediately, which is never a good sign. “Sirius is demanding everyone come over tonight.”
Lily narrows her eyes finally turning to her. “Demanding?”
“Yes. Apparently Remus threatened to move out if Sirius hosted another gathering without warning people first, so now he’s pretending he’s become very considerate and organised.” She pauses. “He sent colour-coded invitations.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It was.”
Lily huffs out a reluctant laugh despite herself, and Marlene’s expression shifts instantly into something sharper. “Oh,” Marlene says softly.
“What?” Lily asks, holding her breathe.
The ends of Marlene's mouth are upturned, “You’re smiling again.”
“I am not.”
“You only do that after Potter leaves your desk.” She singsongs, rather irritably in Lily's opinion.
Heat crawls immediately into Lily’s face. “Marlene.That's not true. I threaten bodily harm towards him when he enters."
Marlene bites into another biscuit thoughtfully. “Mm and then stare at him when he turned around”
Lily feels genuine murderous intent rise inside her chest to which Marlene only laughs harder, seemingly very proud of her observation.
And Lily hates, truly hates, that she cannot even deny it convincingly anymore. "Don't you have things to do, Marlene" She grits out.
"Fine fine, but remember tonight!" She warns, standing up and pulls on the end of Lily's hair before walking away. Lily rolls her eyes, and mumbles under her breathe about distasteful best friends as she continues scribbling away.
By seven o’clock, Lily has almost convinced herself not to go.
This conviction lasts approximately twelve minutes. At seven twelve she is standing in front of her mirror fastening an earring with unnecessarily violent precision while telling herself that she is only going because Remus asked and because Marlene threatened bodily harm if she did not and because Sirius would never let her hear the end of it otherwise.
None of these reasons are technically lies, they are simply not the important one. The important one is that James will be there, which is pathetic, hopelessly, spectacularly pathetic. Lily exhales sharply through her nose and reaches for her coat.
The flat is already loud when she arrives.Music hums somewhere low in the background, competing with Sirius speaking at a volume inappropriate for enclosed spaces and Marlene laughing loudly enough to suggest she is already at least two drinks ahead of everyone else. Remus opens the door.
“Thank Merlin,” he says at once, stepping aside to let her in. “You’re the only person here capable of controlling them.”
“I’m not controlling Sirius.” Lily responds almost instantly, she remembers the horrors back in their time at Hogwarts.
“No, but James listens to you, and Sirius listens to James.” Remus brushed off flippantly, pulling her in for a hug.
There is something deeply unfair about the way her stomach flips at that.
Before she can answer, Sirius appears in the hallway holding two bottles of beer by their necks. “Evans!” he declares. “Come in and tell Remus he’s oppressed me all evening.”
“You set fire to the oven gloves.”
“That was one time.”
“It was twenty minutes ago.”
Lily snorts softly as she pulls off her coat, warmth immediately wrapping around her from every direction as she follows them into the living. The flat smells faintly of smoke and old books and whatever Remus has attempted to cook for them all, and beneath it sits something achingly familiar, home, in a way she has never quite admitted aloud.
“Oh. You came.” James's voice, and though they are simple words in a very casual tone, they land directly beneath her ribs.
He is sprawled across the sofa, sleeves rolled messily to his elbows, one arm slung over the back cushions while the other balances a glass of whiskey loose between his fingers. His tie is gone entirely now, top buttons open, dark hair even more ruined than it had been earlier at work. He looks unfairly good in low lighting, which is a separate issue entirely.
Lily folds her arms immediately because otherwise she may do something humiliating like stare.
“You sound surprised.”
James pushes his glasses slightly up his nose, eyes fixed on her in that steady way of his that always feels more intimate than it ought to.
“You threatened to stab Sirius last time.”
“That was because he tried to make me listen to Celestina Warbeck for three consecutive hours.”
“Still think you overreacted.”
“You’re insane.” His mouth curves slowly.
Lily has spent years pretending James Potter’s attention does not affect her physically, which was manageable enough at nineteen and significantly harder at twenty-four, because adulthood has sharpened him somehow. Hogwarts James had been all messy limbs and reckless arrogance and bright uncontained energy. Adult James is calmer, still warm,still funny, still impossibly alive in every room he enters.
But now there is intention beneath it, and when he looks at her, it feels deliberate.
“Oi,” Sirius says loudly from the kitchen. “Either kiss already or stop staring at each other like divorced parents at a school recital.”
Lily chokes immediately. Marlene cackles. Remus closes his eyes with the exhausted expression of a man accustomed to suffering.
James, meanwhile, does something profoundly unhelpful and laughs, almost like he is pleased. This sends Lily into another mental orbit, which she isn't given much time to ponder about.
Pads,” he says mildly, “you’re embarrassing Evans.”
“You’re embarrassing Evans,” Sirius corrects. “I merely observe.”
