like iâm picturing him being really careful and looking at it and carrying it exactly like this while walking or riding through the woods and across rivers and up mountains and through valleys and he doesnât drop it even once except at the very end where he tidily drops it into the volcano. frodo sam and the crew and even gollum wholly undisturbed. sauron canât find him bc of the meditative aura surrounding him which is generated by his immense focus on not dropping it
Try as she might, Lily couldnât bring herself to care about the masquerade. It was sure to be a fabulous spectacle, but lately it had all felt like something she watched through a spotty window pane, a thick veil, something that was real and yet not real to her. Not in a way that could touch her. No whining trombone could shake her into a fit of excitement.Â
Boring as she might sound, an evening in was the best reward. And a Roaring Twenties bash on campus sucked away time from her favored activities â the ones that actually relaxed her â of reading or lounging on the sofa eating Nutella and apples while Nick whined from the ottoman. Nick never believed he got his share - apples only of course. One bite for her, three bites for him, that was fair in his wide, pleading, puppy eyes.Â
Aside from the fact that it would take up entirely too much of her time and stress her more than deadlines on her thesis, sheâd spend the entire evening somehow both bored and in fight or flight mode. Not that she canât have a good time with others â its just if sheâs in the mood for a trip back in time, she prefers a good episode of Miss Fisher or a bit of investigation with good old AgathaâŚmaybe she needs murder relax?
Regardless, trying to find an authentic costume that fits, buying a ticket, and the lead up and the recoup. Too too much even if Marlene calls her an old lady. Sheâs decided itâs a compliment. Old ladies know what they do and donât want and they arenât afraid to speak up about it.
And what does Lily want? Cheeseburger and loaded chips.
And what is Lily too cheap to order with the added delivery charge? You guessed it.
So she gives Nick a last bit of apple which he crunches with relish before she tucks the Nutella back in the cupboard, notes the bareness of it overall, and decides sheâs definitely motivated enough to brave the elements in pursuit of a burger.
Nick eyes her distrustfully as she moves about the flat, readying to brave the streets in pursuit of greasy deliciousness. She canât bring herself to resist the look today, so when sheâs pulling on her trainers she locks eyes with him. âNick would you - ,â she pauses as his ears perk, âLike to go out?â
A question which, as expected, instigates a bout of the zoomies for the record books. When he skids to a halt at her feet, little chest heaving, Lily leans down and gives him a peck on the head. âLet's get you ready to go.â
Itâs not far, they put a bit of avocado on her burger so she feels healthy, and they have little pup burgers too. She only gets one for Nick on special occasions, or when he looks particularly cute. Which is a very official, almost scientific determination.
Itâs not too dark yet, thanks to the longer summer days, and so she and Nick enjoy a quick walk a few blocks down chit chatting about how delicious their snack is going to be. When she mentions the âpup burgerâ by name, he licks his chops and tightens up his little walk. Heâd run if she let him.
Soon enough, the bell is jangling over the door and Nick is leading the way to the queue. Thereâs another customer in line and Nick definitely wants to sniff his sneakers, but heâs a good boy, so one short tug at his lead and heâs sitting close to her side with his nostrils flaring in interest.
While sheâs mid internal debate about a milkshake splurge, the customer in front of her turns around and sheâs briefly bewildered by his annoyingly attractive face. Which gets more annoying when he grins at her and then turns the smile toward Nick. âWho is this little cutie?â
Her precious little boy looks at her as if to say âwell, introduce me,â so she smiles, âNick.â
âHas Nick tried the pup burgers here?â
As if in an attempt to answer, Nick lets out a little squeak and squares his stance. Like standing more perfectly will impact Lilyâs answer.
âThatâs actually half of our mission here. I canât bring him here unless heâs getting something too.â
âQuite cruel if you do,â the lovely stranger says with a chuckle, âCould I treat the little gent to his supper?â
âA bit forward of you.â
âHeâs the one bearing his undercarriage for pets,â the stranger shoots back, squatting down to scratch at Nickâs belly. âHowâd you like a pup burger, mate?â
As if in answer, Nick flops his tongue out and bats one paw miming more pets. Nickâs new best mate grins up at Lily, âI think he says âyesâ.â
âSo much for âloyalty of a fine dogâ,â Lily grumbles as she fights a smile, âNow if you two lovebirds could place your order Iâm still famished and no closer to satisfaction.â
âCan I take care of that too?â
Lily nearly chokes on her own tongue as the disgustingly good-looking, generous, good with dogs bloke stands up, waiting for her response.
