@jilymicrofics for prompt #19: penguin | James and Lily | 315 words
penguin:
“Will you be my penguin?” James asked her. He was staring with intense concentration at a set of enchanted knives rhythmically dismantling an onion on the counter.
The kitchen was warm from the stove. Lily paused where she was mid-stir, the wooden spoon hovered over the soup. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “Will I be your what?”
“My penguin.”
She tapped the spoon once against the rim of the pot. “What does that even mean?”
“I heard it on a documentary once,” James answered quickly. That didn't exactly clarify his statement.
Lily shifted her weight onto one hip. “A documentary,” she echoed slowly.
“Yes.”
“On penguins.”
“Yes.”
She studied him for a moment. He was squinting at the onions instead of looking at her. “What else,” she asked, eyebrow raised, “Did you learn from this documentary?”
James hesitated just long enough to make her suspicious. “Apparently,” he began, clearing his throat, “When a boy penguin likes a girl penguin—”
“Am I going to regret letting you finish that sentence?”
“No! No, it’s not like—that—” He sputtered, finally glancing at her. “It’s wholesome, I promise!”
He dragged a hand through his already unruly hair. “When he likes her,” he said more carefully, “He brings her a pebble.”
The knives continued their precise chopping.
“A pebble,” Lily repeated.
“Yes.”
“Oh, so now I’m meant to accept small rocks from you?” Lily asked.
“I’ll get you the best rock,” he swore. “Top-tier pebble. Polished and everything.”
She stared at him for a moment. His eyes looked suspiciously bright. He looked earnest and yet sincere at the same time.
“You’re crying,” she said finally.
“It’s the onions.”
A pause.
“Yes, I suppose I can be your penguin.”
Another beat.
“Penguins mate for life, you know. It was uh—part of the documentary.”
Lily tipped her head back to look at him and smiled. “I'm okay with that, Potter.”
Prompt: Muggle AU James has a very strict lunch time no matter how it inconveniences anyone around him because every day he runs into the same person. He doesn’t usually talk to her, beyond pleasantries, but plans to when he has the perfect thing to say. Which turns out to be '“That’s my sandwich” when she reaches for the last one.
Partner: @petalsonparchment
Complete. 2.2k. Oneshot. Rated G. Jily.
Read on AO3
James Potter was watching the clock.
12:28 pm.
Two more minutes.
All across the office, keyboards clacked and phones rang in cubicles, and Marlene McKinnon’s voice floated from reception as she transferred a call to one of the agents in the back. James, however, was laser-focused on the digital numbers glowing at the bottom corner of his monitor.
12:29 pm.
Sirius Black leaned back in his chair across the aisle and spun once, slow and dramatic. “You know,” he drawled, “If the building were on fire, you’d still wait until 12:30.”
James didn’t look at him. “Correct.”
12:30 pm.
James stood up so abruptly that his chair bumped the cubicle wall behind him.
“There he goes,” Marlene called without looking up from her own work. “Like clockwork,” she sounded half-teasing, half-annoyed.
“Predictable,” Sirius muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk there. James had covered for at least three of Sirius’s “smoke breaks” this week alone. Which really just meant that Sirius was actually lying on the roof of the building, doing absolutely nothing.
James grabbed his coat and was halfway to the stairs before anyone else could ask him for anything.
Marlene McKinnon, the receptionist at the office, called it a “routine.” Several of his coworkers at the company called it “inconvenient” because, regardless of the rest of the agenda for the day, or how overworked they were, or understaffed, James always went to lunch at exactly 12:30 pm.
The truth was a little more complicated than people thought. Everyone assumed that James Potter took his lunches at the same time every day because he was obsessive and self-centered, which was sort of true. He could be self-centered at times, but this wasn’t really a selfish decision, he reasoned to himself more than once.
It actually had to do with a girl, which sounded a bit dumb.
There was this little cafe on the corner, two blocks down from the office, called Edmund’s. It was a quaint little red brick building that served coffee and a variety of teas, as well as a daily special of sandwiches and bagels, all of which were made in-house.
That wasn’t the reason he chose that cafe, though.
There was this pretty redhead girl. To be clear, she was not one of the baristas, he wasn’t that cliche.
She was a fellow customer who showed up every day around the same time as him, as long as he took his lunch at 12:30 pm. It took James about three minutes to get from his work cubicle in the office down the two flights of stairs and then down the two blocks to the cafe every day. Five minutes if the crosswalk took longer or if someone tried to stop and chat with him on the way out of the building.
He had even talked to the girl before. Sometimes he held the door open for her if he got to the cafe at the same time as her, and she would say “Thank you,” and he would reply with the appropriate “You’re welcome.”
One time, he got to the cafe as she was leaving, and they did that awkward dance people do when trying to get through the doorway at the same time. He collided with her in what had been the most humiliating thirty seconds of his adult life. He had gone left, and she had gone right, then they had corrected at the same time twice before he’d just frozen and waved her through like an idiot.
He had meant to say something clever that day. Instead, what had come out was, “Sorry.” Groundbreaking. Truly.
I've been wanting to make this series for awhile, it's going to take me awhile to write it but chapter one is up. Marauders full 7 Years at Hogwarts.
Summary: James Potter wants a best mate. Sirius Black wants to outrun the title of heir. Remus Lupin wants to learn magic. Peter Pettigrew wants to belong. Lily Evans wants to figure out her place in the world. Severus Snape wants to prove he is worth more than the life he was born into. Regulus Black wants to be more than the spare.
Read on AO3
Excerpt from Chapter 1: The Train
A boy with long dark curls and silver eyes walked silently behind his mother and father. His father looked bored already, in that silent aristocratic way that Sirius was supposed to imitate. The false, polite interest that made him look as though standing on the platform was far beneath him. At his side, Walburga Black had dressed in robes of tasteful deep emerald with silver fastenings.