Lily throws a cushion at his head, which unfortunately Sirius catches it. Unfortunately James is still looking at her. And unfortunately,most unfortunately of all,his eyes drop briefly to her mouth before returning upward.
The movement lasts less than a second, but it still sends heat flooding straight through her.
Absolute idiot.
The evening blurs strangely after that, she blames it on the firewhiskey she drinks in a muggle cup game she plays with Remus. There are too drinks and stories and Sirius dramatically reenacting an argument from work badly enough that even Remus eventually laughs. Marlene steals cigarettes from James’ pocket despite not smoking. Someone puts on music. Sirius dances horribly with a lampshade on his head for reasons nobody fully understands.
Through all of it, Lily remains aware of James.It is unbearable, the constancy of him. He sits too close beside her on the sofa later, thigh pressed warm against hers like it means nothing at all. He leans down near her ear to make comments during Sirius’ increasingly ridiculous storytelling, and every time his voice brushes her skin she forgets entire portions of conversation afterward.
At one point he laughs suddenly at something Marlene says and Lily turns instinctively toward the sound of it. Which turns out to be a big mistake, because James turns too. And suddenly they are far too close.Close enough that she notices the amber warmth of whiskey lingering beneath mint on his breath. Close enough that she can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough that if she leaned forward—
“Lily,” he says quietly.
He hasn't called her Lily all evening.
Only Evans. Always Evans.
Something in her chest twists painfully. “Yes?”
But James does not answer immediately and continues looking at her, like he needs to make an instant discovery. She realizes she starts feeling lightheaded, almost as if she cannot breathe properly under the weight of it.
Then Sirius shouts something obscene from across the room and the moment breaks apart instantly. She takes that moment to stand too quickly, hoping he didn't notice the quiver in her step. "I need air" she declares to no-one particular. Nobody stops her.
She steps out onto the tiny balcony off the kitchen, gripping the railing harder than necessary as cold night air crashes against her overheated skin. She is a grown woman behaving like a lovesick schoolgirl because James Potter looked at her for too long. Behind her the balcony door slides open, it's just her luck she thinks.
“You alright?”
James.
Lily closes her eyes briefly before turning. He has shrugged on a jacket now, though it hangs open carelessly over his shirt. The city lights catch against his glasses as he steps closer, expression softer than she knows what to do with.
“You didn’t have to follow me.” She starts, her eyes shut not turned towards him.
She can feel his footsteps near her. “Wanted to.” He responds barely, letting her finish her sentence
The honesty of it nearly undoes her.
James has always spoken like that with her lately, plainly, without performance. It is almost worse than the flirting used to be. At least flirting gave her something to fight against.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarks, and she doesn't respond for a moment.
“I’m tired.”
“I think,” he says slowly, “you only say you’re tired when you’re trying not to say something else.”
Her pulse stumbles. The city hums distantly beneath them. Inside, Sirius howls with laughter at something incomprehensible.
James steps closer, not enough to touch but enough to make her heart race. His fingers are right next to hers on the railing, and her heart skips a beat.
“You know,” he says softly, “I used to think you still hated me.”
Lily lets out one startled breath of laughter. “You still give me plenty of reasons to.”
He hums in a response, which prompts her to continue, “You were insufferable.”
“I was charming.”
“You were a menace.”
His grin appears briefly then fades again into something gentler. More serious.
“But you stopped hating me.” He doesn't state it like a question, which causes her to look at him helplessly. James’ gaze searches her face with terrifying patience.
“I stopped asking you out because you looked miserable every time I did,” he says quietly. “And I thought maybe if I loved you a bit more quietly, eventually it would stop hurting.”
The world stills in a complete way, where she doesn't know if she can go back to pretending to be normal with him anymore. She stares at him, James laughs once under his breath, though there is no humour in it. “Probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“James—”
“But it’s true.” His voice lowers. “God, Lily, it’s always been true.”
Something inside her finally gives way.
Years of almosts.
Years of wanting.
Years of watching him love her carefully enough not to frighten her with it.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
James goes very still and Lily kisses him. That is the frightening part, one second she is standing there drowning in him, and the next her hands are in the front of his shirt and her mouth is against his. James makes a sound low in his throat that nearly destroys her.
Then suddenly he is kissing her back. Like restraint has snapped clean through him. His hands find her waist instantly, pulling her flush against him with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs, and Lily thinks dimly that this is what she has been missing all these years. James kisses like he loves. There is nothing cautious about it now, nothing polite or careful or friendly. His mouth moves against hers with devastating certainty, and when she grips fistfuls of his shirt tighter he exhales sharply like the feeling physically hurts him.
“Lily,” he breathes against her mouth. She kisses him again before he can say anything else.
Because she cannot bear another second without touching him.
Because she has wanted this for far too long.
Because James Potter has loved her forever.
And because, finally, finally Lily Evans is done pretending she does not love him back.