Chapter Text
McGonagall finally dismissed James a little after ten.
He had spent the last two hours cleaning every piece of cutlery and crockery in the staffroom, without magic, while McGonagall marked essays with brisk, deadly flicks of her quill. It honestly wouldn’t have been the worst punishment in the world… if Filch hadn’t shuffled in halfway through, chuckling to himself with vicious delight, his arms piled high with mugs and plates so thoroughly encrusted with grime that James suspected they’d been festering in his office since the day he’d been hired.
Git.
The detention itself was a complete overreaction anyway. All James had done was enchant the staffroom teapot to provide musical accompaniment whenever someone poured from it. Harmless. Completely harmless.
…Or, well, it would have been, if the pot hadn’t chosen to belt out a stirring rendition of God Save the Quaffle while Flitwick was attempting to prepare peppermint tea. The musical stylings apparently startled him so badly that he doused half the boiling tea over himself and the other half onto a stack of McGonagall’s freshly graded papers. McGonagall, mid-rant to James, had called it “a misuse of charmwork, school property, and the national dignity of tea.”
Ordinarily, James would have trudged back to the dormitory in a foul mood, muttering about injustice and unfairness and the tragic oppression of brilliant young minds.
Tonight, however, he practically bounced back up to Gryffindor Tower. He took the stairs two at a time, his thoughts ricocheting around his head like an over-excited Snitch trapped in a broom cupboard.
He had a date.
With Lily Evans.
Not just bloody that… Lily had asked him on a date.
She had picked the day. She had said the words. He had watched her say them.
By the time he reached the portrait hole, his grin was so wide that his cheeks were starting to ache.
* * *
“True or false,” Lily said, reading off the revision sheet in front of her. “A bezoar is effective against most common poisons, but not against every toxin or venom.”
Lily sat opposite James in the library, her hair falling forwards over one shoulder as she read from her Potions notes. James was leaning back in his chair, turning his quill end over end between his fingers. His textbook lay open at a page he had technically looked at several times, though he had absorbed absolutely none of it.
Bit hard to focus on Potions, particularly when it was taking all of James’ effort not to look too overjoyed that he was even here in the first place.
One minute, it was dinner, and he was complaining loudly about Slughorn’s upcoming exam on delayed-reaction poisons (for the record, he still maintains that any potion that waits 12 hours before killing a bloke is frankly showing poor sportsmanship). The next minute, Lily - who’d been seated with Marlene and Mary a little way down Gryffindor table - had glanced over.
“I was going to revise that tonight,” she’d said. “You can come with me, if you like.”
James had nearly inhaled a roast potato.
And now he was sitting in the library, trying very hard not to think about how Lily’s hair looked in the low library light, all burnished red and gold, as if it had no respect whatsoever for the fact that he was striving to just bloody focus.
At the start of the year, when James’ Head Boy badge had fallen out of its envelope and landed with a neat little splash in his cereal (an event that was accompanied by Sirius choking on his toast so violently that James was concerned St Mungos would need to get involved), James had one goal - avoid becoming the first Head Boy to be murdered by the Head Girl before Christmas. There had been no doubt in his mind that Lily Evans would receive the other badge. And there was equally no question that however horrified Sirius had been, Lily’s reaction was going to be far worse.
And he was right. It was bad. At first.
But by October, James had learnt a dangerous thing - Lily was spectacularly easy to spend time with.
Somewhere between catching third years trying to sneak into each others’ common rooms and arguing over whether Peeves’ pranks counted as a disciplinary issue or an environmental hazard, he and Lily had started talking. Properly talking. Learning about each others’ families, the Muggle songs Lily missed most when she was at school, the absurd things James and Sirius got up to over school breaks, the stories behind old scars and stupid grudges. And then it started spilling beyond patrols. They began walking to class together when their timetables lined up. They drifted towards the same part of the Gryffindor table at mealtimes. And sometimes, after tallying the weekly house points in the common room, they would stay long after the parchment had been rolled up, not noticing how much time had passed until one of them glanced at a clock and found it was suddenly, impossibly, the middle of the night.
And the worst part - the most inconvenient, soul-destroying, deeply unfair part - was that Sirius had been wrong.
“You’ve gone and built her into some unrealistic goddess in your head,” Sirius had once said back in 5th year while James was probably (definitely) sulking about being rejected by Lily, again. “If you actually got to know her, she’d become a real person. People have flaws. You’d get over it.”
James had not gotten over it.
Instead of dissipating, his crush had done something much worse. It had become rooted. Real. Completely unable to be ignored.
But it didn’t matter. He refused to let his stupid sodding crush fuck everything up.