Beside the boy trotted his younger brother who was slightly shorter, with wide silver eyes as he tugged on his brother’s sleeve anxiously.
Walburga reached out and spun her oldest son to face her, inspecting him quickly with her cold gaze. She brushed out a crease on his sleeve and straightened his collar with a sharp tsking noise.
Sirius grimaced and tried to lean away from her, scowling. “Mother,” he complained to her in annoyance at her fussing.
She huffed. “You want to look presentable, don’t you?” she asked as she fixed his hair and glanced at her younger son.
Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes and he didn’t bother with an answer. The truth was, he didn’t particularly care about looking presentable. He was going off to school, not to a gala.
His mother and father had both lectured him about expectations already. Before they arrived to the station, Orion had talked about appropriate companions in Slytherin, none of that questionable sort.
His mother had reminded him that his older cousins were already in Slytherin, Narcissa Black and Andromeda Black, and they would help him with his studies and connect him to suitable students in his year. She paused to take a breath in her rant and Sirius seized his chance before she could go on for another solid ten minutes and delay him further.
“Mother,” Sirius cast another glance toward the train, “I really should get on the train now.”
Walburga glanced at the clock and stopped fussing over him. “All right then.”
Regulus ran forward then and threw his arms around his brother and Sirius heard him say, “I want to go, too!”
“You’ll go next year,” Sirius replied reasonably.
“I want to go now,” Regulus protested, sounding very much like a despondent child, reminding Sirius of when they were little. But now Sirius was just shy of twelve years old and Regulus would have to wait a whole year to go to Hogwarts with him.
Sirius heard a sharp exhale from his mother and then she scolded, “Now, really, Regulus. You’re making a scene.” Walburga pried her younger son off with a scowl of disapproval.
“I’ll write,” Sirius promised, gesturing to his brand new owl Callisto (named after Jupiter’s largest moon and his parents’ present for him going off to Hogwarts).
Orion tilted his chin to his son finally. “Remember what we’ve taught you.”
“I will.” When it came to the Black family, that was about as close as they ever got to a teary-eyed farewell.
“I’ll see you at Christmas then,” Sirius nodded to his parents.
“Come along, Regulus,” he heard his mother’s sharp commanding voice behind him. Sirius risked one glance back, enough to see his brother being shuffled along behind his parents obediently.
“They felt sick.” — Vague.
“They threw up.” — Sometimes, but not always.
Illness isn’t a switch you flip. Fever and nausea creep, spike, ebb, lie to you, then come back worse. They live in the body first, and that’s where your writing should live too.
Below, I've written a lil' cheat sheet for you. Reblog so you can come back later.
THE BODY LANGUAGE OF FEVER & NAUSEA
Skin & Temperature
Skin alternates between clammy and burning
Deep internal warmth
Sudden chills while sweating
Clothes feel wrong, either too heavy, too tight, too warm, not warm enough, etc.
Goosebumps even in a warm room
Face flushed, ears hot, neck damp
Head & Senses
Head feels pressurized or stuffed with cotton
Eyes ache when moving
Nose stuffed (on either one side, or both)
Ears ringing or deaf on one side
Lights are too bright/sharp
Sounds blur together
Food smells gross
Room feels tilted or surreal
Focus slips mid-thought
Food/water has an aftertaste
Stomach & Core
Nausea that comes in waves
Swallowing feels deliberate, effortful
Dry swallowing, dry throat—dry everything
Saliva thickens or pools suddenly
Abdomen tightens
Hunger exists but is nauseating at the same time
Body curls inward without thinking
Mouth & Throat
Tongue feels coated
Taste turns metallic, bitter, or flat
Lips dry; licking them doesn’t help
Gag reflex hair-trigger sensitive
Breathing through the mouth makes it worse
Movement & Posture
Barely any movement
Sitting becomes slouching, then curling
Standing too fast triggers instant nausea/dizziness
Hands brace on thighs, counters, walls
Feet shuffle; balance checked constantly
Body seeks cold surfaces or firm pressure
Voice & Speech
Voice dulls or drops in volume (due to plugged nose and raspy throat)
Words come slower
Sentences trail off unfinished
Irritation spikes easily (even if people are being nice)
Delayed responses
Apologies come out automatically (“Sorry. Sorry.”)
NOT ALL “SICK” FEELS THE SAME
Fever (infection-based):
Comes with chills + heat
Mental fog, slowed reaction time
Body aches feel deep, joint-based
Thirst increases, appetite drops
Sleep is restless, sweaty, unrefreshing
Colds / Flu:
More head pressure, sinus heaviness
Heavy cough, sore throat
Heavy fatigue
Fever may be mild or absent (especially colds)
Chronic Illness Flares:
Pain is familiar but still intense
Less panic, more resigned
Symptoms stack (fatigue + nausea + pain)
Character may ration movement and speech
Recovery expectations are lower
Menstrual Cramps:
Pain pulses rhythmically
Heat helps
Nausea tied to motion and smell
Sensitive emotions (more prone to snapping, saying things they regret)
Body feels heavy
Stress-Induced Nausea:
No fever, no chills
Jaw tension, shallow breathing
Nausea spikes during stillness
Relief when distracted or moving
These differences matter. They change how a character reacts, not just how they feel.
So yeah, hope that helps. You don't need vomiting on the page every time. Sometimes being sick is feeling off-key, or sometimes it's quiet recovery. It varies. The symptoms are one part of your story, the rest is up to characterization and plot. Why is illness relevant to your story? Why is this character sick, and how is it different from another character? You can have a lot of fun with this.
Written by a human with a headache and too much experience lying very still, hoping it passes. If you liked this post, buy me a coffee... or cough medicine. 😔