Blueberry + Black + Bliss
Many thanks for this lovely prompt, anon! I'm sorry I suck at stopping under 1000 words.
Lily barreled down the stairs, massive package in hand, grin rampant over lips as excitement buzzed like a second skin around her.
The Gryffindor Common Room, bereft of occupants save for a few stragglers whoâd decided to forgo some precious Sunday lie-in, flew by her periphery without garnering so much as an acknowledging scan as she skipped towards the Boysâ staircase. A foot had barely fallen onto the first step when she was halted unceremoniously by an amused call of her name.
âOi, Evans!â his voice rang out, and she whipped her head around to spot a shock of black hair, smiling hazel eyes, lazy smirk. The sight of him, burrowed inside an armchair, instantly sent the thrum beneath her ribcage stuttering. âOff to accost some poor bloke this early in the morning? At least wait for the sun to rise fully, would you? Some of us need more time to collect our wit.â
She narrowed her eyes, thoughts clattering as she debated her next course of action. Futile as the pretence that sheâd been on a path to accost someone who was not the boy in front of her was, it only took Lily another half-second to make the decision, step away from the staircase, and towards him. Jamesâs gaze brightened infinitesimally, evidently pleased by the deviation.
âDonât club in everyone else with yourself, Potter,â she remarked happily, rounding the couch to plop down on its unbelievable cushiness. âNot everyoneâs as slow as you.â
He reached out one of those unfairly long arms to bridge the space between them and flick her nose. Lily held back the widening grin. âAnd thereâs that cheek. Even at six in the morning.â
Rather than blush tellingly at the fondness he directed at her, she nodded at the pile of Transfiguration notes and books around him. âWhatâs this? James Potter studying on a Sunday? Am I dreaming?â
âAfraid of a little competition?â he threw back, fire glinting off glasses. âDonât worry, Evans, youâll still beat me in Charms and Potions.â
For a second, the golden glaze of the sun hitting his hair from the window behind stole the words from her tongue, the breath from her lungs. Prompted by Jamesâs prolonged stare, a warmth blossomed on her cheeks, bringing back some sense. âIâd beat you in DADA too.â
âI donât make it a habit to dream about you, Potter.â
âThat makes one of us,â he said, completely unabashed.
Lily fairly choked on that honesty, muscles tightening near her clavicle with strange breathlessness. âYou dream about yourself? Takes the narcissism to new heights.â
James cocked a brow, but let her deliberate misunderstanding of the phrase slide. âTechnically, everyone dreams about themselves.â
âUgh, itâs too early for this,â she groaned, sliding her legs into a fold on the couch, fluffy warm pyjamas keeping the December chill at bay. âI was going to your dormitory for a purpose, you know?â
James instantly leaned forward, pleased and making no effort to hide it. âYou were coming to see me?â
âTo see all of you,â she mumbled like a coward. Perhaps there was also some lie interlaced in there, because heâd certainly been the reason sheâd felt an extra jauntiness during her excursion. Not willing to impart that particular knowledge, Lily held out the package to him. âOpen it.â
Curiosity creased his brows, smile never waning. âWhatâs this?â
âOpen it, you impatient tosser.â
James grumbled something about âmean harpies posing as Head Girlsâ and âno appreciation for those of curious mindsâ while carefully unwrapping the package, all of which Lily soundly ignored in favour of vibrating with anticipation. When the last of the brown wrapping paper fell away, she squealed at the pink box that was revealed, full with a glossy sheen and pretty prints and designs; exactly the way she remembered it.
James looked at her, back at the box, then at her again. Eventually, amusement had his lips pinching together. âIf I donât find at least two dragon eggs inside this, Iâll be disappointed.â
âItâs something even better, I promise!â She wiggled her palms, urging him to open the box.
When he finally popped open the lid, Lily found herself under the very real threat of toppling to the floor, so far had she leaned forward. Eager green eyes spotted the dozen or so confectionaries that sat cheerily inside, miraculously undisturbed during their journey across England. âTheyâre blueberry muffins!â she informed giddily. âI requested mum to send across some from this bakery in my hometown.â
Jamesâs smile softened as he looked inside the box, so much so that when he turned his eyes to her again, the gold in them had melted into a warm honey. âYou do get blueberry muffins here too, you know,â he said kindly, voice fond.
âI know, but those are just imposters. These are the real deal. Take a bite, go on. I can bet youâll be kissing my feet in thanks.â
âDo I have to kiss your feet? Can't it be something else?â
Her heart bloated dangerously. âJames.â
âOnly kidding,â he chuckled, reaching inside dutifully and picking out a muffin. At her incessantly exaggerated prompting, he made a show of rolling his eyes before finally biting into the spongey cake. It was bizarre, but Lily could swear she felt flavours blue and sweet burst on her own tongue when James moaned aloud, eyes scrunched in bliss as he chewed.
âItâs good, isnât it?â
âWhat the fuck,â he whispered in disbelief after swallowing, staring down at the remaining muffin as if it had personally offended him by not being available before. âWhat the actual fuck?â
âI told you!â she crowed, smirking openly without a hint of modesty. âIsnât it just the best thing youâve ever tasted?â
âMerlin, I might cry.â He blinked, grinning at her. âGive me those feet, Evans.â
Lilyâs smirk dimmed, veins strangely suffused with molten courage instead of blood as she reached forward and plucked the box from Jamesâs lap, setting it aside on the table. The distressed cry he let out died abruptly when she looked at him again, face serious.
James froze, eyes wide, muffin forgotten in hand. âLily,â he warned, voice low. âDonât. Not if youâre still thinkingânot if youâre not sure.â
Her fingers found his free hand, ran over the warm palm breezily. âIâm sure,â she confessed, lashes fluttering as she stared at his Quidditch-given calluses. âIâm sorry itâs taken me so long, butâIâm sure now.â
Jamesâs eyes were aflame, even as his breath remained tempered. âTell me what you want.â
âI wantââ She bit her lip. âI want you to kiss me. I want to eat that muffin, and then I want you to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend.â
A beat passed. And then she found his hand snaking around her wrist, tugging her forward until she sloppily stumbled over to his armchair and right into his recently vacated lap. Distantly, she registered that they had an audienceâhowever meagreâbut sheâd truly never cared less.
âGood plan,â James whispered, tossing the rest of the muffin into the box. Lily didnât even feel inclined to chastise him for messing up the presentation, because he was gripping her waist the next second, pulling her closer until his nose brushed hers tenderly. âAlways the perfect answer, Miss Evans.â
âShut up,â Lily laughed, cradling his head, pulling him forward.
Their lips met, mouths opened, and blue and sweet burst on her tongue.