But sheâs no push over, even before Adonis himself, so she leans in close, âNo, I donât know that you can.â
He deflates a bit, but before he can back away, she grabs his lapel, âNot without a name.â
Thank you to all our fabulous participating authors this year! We can now reveal who created which work:
Deerstalker by @annabtg
Evidence by @sophie-hatter-jenkins
A Portrait of a Young Family by @tedwardremus
the sign of four by @neverenoughmarauders
self preservation of a goldfish by @sapphireleo
quiet and loud by @exalthia (Rebeccaseal)
Be sure to go and give each of these authors some love on their fics!
A huge round of applause goes to @merlinsbbeard, neverenoughmarauders, SapphireLeo, annabtg, and sophie-hatter-jenkins for a clean sweep of correct guesses! No one could hide from you clever detectives đľď¸
Instead of being in settings its in the google app. Also, google, not chrome. Icon is a G, not the circle thing. Click on your pfp to open a menu
From there, go Settings > Gemini > Digital Assistants > Switch to Google Assistant. This disables Gemini, google's AI assistant, and switches you back to the old one. We aren't done yet.
Go back to Settings. From there, we go Settings > Google Assistant > scroll to find General > Google Assitant on/off > turn it off
They really tried their best to make it a pain, but you can eventually disable it. Holding the power button on your phone still pulls up a menu and asks you to turn it back on, but this is the least intrusive you can make it.
Applies to all non-apple phones afaik. For sure Samsungs and Pixels but idrk about others
Edit: thank you my friend @/teeth-kid for confirming that this also works on Motorola
There really really ought to be a book about how the staple crops of different civilizations shape and influence those civilizations, and I really want to read it.
Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky and A History of the World in 6 Glasses by Tom Standage (three are alcohol, three have caffeine) are not quite that, but may still be of interest?
I read Salt back in the day and it's so so good, second the rec. I have heard of 6 Glasses and not read it but I am sure I would probably love it. Gotta see if the library has it. Thank you!
A Short History Of The World According To Sheep by Sally Coulthard blew my mind. So many things are tied to wool and sheep and weaving and so many words and phrases are tied to wool, people have no idea.
Example words which come from textiles/weaving, if not specifically wool (go look them up!): subtle, shoddy, tabby, Brazil, rocket, twit, warped, going batty, on tenterhooks, text...
I'll throw in a rec for Pickled, Potted, and Canned by Sue Shephard - a very interesting look at food preservation and how the availability of different types of food preservation shaped cultures and cuisines.
The Lost Supper: Searching for the Future of Food in the Flavors of the Past might also be up your alley. It's about "forgotten" foods and staples. They talk about different types of wheat, sauces, veggies, etc and a little about the cultures from whence they come
DO I HAVE A SERIES FOR YOU. University of California Press has a gift for you and it is a 80+ book series on food studies. There are even some that are open access (legally free), but the rest are in libraries.
I also highly recommend Frostbite by Nicola Twilley. Itâs about the impact refrigeration has had/is having on food preservation and culture, globally. It was one of my favorite books of this last year.
Can't believe no one's mentioned Consider the Fork yet, which is about how environment/resources shape our ways of eating, which shapes both our culture and our concepts of politeness. So interesting, really recommend!
What kind of abuse do you think Harry experienced at the Dursley's? Do you think it was more emotional or physical abuse. We know he was abuse physically when he states that he got good at ducking to avoid Vernon.
Do you think there was any kind adult in Harry's life before the age of 11 (besides Mrs. Figg)? Do you think he had any kind teachers?
I believe it was more emotional than physical; i don't think they hit him very much but yes they treated him roughly (head smacking, holding him tightly, throwing things at him)
Nina Norton had wanted to be a teacher since she was seven years old.
She'd told everyone. Her mum, her dad, her nan who smelled like lavender and always listened. She'd practiced on her stuffed animals, lining them up on her bedroom floor, giving them gold stars cut from wrapping paper. She'd meant it the way children mean things â completely, without condition.
At twenty-three, with her first real classroom and thirty laminated name tags and a display wall she'd stayed until eight o'clock on a Sunday to get right, she still meant it.
She believed in children. She believed in what you could do for them if you paid attention. That was the thing, she thought. Most people just didn't pay attention.
Nina paid attention.
***
She noticed Harry Potter on the third day.
