‘If you want to talk about that night…’ Her brows raised, surprised he even seemed nearly willing. ‘We can—not tonight. Too many listening ears.’ Lily squinted and shook her head, making it clear she hadn’t had the intention for them to delve into it. There was far too much to unpack there, far too many things she wanted to say and wanted to ask and wanted to know. At the moment, she didn’t care to figure out any of it. One difficult truth after another - baby steps. The music wouldn’t last forever and she was afraid of leaving without being honest about the one thing that had been plaguing her the most lately.
Are you blushing at a couple of snogging fifth years? Lily scoffed. ‘Come on, I would’ve thought public displays of affection like that would’ve made your stomach spin.’ “I am not. And they don’t,” Lily insisted quickly, knowing that the first was most definitely a lie and she sounded far too defensive. While it was not the display of affections that made her shy, it was the fact she was nearly chest to chest with James and he was talking about kissing when she knew full well what it was like to kiss him. And it was obvious that James wouldn’t believe her defensive assertion. Lily had no choice as she smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “Ugh. You’re unbelievable,” she muttered with a shy grin as they turned on the dance floor.
‘You don’t understand what?’ Lily shook her head. She had absolutely no intention to go into a conversation about her insecurities, nor to have James try to remedy them. She wasn’t altogether even sure if her heart could even survive James trying to list all the things he’d somehow fallen for. Lily was already on such a dangerous emotional precipice with a man who had someone else in his life. Even if that person was horrible and Lily could not fathom James lasting forever with that demon succubus, it was not her place to tell him that. That was James’ decision to make and she’d damn well be a hypocrite for calling him out on it that night, no matter how stupid it was. She simply hoped she wouldn’t ever have to.
“It’s been a long night, James… At this point, I don’t even understand what I don’t understand, just — don’t question it. Not tonight, okay?” she lied, mustering up a smile. Was she trying to confuse him to avoid having that conversation? Maybe. Was that a little rude and mischievous? Maybe. Unfortunately, Lily Evans was desperate for answers and unwilling to give many answers herself at the moment. Not when her head was still spinning after James’ confession. Lily was a logical being as much as she was emotional - it would drive her up the wall to be staying up all night thinking about their conversation without extra facts to consider in her theories and assumptions. She’d much prefer the route she was currently taking: staying up all night thinking about their conversation with some extra facts to consider. Now, at least, she had a few… James had never fallen for her for reasons other than a typical, uncalled for crush. She was starting to understand how that felt.
Lily’s brows furrowed and she looked at him with almost childish impatience. “Potter. This is no time to play dumb,” she complained, looking nearly afraid. Was he truly about to force her to say it out-loud? Could he not understand? Had he just… not thought about it as much as she had? She took a deep inhale, slowing down their dance as she looked away and painfully tried to gather her courage. “Okay. Okay.” Lily shook her head, looking back at him and stopping their dance. “Never mind. That night-” She sucked in her bottom lip before finally letting the words fall out. “IWentToGetSomethingFromThatCloset.” She said it all very quickly, nearly incomprehensible but she did not break eye contact with him. “I know you were there because… I was there too. In the closet.” Lily gulped, trying to think of ways to make this more light-hearted. “Well, I nearly punched you. Twice. And then I pushed you… and I ran. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t tell you earlier because I just-” Lily didn’t know how to end that sentence. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Sink or swim. That’s how James operated. Like a fully functioning boat, or a drowning guppy in the water, it was how he looked at Lily now. How somehow, he wanted this to sail out into the sunset. Like he had forgotten all the roadblocks. How he had a girlfriend. How he had someone he had said he wanted to try once more with, how he’d looked Florence in the eye and said he wanted another chance to work out further the mess of his life, but he wanted to do it with her there this time. And now he was looking at Lily like if he could’ve run off, if he could’ve taken her with him, he would have. The sun and stars and moon, and all that astrology bullshit could’ve stood in his way, but James had feelings, so unexplained, for the redhead in his arms, that she might never comprehend. Never know. He thought. As she shook her head now, he nodded. They’d have too. Many conversations, of many things to explain the many variances of whatever it was that happened the last six years.
He’d tell her what she wanted to hear. He’d tell her the truth because for some blink of an unmistakable moment, he wanted her to know every last ounce of him, every memory, every distant moment he wished he didn’t fall into her but he had, and why he had. But how could you offer that to someone who wasn’t yours? How could you suggest such a thing when you had someone already? James had never felt more stuck. “So—“ And James, regardless of the worries that flooded his mind, couldn’t help but grin slightly. “So you like public displays of affection?” Curiosity mingled with a feverous temperance to flirt with her as much as he could. As much as she would oh so willingly allow, given everything. “Interesting, interesting.” It was all he said.
It’s been a long night, James… At this point, I don’t even understand what I don’t understand, just — don’t question it. Not tonight, okay? He nodded. “Okay.” He knew it was best. He knew it’d help her, so much, so quickly. Alcohol had loosened his tongue, set him free of the dark cloud that had hung over his head. Maybe that had been the problem, with distance, he didn’t find himself so dangerously tempted by Lily. With distance, he was able to keep the thoughts at bay, settle into the notion that she’d be this far off dream he’d never be able to get a handle of, and that was fine by him. That he could accept such a moment.
