Guarding the Gates
Chapter 18: Desperate, Desperate Need
Friends ... It’s time.
Summary:
"Promises are dangerous in our line of work."
When James agreed to take on the mission in France, he hadn’t expected to sit through so many meetings. Their mornings, afternoons, and even some evenings consist of check-ins with Mr. Phillips and his team. It seems inefficient, but since Phillips has yet to warm up to Lily and James, he refrains from suggesting that they instead extend their morning meeting, cut out the afternoon meeting, and limit the evening meeting to a brief check-in as needed (which shouldn’t be necessary at all considering they started the days with, you guessed it, a meeting).
James sighs and chooses the path of least resistance, missing how democratic Quidditch locker rooms could be when offering up ideas. If nothing else, Phillips’ meetings are much more enjoyable than some of the “family” events he and Lily have attended with Fletcher.
While Phillips is less than enthused by their presence, Prime Minister Fletcher has taken to James and Lily like a duck to water, and James and Lily both find him pleasant to be around. But some of the other people they’ve encountered at these events ...
At several different points, James has been hit on, rather shamelessly, by women who have no qualms about his — unfortunately fake — marriage status. One looked old enough to be his grandmother, which is really saying something considering how old his father is.
Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s also had to contend with seeing Lily fending off suitors of her own. More than once, Lily commented on how well James took to pretending to be a “growly husband.” He’d been so irritated while turning away one of her would-be suitors that he nearly let it slip that it wasn’t an act.
But nothing had been worse than a luncheon he, Lily, and Fletcher attended with the Governor-General of Australia. There was nothing much wrong with him, except for the fact that it was his idea to invite families, which meant that James had to spend additional time refraining from punching Roger in the face. Lily had tried to give him a pep talk before the luncheon, saying, “Oh, come on, James, it won’t be the most enjoyable thing we’ve ever done, but it won’t be that bad.”
(It was absolutely that bad.)
As Phillips powers through the rest of his notes, James makes a half-hearted attempt to keep his mind from wandering even further. One of the few benefits of this bizarre mission is that the need to stay alert and assess their surroundings is enough to keep his mind occupied on other things besides whatever irritation he may face. The additional benefit is, of course, the ample time he’s able to spend with Lily, though that sometimes distracts from the first benefit. Especially when the strain on his heart — and another vital appendage — complicates things to a sickening degree.
The idea to go to the pool a couple of nights before had been a spur-of-the-moment idea. James knows Lily won’t ask for help if she can help it, and he’s spent enough time studying her to see the stress lying just beneath her carefully constructed façade. James is happy to comfort her, though he knows he isn’t as sure as he projects himself to be when he attempts to calm her down.
It’s a strange feeling for him, doubt. He doesn’t like it. James has been many things in his life, but unsure is typically not one of them. The war and all the things that have come with it seem to have turned the world upside down.
“…security sweeps before the Prime Minister returns from the meeting, and then another after this evening’s gala. I’m sure our guests will have their own sweeps they would like to conduct?”
James, still replaying scenes from the pool with Lily in his head, registers the question a moment later and nearly laughs at the look of disdain covering Phillips’ features.
“Yes, we’ll do a sweep of the grounds before the gala and another this evening once everyone has gone to bed.” He says before turning to Lily, who nods in agreement.
Phillips merely raises an eyebrow at this and makes a note in the margins of his notebook. “Noted.” Mr. Phillips nods, and James registers something almost resembling approval on the man’s face. “Well, everyone has their marching orders. Let’s be prepared to have the Prime Minister and our guests at the gala at 7 p.m. sharp.” Phillips gives Lily and James a stiff nod before leaving the room, his security team following him out the door as they head to their posts.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were growing on him.” James whispers as he and Lily stand to take their leave as well.
Lily fights to stifle the laughter that slips out of her mouth, and James hates that he’s missing out on the sound. “Shall we check the grounds as we pretend Phillips enjoys our company?”
“Might as well. I’ve been thinking about expanding the disapparation spells while we’re here.”
“Good call.” Lily nods. “After seeing Bellatrix the other night, I’d like to give the house as much protection as possible. Accommodating the muggles makes things a bit more difficult, though.”
James agrees. Concealment charms and other spells would be the easiest way to add a layer of protection, but it would also make it more difficult for the muggles to access the house. While Mr. Phillips’ team does routine rounds around the perimeter of the house, they can’t detect magic. James knows this because they haven’t noticed a single one of the wards he and Lily put up since they arrived.
He and Lily take a long lap around the grounds, adding an additional anti-apparition jinx since they can’t amend Madame Maxime’s. As they walk, they laugh and reminisce on old memories, both trying to take the other’s mind off the cemetery and the unsettling feeling of not knowing what is happening back home. They’ve followed Dumbledore and Moody’s order against attempting to communicate with anyone in England so far, but James was quite tempted to ignore it last night.
“This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.” Her voice pulls him back from the cemetery.
“Adjusting wards?”
“Being out of the country.” Lily corrects him. “Almost feels like we’re on holiday, if it weren’t for the existential dread and the constant threat of attack looming over us.”
James snorts. “You always were so good with words.”
Lily shoves his shoulder in response. “No, really. When’s the last time you went on holiday?”