Not the first â the first day was chaos, small bodies everywhere, someone crying because they wanted their mum, someone else crying because they didn't want to sit next to Tyler, and Nina moving through it all like she was conducting something, keeping her voice warm and steady even when she didn't feel it.
Not the second day either. The second day she noticed Eliza Payne had nits and she had to manage that quietly, diplomatically, without Eliza knowing she'd noticed.
But the third day, during free drawing, she noticed Harry.
He was sitting slightly apart from the others â not excluded, exactly, just... positioned that way, like he'd chosen it himself and expected no one to question it. His jumper was grey and enormous on him, the sleeves rolled up multiple times and still pooling at his wrists. He was small for six. All angles, somehow, even at six â sharp little shoulders, a watchful face under a mess of black hair.
He was drawing. Not the house-and-sun-and-stick-family that most of them drew. He was drawing a snake in very careful, deliberate lines, giving it scales one by one.
Nina crouched down next to him. "That's brilliant," she said, and meant it.
He looked up at her â and that was the thing she'd remember later, when she was going over it all. He didn't smile the way children smiled at praise. He looked at her first. Assessed her. Like he was checking whether she meant it.
Then, apparently satisfied, he looked back at his drawing. "Snakes are good," he said. "They don't bother you if you don't bother them."
Nina didn't know what to say to that. She gave him a sticker â a gold star, the shiny kind â and moved on.
At the end of the day she found it on the corner of his desk, left behind. She told herself he'd just forgotten it. She picked it up and kept it anyway.
***
His cousin was in the class next door.
She knew this because on the fourth day, at lunch, she heard Dudley Dursley before she saw him â a large, loud boy orbited by two others, the three of them moving through the lunch queue with the confidence of people who had never once been told no. She recognized Harry's address and gurdian details on the register and put it together.
She watched Dudley take someone's pudding. The dinner lady looked away.
She looked for Harry. Found him at the end of a table, eating methodically, alone, his tray half-empty in a way that suggested his portion had started that way, not that he'd left anything. He wasn't watching Dudley. He was watching the door.
***
By the third week she had a list in her head, though she hadn't written it down yet.
The jumper â always too big, always the same one or one exactly like it, worn at the elbows.
The shoes â trainers that didn't fit properly, the left one split at the toe.
The way he ate at lunch. Quickly. Neatly. Like someone who had learned not to draw attention to hunger.
The bruise on his forearm that he'd said was from falling. Which it might have been. Children fell.
The way he flinched â just slightly, just a small tightening â when she raised her voice at the class for something. She'd stopped raising her voice after she noticed that. She told herself it was good pedagogy. She knew it wasn't only that.
He was quiet. Not the shyness of children who wanted to speak and couldn't â she knew that kind, she'd been that kind. This was something else. He chose his words. He watched before he moved. He was careful in a way that no six-year-old should have had to learn yet.
But he was brilliant. That was the thing that kept catching her off guard. His reading was years ahead. When she did maths on the board he'd already done it in his head and was waiting, patient, for the others to catch up. He'd ask questions that made her pause â real questions, not showing-off questions. How can airplanes stay up if theyâre so heavy? If the Earth is spinning, why donât we fall off?
He wanted to know things. Despite everything she was quietly beginning to suspect, he still looked at the world like it might have answers worth finding.
She found that almost unbearable, somehow. The hope in it.
***
She went to Cora Meyers in week four.
Cora was the year three teacher, had been at St. Giles Primary for nineteen years, knew every family in a two-mile radius. If anyone would know about the Dursleys, it was Cora.
"Harry Potter," Nina said, in the staffroom, keeping her voice low. "Year one. Do you know anything about his home situation?"
Cora looked up from her marking. Something crossed her face â recognition, and then a kind of practiced neutrality. "Potter," she said. "Yes. He was flagged a few years back, I think. I was not his teacher, but I've heard."
"Flagged how?"
"Oh, you know. Concern was raised." Cora said it the way you said things that hadn't gone anywhere. "Nothing came of it. The Dursleys are very..." She paused. "Respectable. The mother keeps a very clean house."
Nina looked at her. "He comes in hungry."
"Children that age are always hungry."
"His clothes don't fit."
"Some families have less money, Nina." Cora said. Not unkindly. Patiently. The way you spoke to someone young.
"He flinches whenâ"
"He's a troubled boy." Cora said it simply, like she was offering a diagnosis. "I taught his cousin last year. Very different child. Harry's always been a bit..." She made a vague gesture. "You'll find your footing with him. They're not all easy ones."