James had spent years throwing his feelings at Lily like Bludgers and then acting surprised when she dodged. He was not doing that again. Whatever this was between them now - friendship, trust, banter, the astonishing fact that she now voluntarily chose to spend time with him - he would not ruin it by grabbing for more. He would rather have Lily in his life as a friend than not at all.
Although… and he would never admit this to anyone aloud, but there were times when James could almost convince himself there was something in the way she looked at him. Like he wasn’t the only one holding himself back from feeling something, saying something.
Almost.
“You’re not listening,” Lily said.
James blinked, returning to the present. “I am absolutely listening,” he lied.
“You were staring at my left ear.”
“I’ll have you know I’m learning a lot from that ear. That ear has sage wisdom.”
Her mouth twitched. James counted that as a victory and tried not to look too pleased about it.
“Alright, fine,” he conceded. “I missed the last one. Say it again?”
Lily sighed with the air of someone patiently trying to deal with the whims of a toddler. “True or false. A bezoar is effective against most common poisons, but not against every toxin or venom.”
James straightened slightly. “True. Very useful little stone. Terrible name. Sounds like something Sirius would cough up.”
Lily smiled and looked down at the next point on her notes.
“True or false,” she continued. “When brewing a delayed-reaction antidote, adding powdered moonstone too early can destabilise the suspension and reduce potency.”
“True,” James said. “Which is rude, because powdered moonstone looks like it ought to be helpful at all times. Very misleading ingredient. Pretty, but treacherous.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lily murmured.
James pointed his quill at her. “Evans, if you’re calling me pretty, I’ll take it, but if you’re calling me treacherous, I’ll need examples.”
“You’ve literally given the entire school seven years’ worth of examples.”
“Cruel woman.”
“Distractible man.” She flipped through a few pages, though there was a definite curve to her mouth now. “True or false. Stirring counter-clockwise after adding crushed asphodel will slow the onset of a sleeping draught.”
“False,” James said. “It accelerates it. Which I know because Peter once got the direction wrong during class and Remus fell asleep face-first into his notes.”
Lily laughed then, properly, before catching herself and pressing her lips together.
James grinned. “You remember that?”
“I remember Remus waking up with ink on his forehead.”
“Personally, I think he looked rather dashing with the word ‘fluxweed’ imprinted backwards across his eyebrows. A marked improvement.”
Lily shook her head, still smiling, and James felt that familiar, ridiculous rush spread through him. These were the moments that undid him. The quiet ones, the casual ones. The ones that felt so comfortable and easy that he wouldn’t much mind existing in them indefinitely. Lily with ink on the side of her thumb. Lily trying not to laugh in the library. Lily looking at him like she’d decided he was a bit of an idiot, but not necessarily an unbearable one.
Lily went back to studying her notes. She was quiet for long enough that James assumed she really wanted to stump him with the next question… or he would have assumed that, had he not noticed that her eyes had gone quite still on the page. Something flickered across her features. Amusement, maybe? Warmth? Some private thought seemed almost soft and uncertain, but it was gone before James could make any sense of it.
Lily smoothed her face into perfect composure. She sat a little straighter, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued on as though nothing had happened.
“True or false,” she said in the exact same calm and studious tone from earlier. “You’ve stopped trying to ask me out.”
James’ brain stuttered to a halt.
The library seemed to go very still. Lily looked up from her notes.
“Uh,” he said intelligently. “I mean… well… true?”
Lily’s expression did not change. “But you like spending time together.”
“True,” James said immediately. His throat felt oddly tight. “Very true.”
Lily’s eyes stayed on his. Green, steady and unreadable in a way that made his heart start throwing itself violently against his ribs.
“So the painfully obvious crush you’ve had on me since at least fifth year…” she said, still in that maddeningly even voice. “Not a thing anymore?”
James forgot how to breathe.
For half a second, every instinct he possessed scrambled into self-defence mode. Just make a joke. Grin. Deflect. Say something stupid enough that she laughs and they can both pretend this hasn’t become the most important conversation of his life.
James’ fingers tightened around his quill.
“False,” he said.
Lily’s mouth softened, almost imperceptibly. She kept looking at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. It honestly felt like she could see directly through his skin and into every mortifying thought he’d ever had.
“Well,” Lily said lightly, breaking her gaze and gathering her materials into a stack. “It’s nearly eight.”
James blinked. “What?”
“Your detention.” She slipped her notes into her bag with infuriating composure. “With McGonagall. Unless you’re planning to be late, which seems unwise, given the teapot situation.”