But she stepped back. Potter. This is no time to play dumb. And James shook his head. “I’m not playing dumb, Evans—“ He countered, wondering what the hell it was now he could’ve said to trigger such a response. That he stared at her incredously because he wasn’t sure what the hell it was that he could’ve done. His history had stood against him. IWentToGetSomethingFromThatCloset—James was almost tempted to have her repeat it if he wasn’t so certain she’d walk away without finishing her sentence. I know you were there because… I was there too. In the closet. He was still confused. But piecing the night together in his mind, a mingle of alcohol on his brain, the intoxicating notion that Lily had listened to him—
And then, if James had paid attention, the glass house shattered around him.
She’d almost said his name. Lips that weren’t familiar but blinded by the notion to get her off his mind, out of his body, a physical reaction. He needed a physical reaction. All he could hear was the words replaying in his head, as she’d said them moments ago. I was there too. He was tempted to ask her, the completely shocked look on his face. How he couldn’t explain his thoughts. After moments where it was nothing. Where James stood there trying to understand that the lips he’d thought about—that he feared was Bertha and hoped was Florence to avoid trouble—that he knew it wasn’t when she walked in and he was standing up in a pile of fucking buckets. That it could’ve been anyone—
“It was you?” James heard himself say. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her in the way that he took what he wanted, where that might’ve not been the first kiss he wanted with her, intentionally gentler. That was his intention. That was what he was working on. But the echo of his own words—and hers. She didn’t know why she didn’t tell him—she just didn’t. “Why—why wouldn’t you tell me, all this—“ What if it had gone futher? What if she didn’t say something? What if he’d hurt her, his physical relationship with Florence was not what he would’ve bestowed on Lily. That Florence was used to the rough and tumble, that—that his mind was spinning. That words weren’t connecting, and the floor seemed to dissolve him whole on the basis that he, James Potter, had kissed the girl he’d always wanted.
All of this could’ve been avoided if you told me. He thought, but would never say.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me—I—I don’t understand.” James stepped forward, breath caught between a gasp and a sigh, as he reached out for her hand, pulling her into him. Staggered breath fell. “I kissed you.” He whispered, his hand lifted to her cheek. He’d forgotten everything. Forgotten the school, and the impending war. Forgotten their friends and his responsibilities, forgotten that parents still lingered and Florence was about somewhere. Those green eyes caught him, as they had on the stairs that night. “You could’ve told me—“ Temptation was near, turning his head from hers. If he lingered, not that he’d move, but if he gotten any closer, as close as he wanted them to be—he would’ve fallen in, created a mess. Worth it. He thought.
“Lily, we need to talk about this.” He knew it—and he didn’t want it to slip, he didn’t want to give into the notion that if she slipped into her thoughts, she would let it go, she’d fight it off. That he wanted to work through this with her, that he wanted to understand why—and James couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. How the familiar scent hit him again as they danced, He was blinded. Blinded by the idea of Lily and not so much the potential chance he could’ve had her. “Please—“ He whispered, in ways that he hoped she’d understand in simple terms it was to understand, for her to speak to him in a safe space. They could’ve gone to the Common Room, no one would’ve been there.
“C’mon,” His hand intertwined with hers slowly, settling it down between their bodies as he turned—but James stopped.
Shock washed over him like a cold shower.
“Flo.” He breathed softly, coming face to face with his girlfriend.
Relinquished from James’ handsome side, Florence was the belle of the ball, relishing in the attention now that she was alone, speaking fondly and highly--gushing about her boyfriend, the details of her gown, hair and makeup, jewels sent from her mother.
You’re so lucky, Blishwick! Those earrings are the size of my fist!
Quaint with their praise and screeching tones of envy, Florence bestowing it upon herself to grace those worthy with her presence and so generously offering promises of referrals to her parents. Natural lies that coasted off her tongue effortlessly, angelic features and delicate smile toward those she could pretend with, parents of the ones she detested in Hogwarts, and they all ate it up like piranhas in the water.
You’re daughter is such a delight!
But it was never enough, was it?
Enough time had passed for Florence to notice James hadn’t returned to her side, supposedly at her beck and call for the night, and now making her wait.
“Have you seen James?”
“I-I think so...” The girl gulped, timid with her response, unable to look Florence
in the eye.
“Tell me now or I’ll cut out your tongue and make you wear it as a necklace.”
“I think he was with Evans...” There was more, Florence could see it in terror
filled eyes.
“I’ll give you until three.”
It took everything in Florence not to slap the girl across the face right then and there when she finally said it--like a bomb went off and a high-pitched ring thundered in her ears. Dancing with Lily Evans? What an embarrassment for her if that was where he’d been spending his time, dancing with anyone but her--not anyone even worthy! That girl with her pompous attitude, nose in the air, sickeningly sweet and flirtatious with the staff, skipping through Hogwarts as though she’d poisoned the drinking supply with a love potion. All that quality time with James and their Head duties, she must’ve bewitched him with lies and deceit and woe is me persona.
Her darkened glare was enough to motivate the girl to point in the direction of the dance floor she’d seen them last. Curse Florence for letting her friends distract her.
And she stopped. Stunned. At the sight of obvious betrayal and filth. Hand holding like school children about to titter off and play What’s Under the Covers. But Florence kept her composure, eerily stoic, seething beneath the surface--anyone but Evans.
“I’m sorry,” She said sardonically, words loud enough to carry through their short distance over the music. “Did I step on your moment?”