Nina was not convinced but smiled. Said thank you. Took her mug back to her classroom.
Troubled boy. She sat with that for a long time. Turned it over. Looked at it from different angles, the way Harry looked at things, like there might be an answer in it somewhere.
Troubled like it was something he'd done. Something he'd arrived with, packaged and sealed, nothing to do with where he slept or what he ate or whose house he went home to.
She didn't go back to Cora after that.
***
She called social services on a Tuesday in November.
She'd written notes by then. Actual notes, in a small notebook she kept in her cardigan pocket â dates, observations, specific things. The split shoe. The lunch. The flinch. The Tuesday in October when he'd come in with a mark on the back of his hand he couldn't explain and looked at the floor when she asked.
She had it all written down. She was prepared. She was calm.
She picked up the phone in the empty staffroom and dialed.
And thenâ
She stood there for a moment with the receiver in her hand, the dial tone going, and she thought: what am I going to say, exactly?
She knew what she was going to say. She had it in the notebook. But the thought slid away from her strangely, like trying to hold water, and she found herself thinking about her lesson plan for Wednesday, the shapes unit, whether she had enough of the orange cardâ
She put the phone down.
She stood very still. She picked it up again. Dialed.
His shoes don't fit, she thought, very deliberately. He flinches. He ate half a lunch in October because someone hadâ
The thought went sideways again. Softly, like a hand guiding her away from something. Wednesday. Orange card. The shapes.
She put the phone down.
She was shaking slightly, she realized. That was strange. She didn't feel frightened. She feltâ redirected. Like a river that had been turned.
She tried four more times that afternoon. Once she got through to a recorded message and opened her mouth to speak and simply couldn't remember why she'd called. Once she sat down to write a formal letter of concern and wrote three words and then got up to water the classroom plants, which didn't need watering.
The last time, she stood at the phone with her notebook open in her hand, the specific page, Harry's name at the top, and she read each entry out loud to herself quietly, like an incantation.
She said: "Hello, I'm calling to raise a concern about a childâ"
And then she was sitting at her desk with her coat on and her bag in her lap and it was five-fifteen and the school was empty and she didn't know how she'd gotten there. The notebook was in her pocket. She checked. His name was still there, all the entries, her own handwriting.
She sat in the empty classroom for a long time.
On his desk, in the front row â he always chose the front, another thing she'd noted, easiest to see the board, farthest from the door â there was a drawing he'd left. A forest, done in pencil, with tremendous patience. Hundreds of tiny careful trees.
In the middle of the forest there was a small figure. She had to squint to see it. It wasn't doing anything. It was just standing in the trees, very small, looking out.
Nina Norton put the drawing in her notebook, between his pages.
She went home. She told herself she would try again tomorrow. She would find a way around whatever this was â whatever kept redirecting her, whatever kept turning the river. She would try again.
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Letâs spread the self-love đ
Kelsey â¤ď¸ my tumblr notifications apparently arenât working because Iâve only just seen this, and maybe it was meant to be because Iâm v much in the trenches of *waves vaguely at brain* atm so a bit of enforced self-love is probably what the dr ordered. #jfcgettothepointcer
This took over 71 hours according to procreate (over the span of multiple months, because I kept putting it of), which is crazy. I donât think Iâve ever spent this much time on a single pice of art
Written for May @jilymicrofics
Prompt: Investigate
Word Count: 705
She walked into my office at a quarter past three, right in the middle of one of those rare London spring afternoons when the sky forgot how to be grey. Sunlight poured through the grimy windows and baked the little room above a potions shop until the air turned thick enough to chew. My office sat buried in the back alleys off Diagon Alley, where the dust never settled and the neighbors minded your business harder than their own.
Then she opened the door.
A cool breeze swept in with her, carrying the scent of mowed grass and leather. Her hair was redânot the soft kind of red you read about in romance novels, but the dangerous kind, like a warning flare at sea. And her eyesâgreen as deep waterâcaught me square in the chest and pulled like a riptide. Iâd seen plenty of trouble walk through that door before, but trouble rarely looked this good.
âI need your help, Detective.â
No hesitation. No polite introductions. She crossed the room fast enough to stir the papers on my desk and planted herself in front of me like she owned the place.
I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette Iâd already promised myself I wouldnât smoke.
âI take it this isnât a social call.â
âA person is missing.â
âA person you know?â
âMy sister.â Her voice cracked on the word. âThe Muggle police have been useless. Please, Detective Potter. I need you.â
That stopped me for half a second.