James felt like his mouth was full of cotton. He resorted to the only thing that felt mildly natural - senseless drivel. “Hey, that teapot was a triumph of magical innovation.”
“That teapot made Professor Flitwick cry.”
“From awe.”
“From the scalding tea, I’d say.”
James couldn’t help breathe out a laugh. He was still looking at her, trying to work out whether he had imagined the last two minutes. His pulse was racing. His palms felt strangely warm. Lily, meanwhile, was calmly collecting her textbook, quills and parchment as though she had not just taken his entire nervous system apart and rearranged it for sport.
She slid one book into the crook of her arm and casually glanced at him.
“Have you made plans for Hogsmeade this weekend?”
James, already feeling several steps behind in this conversation, lost what little footing he thought he had.
“Hogsmeade?”
“Yes, Potter. The village we’ve been visiting since third year.”
“Right. Yes. That Hogsmeade.” He dragged a hand through his hair, then realised he was doing it and stopped. Then realised Lily had noticed and wanted to fling himself into the Restricted Section. “I mean, probably just the usual with the lads. Zonko’s. Honeydukes. Three Broomsticks. You know, the… uh, the usual.”
Lily nodded thoughtfully.
“You should go with me instead,” she said.
James’ mind went blank.
Utterly blank.
He sat there like a boy whose soul had briefly stepped out of the room and left the rest of him woefully unattended. There was no way he’d heard her correctly.
“I should… what?” he said.
Lily stood. There was an innocent little smile on her lips that James did not trust at all, largely because it was making him feel like he had been hit in the chest with a Stunning Spell.
“You should go with me,” she repeated.
“You mean, as friends?” he asked, because the alternative was so impossible that his head refused to touch it directly.
Lily’s smile deepened.
“No,” she said. “As a date.”
James stared.
“Good night, James.”
Then she turned and walked away.
For several seconds, James did absolutely nothing.
He just sat there with his mouth slightly open, his quill still in his hand, his Potions textbook open in front of him and the entire world as he knew it becoming completely unrecognisable because Lily Evans had just invited him to go to Hogsmeade with her.
On a date.
A date.
With him.
“Evans!”
James shoved his things into his bag with no regard for page markers, ink bottles or the structural integrity of his Potions notes. His chair scraped violently against the floor.
Madam Pince made a noise like a cursed kettle.
“Mr Potter!”
“Sorry! Romantic emergency!” James called, already moving to chase after Lily who had just reached the library doors. He could have sworn he heard Lily’s laugh drift lightly behind her.
* * *
James burst into the boys’ dormitory with enough enthusiasm to rattle the windowpanes.
“Evening, gentlemen!” he announced loudly.
Three heads turned.
Remus was perched on the edge of his bed with a book half-open in his lap. Peter was kneeling beside his trunk, rummaging through a pile of Chocolate Frog wrappers like a man hunting for buried treasure. Sirius was sitting cross-legged on his mattress, determinedly using a butter knife to open the casing of a stolen Sneakoscope for reasons that were best left unquestioned.
“Wormtail!” James cried, striding over and ruffling Peter’s hair with both hands before the poor boy could defend himself. “Magnificent hair tonight! Truly inspired work.”
“Oi!” Peter squawked in protest.
James moved on before he could retaliate.
“Moony!” he said next, sweeping a hand grandly toward the lamp on Remus’ bedside table. “Look at that lamp! Have you ever seen such a magnificent lamp? The symmetry! The glow! The pure, unadulterated brilliance of it!”
Remus lowered his book slowly.
“…James.”
“And this bedpost!” James continued, grabbing the carved wooden post at the foot of Sirius’ bed and shaking it enthusiastically. “Padfoot, mate. Have you ever seen craftsmanship like this? Extraordinary!”
Sirius looked slowly from James to the bedpost. “Prongs, I say this with love - unhand my furniture before I hex you into it.”
James laughed, giving the bedpost an affectionate pat farewell.
“Lads! Lads. Why so glum? Why so suspicious?” James threw his arms wide. “This is a glorious evening!”
For several long seconds, no one said anything.
“...Has he been hit on the head?” Peter whispered, leaning over to Remus.
“Possibly,” Remus murmured back.
Sirius snorted.
“Potter,” he said lazily, “if you’ve finally lost your mind, could you do it a bit more quietly? The first years downstairs are likely trying to sleep.”
“Sleep?” James scoffed. “Sleep is for people who haven’t just had the best day of their lives.”
Remus’ brow furrowed. Peter blinked. Sirius’ eyes flicked over James again, sharper now.
“James,” Remus said calmly, finally shutting his book. “Why are you so happy?”
