@jilymicro-oops , 1.332 words, rated T, jily microfics prompt 12: drunk
a corner of the common room
by allrightevanss1123 on ao3
“You already had a chance once— and you totally wasted it!”
Lily reached out and took another sip from the glass in front of her. Her head was spinning; she was certain that if she finished her glass, she would experience temporary (at least, she hoped it would be temporary) blindness in her left eye. Maybe filling her glass to the brim with firewhisky hadn't been a good idea. But she hadn't been able to enjoy firewhisky properly ever since two months ago, when the cauldron she had used for six and a half years suddenly cracked in the middle of a potions class and ruined all her financial planning. When she ignored the fact that James Potter himself financed all the drinks at Gryffindor parties, nothing else could match the taste of the drinks she had—which didn't cost her a single penny.
“What do you mean?” Potter laughed. He was trying to act as if nothing was wrong — but his cheeks, too, were flushed bright red, and his eyes were dreamy, as if he had just woken up from sleep. For the past half hour, he had been taking small sips from the same whisky, which at the very beginning had been poured only two fingers thick, trying to swirl and mix the drink inside the glass as if that would lessen its effect. “Wait— Evans, what do you mean I had a chance.”
"Whatever you understood by it," she grumbled, taking another sip. If Potter were to take a sip as large as hers, he would have already finished his entire glass in one go. Whenever she witnessed men’s, but especially James Potter’s, intolerance to alcohol, she felt a pressure rising from her chest, and her lips stretched into a smirk. James Potter was a head taller than Lily, his arms thick enough to cause his shirt to tighten around his biceps, his shoulders broad enough that if Lily were to be picked up and placed there, they wouldn't collapse under the weight of her legs. Right.
It wasn't that Lily was thinking about his shoulders, but despite all of that, she found it funny that throughout the entire night, he hadn't even consumed as much drink as she had downed within the first hour. The fact that his cheeks were flushed, that he had started blinking his eyes frequently as if trying to show off to Lily with his long eyelashes, that the smirk he had spent the whole day glued to his face had already turned into a relaxed, almost sappy smile, that ten minutes ago he had lost his posture and started sitting hunched over… Him having an answer for everything Lily said.
Having an answer for everything Lily said?
“Don’t say sorry, tell me when it was and what exactly happened?” When Potter leaned a bit closer to her, his aftershave tickled Lily's nose, but it couldn't be said that she was complaining.
She blinked while looking at Potter. Even before she could find the willpower in herself to realize what was coming out of her mouth, she said, “When we were little.” She took another sip from her drink. “Like, when we were absolute infants. Second year, the beginning— probably. You see, I was actually quite fond of you, when you played your first Quidditch match. I like the hair ruffling quite a lot, wrote you—” Lily’s tongue wasn’t moving inside her mouth exactly the way she wanted it to, and as she tried to speak, saliva was pooling in her mouth. Swallowing with difficulty while trying not to giggle at Potter’s wide, astonished eyes, she finished, “a bloody love letter— then burned it with my wand because you also annoyed me soo much too.”
“So—” said Potter, speaking slower than usual. This was bad for their image—both heads being drunk at the same time. “You fancied me? Back then, did you?”
Lily shook her head, but within a second decided never to do that again—shaking her head made it feel as though her brain had suddenly shrunk and was crashing against the walls of her skull with every movement. “But it’s not that big of a deal,” she muttered. She hoped she would still remember the scent she caught as she breathed in and out when she woke up sober in the morning—because Potter actually smelled good, and Lily wanted to know exactly what it was that smelled so good. To tell her father. Wizards used different ingredients in their perfumes; Lily wanted to know, no matter whose perfume it was. “It’s not surprising for a 12-year-old girl to start liking the first boy doing cool moves on a broom— also you’ve always been decent looking, hair helps it too.”
Potter narrowed his eyes. “You like my hair?”
“Well, my dad is bald— so—” she tried to take another sip from her glass but didn't find what she was looking for. It was empty—and she had already finished the bottle she had brought over to this corner of the common room. Her eyes caught on Potter’s glass, on the single sip of drink left inside it, and on how small the glass looked in Potter’s hand.
“Jesus— your hand is fucking huge.” she muttered; her actual intention when opening her mouth was to ask for a sip of his drink and chug it, but the expression on Potter’s face was funny enough to prevent any regret she might feel. “No wonder you got the Quidditch cup twice, back to back— could you also grab a Quaffle like that?”
Potter suddenly looked at her face, his eyes fixed on Lily’s eyes—and started giggling. As he laughed, his chest shook with his giggles, and he threw his head back— oh and he had an Adam’s apple, yeah. “You think so?” he said, holding his hand that wasn't holding the glass between the two of them as if it were something to be examined. “I’m not sure it’s really that big, though, you want to compare hand sizes?”
“Ew— no— I don’t want to touch it. I saw you rubbing Sirius’s calves earlier.”
“Okay— okay— don’t touch it,” Potter said immediately. “Just— let’s keep it side by side, alright? Then, you can see if it’s really big at all.” He gripped the couch cushion Lily was sitting on and, in a single motion, pulled it next to him until their shoulders began to touch. His skin was warm even beneath their robes, and his shoulders looked even broader from this close. Despite Potter’s tall height, if he were to slouch a bit in his seat and pull his knees toward himself, they were at just the right height for her to rest her head on them.
Instead, Lily leaned her head against the wall behind her. Leaving the glass in her hand aside, she tilted her head slightly toward Potter's hand, closing and opening her fingers once before bringing her hand next to his.
Lily wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting, but seeing both of their hands side by side surprised her nonetheless. Potter’s hand really was big too. On Potter’s long, calloused fingers, there were a few rednesses left over from the match, and a thin bandage wrapped around one of the knuckles on his pinky. The length of Lily’s entire hand was only a little longer than Potter’s pinky—all of Potter’s fingers were twice as thick as Lily’s. Lily swallowed once more.
It was strange, actually, because she hadn't spoken—but before she could even question what was happening again, the top of her tongue filled up with a mouthful of saliva once more.
And then, along with all the drinks she had consumed up until now—which, if she exaggerated the proportions a bit, could even amount to two bottles—she vomited everything she had eaten at dinner right onto their hands hovering side by side.
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