James scratches at the stubble on his chin. Between inferi, hospital visits, and this mission, he hadn’t bothered to shave. It itches a bit, but he thinks it may be growing on him. “A few years, honestly. Hopped around a bit with Sirius, Remus, and Peter during the break after my first year with Puddlemere.”
“I’m sure you lot found a few ways to get into trouble, too.”
James winks at her in response, smiling as she shakes her head. But the truth is that they went on the trip because Sirius had been trying to get him to stop moping about after Lily left. It had been easier to find distractions during the season, but once it was over, he’d been so miserable that Sirius very nearly staged an intervention.
“What about you?” He asks. “You visited some nice places while you were gone.”
Lily shrugs one of her shoulders as they walk. “Sure, I’ve been here and there. But we were too preoccupied with tracking and dodging Voldemort for any of that to feel like a holiday. I haven’t taken a real one since my parents were still alive.”
“We’ll have to change that.” The words slip out of James’ mouth before he has a chance to catch them. Lily’s step falters beside him, and he scrambles for a cover-up. “Me and the lads, you, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary. Once the war is over, we’re heading to Nepal to see these trees you’ve been determined to see.”
Lily smiles at that. “Careful, I’ll hold you to that.” Then she laughs. “Can you imagine Sirius, Peter, and Marlene meditating with the monks?”
James stops for a moment and imagines their friends’ attempts — or half-arsed attempts, in Sirius’ case — at being zen amongst the monks and their anti-gravity trees. “We’ll most certainly be thrown out.”
“I’ll make the most of it while I can.” She shrugs again.
“I give it 15 minutes.”
“How ambitious of you!”
James laughs softly this time, distracted by the way the sun’s rays reflect off Lily’s hair as they walk back towards the house. She chatters on, oblivious to his staring and the way her earlier words play on repeat in his mind.
“This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.”
He imagines them, not with their friends, as he’d hastily said earlier, but alone. Wining and dining with her, spending the days sightseeing or lounging lazily on a beach somewhere, and the evenings wrapped around each other until the day breaks again.
And though pleasant at first, the thought settles unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach, where all his other daydreams about her eventually go to die.
“James? Are you alright?”
“Hmm?”
Her brow is furrowed as she looks at him, and James realizes that he'll have to do a better job of not being distracted. Easier said than done when she places her hand softly onto his shoulder, and the sun makes the greens of her eyes shine the way it does.
“You looked like something was wrong. Like you felt ill or something.”
James forces a laugh. If only she knew. “It’s nothing. Just remembering yesterday’s lunch with Roger.”
Lily groans. “I know I told you that it wouldn’t be that bad before we went … but it was absolutely ‘that bad.’”
James gives a dramatic sigh. “Well, far be it from me to tell you that I told you so.” He grins at Lily’s responding scoff before looking down at his watch. “I guess it’s about time for us to start getting dressed for the gala. Where has the day gone?”
“No idea, but I’m going to see if I can bother the staff for tea first.” Lily says as they approach the front of the house and nod their hellos at the security manning the door. “Would you like some?”
“No, thanks. I’ll go ahead and get showered and dressed, though, so you can have the bath once you’re finished.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods his head toward the direction of their room—their room, Merlin.
“You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Lily smiles before heading toward the kitchen, and for a moment, James can only stand there and watch.
This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.
He shakes his head and walks to their bedroom, determined to get his thoughts back into focus. Fletcher described the gala as one of the hallmark events of the summit and perhaps a gathering too tempting to pass up for some. The odds of making it through the evening without a threat of some kind are very low.
By the time Lily returns from the kitchen, James is dressed in his shirt and the pants of the tuxedo Remus and Sirius had helped him find. Remus, more like. Sirius spent half of the time laughing about all the different styles of dress muggles had for events.
“All yours.” He says, gesturing toward the open door of the en suite as she walks into the bedroom.
“Oh, perfect. I came back just in time.” Lily says as she gathers her garment bag. “I know you said you didn’t want tea, but I brought you back a cup just in case. There’s a warming charm on it.”
James smirks as he leans against the dresser. “And did you make it the way you take your tea? Or like a civilized person?”
She laughs at this. “My way is the civilized way!” Lily calls as she walks into the bathroom.
But when he takes a sip, he finds she’s made it the way he prefers. It brings a smile to his face. Not the smirk from earlier, but a soft, genuine smile he feels as he rubs his thumb over the floral design on the side of the cup. He’s brought her tea for most of their time on the mission, knowing she isn’t a morning person and will pull herself together just in time for Mr. Phillips’ morning meetings. Just as they’d both done for the occasional early morning meetings and late-night surveillance for the Order, he’d had a cup waiting for her each time.
And while Sirius teases him for it, James remembers all the times she’d done the same at Hogwarts. Tea, the biscuits he liked, and the occasional treacle tart on days he had to leave dinner early for Quidditch practice. Small gestures that meant the world to him then, when he was still in awe that they’d managed to become such close friends and hoped it would turn into more.
And it almost had, hadn’t it?
It had. It all led to that night at the boathouse when everything changed. He couldn’t have predicted that it would all change again just a few days later.
It almost makes him wonder —