James clasped his hands in front of his face. He regarded his friends with all the gravitas of a wizard about to deliver a monumental proclamation.
“Gentlemen,” he announced grandly. “Your attention, please.”
Sirius let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan. “Merlin’s arse, he’s doing a voice.”
James chose to ignore that.
“Lily Evans,” James continued, “has asked me on a date.”
Silence.
Total, absolute silence.
“...Oh dear,” Peter said sympathetically.
Remus sighed. “I was afraid of this.”
James’ grin faltered.
“...Afraid of what?”
“James,” Remus said gently, “you’ve been obsessed with Lily for… many years.”
“I mean, obsessed is a bit strong.”
“And she has spent most of that time threatening to hex you.”
“True.”
“Or actually hexing you.”
“Historically accurate.”
“So,” Remus continued patiently, “when you burst into the dormitory praising the furniture and announcing that she has apparently asked you on a date, the logical conclusion is that you’ve finally lost touch with reality.”
“Completely cracked,” Peter nodded vigorously.
“Barmier than Myrtle,” Sirius added, looking thoroughly disgusted.
James stared at them.
“You idiots,” he said flatly.
Peter rose up and put an understanding arm around James’ neck. James resisted the urge to drive his elbow firmly into Peter’s ribs.
“It’s all right, mate,” he said, patting James’ shoulder. “Happens to the best of us.”
“I’m not mad.”
Sirius snorted. “Denial.”
“That’s usually the first sign,” Peter winced.
James shoved Peter off him with enough force to send the boy staggering sideways into an open trunk.
“Would you bastards just fucking listen.” James said, thoroughly disregarding Peter’s indignant yelp. “She asked me to go to Hogsmeade with her on Saturday. Her idea. Her words. I didn’t even bring up Hogsmeade!”
Remus watched him carefully.
“James.”
“What.”
“Repeat that slowly.”
James took a deep breath.
“Lily Evans,” he said through gritted teeth, “said I should go to Hogsmeade with her this Saturday.”
The room once again went quiet.
“…She asked you?” Peter said, confused, pushing himself out of the trunk with spectacularly little dignity.
“Yes.”
“Not the other way round?”
“No.”
“You’re not joking,” Remus cut in.
“No.”
“You’re not exaggerating.”
“No!”
“You’re not misinterpreting something she said sarcastically.”
“I know when someone asks me to go to Hogsmeade, Remus.”
The Marauders exchanged a look with one another. It passed between them quickly - Peter’s wide-eyed shock, Remus’ careful reassessment, Sirius’ grimace. James could practically see the exact moment they stopped treating him like a man in need of medical attention and started understanding that, incredibly, unbelievably, this had actually happened.
Peter whooped so loudly that someone in the room below shouted for quiet.
“YOU DID IT!” Peter leapt up, grabbing James by the shoulders and shaking him with vigour. “You finally did it!”
James laughed, staggering under the force of Peter’s excitement. He didn’t bother trying to look cool or casual or even remotely composed. After all, who was he kidding? James was smiling so hard it almost hurt, all the shock and disbelief finally breaking loose into something bright and stupid and completely uncontrollable.
Lily liked him. Lily trusted him. Lily had asked him.
Lily had asked him.
The thought hit him all over again, ridiculous and enormous, and he could only grin while Peter shook him back and forth like a victory banner.
Remus was smiling now too - that quiet, pleased smile he got when something insane actually worked out.
“Well,” he said, standing and clapping James on the back, “congratulations, James.”
Across the room, Sirius hadn’t said anything. He was watching James with a strange, hard look, all traces of amusement wiped clean from his face. His jaw had tightened and his fingers were tapping against his knee, restless and brief. Whatever Sirius was thinking, James was getting the sense that he probably didn’t much want to hear it.
When Sirius did finally speak, the words came out light enough to sound like a joke, but there was something ugly tucked underneath them. The corner of his mouth lifted in a movement that was far too sharp to be a smile.
“Your funeral, mate,” Sirius said in a disinterested drawl. He reached for the half-dismantled Sneakoscope beside him and bent back over it, neatly removing himself from the conversation.
James frowned slightly, but chose not to probe further. For now.
Peter noticed absolutely none of this and was still jumping around the dormitory.
“This is brilliant! Amazing! Legendary!”
Peter suddenly froze mid-bounce. He looked at James from across the room, his features etched with deep, earnest concern.
“So,” he said, “how long do you reckon it’ll be before you stuff it all up?”
James grabbed the nearest book and hurled it at Peter’s head.
Days until Hogsmeade: 5
People badgered: 3