âIf this concerns a Muggle,â I said carefully, âthereâs not much I can do. Ministry regulations. We keep to magical matters and let Muggles drown in their own mysteries.â
Her face hardened so quickly it couldâve cut glass.
âA woman is missing, and youâre refusing to help?â she snapped. âI heard stories about the famous Detective James Potter. Noble. Brave. Selfless.â She laughed bitterly. âFunny thing about reputationsâthey never survive meeting the real man.â
The words landed harder than I cared to admit.
âI know next to nothing about the Muggle world,â I said. âI wouldnât even know where to start.â
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag.
âWhat if a wizard took her?â
That made the room feel smaller.
âDid one?â
She opened her mouth, then stopped. Whatever nerve had carried her through my door finally gave out. She sank into the chair across from my deskâthe one my partner usually occupied when he wasnât off chasing stolen heirlooms or interrogating shady goblinsâand buried her face in her hands.
Then came the tears.
Thatâs the thing nobody tells you about detective work. The bodies donât stay with you. The blood doesnât either. What stays are the tears. Especially when they belong to a beautiful woman who looks at you like youâre the last light left in the world.
I grabbed my handkerchief from the desk drawer and knelt beside her chair.
âEasy now, Miss,â I said softly. âDry your eyes and start from the beginning.â
âYou donât understand, Detective.â Her shoulders trembled. âItâs all my fault.â
âThat your sister disappeared?â
She looked up at me then. Mascara streaked beneath her eyes like wet ink dragged across a painting.
âNo,â she whispered. âThat I ever believed Severus Snape was my friend.â
The name hit me like bad whiskey.
A cold shiver crawled down my spineânot fear, nothing so simple as that. Disgust. Iâd heard the name before. Too many times. Snape had a habit of turning up wherever decent people ended up dead, ruined, or missing. Low-life operators like him always think theyâre the smartest men in the room. Usually, right up until somebody plants them in the ground.
I stood slowly and moved behind my desk.
âNow, MissâŚâ
âLily,â she said quietly.
âLily.â I nodded. âIâm going to get you a glass of water. Youâre going to sit here, catch your breath, and tell me exactly how a woman like you came to know a man like Severus Snape.â
I reached for my wand.
âAnd after that,â I said, âIâm going to find your sister.â
Her eyes met mine againâstill green, still dangerous, but softer now. Hope can do strange things to a face.
âThank you, Mr. Potter,â she whispered. âThank you.â
"Oh, James..." she sighed. "You're a terminal optimist."
"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked, and nodded towards the wild Scottish landscape before them. "Look where we are. And what we've got. Less than one ten thousandth of the population has magical abilities, and we're in it."
***
January of '78. Lily wins a battle, and James wins a war.
FISH QUIZZZZ!!! FISH QUIZZZ!!!! TAKE IT!!! special request from my friend avery shoutout avery <3 it's right up my alley anyways... im so jellyfish coded !!
includes both freshwater and saltwater creatures, with 18 questions and 36 creatures!! interested in more quizzes? find me at @sashasactivit
âHuh?â Harry said in a way that made it obvious to Ginny he had not heard what she had asked him.
âWhat are you holding that has you concentrating so hard? An obsessive note from a Rita Skeeter admirer?â she teased, settling onto the sofa.
Harry still stood in the middle of the sitting room, one hand tangled in his hair, the other holding a slightly crumpled envelope, unmistakably Muggle with the stamps on the front. The sort that had never once found its way to their home before.
âItâs a birthday card,â he said, a little distantly.
âThat makes sense,â Ginny replied lightly. âGo on, pin it up with the rest.â
Harry didnât move. His gaze remained fixed on the card, as though it might vanish if he looked away.
âItâs from my cousin,â he said.
Ginny stilled. âYour cousin? Dudley?â
âI only have the one.â
âHarry?â
He looked up at last, drawn out of that faraway stare as Ginny reached over and touched his arm. âYeah?â
âThatâs⌠nice,â she said gently. âThat he sent a card.â
Harry let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. âI didnât even know he knew I had a birthday.â
Ginny tilted her head. âWhat did he write?â
Harry glanced back down at the card. âHappy Birthday.â
.âWell,â Ginny said, a smile tugging at her lips, âthatâs certainly concise.â
Harry huffed softly, then added, almost as an afterthought, âHe wants me to visit.â
Ginnyâs expression shifted. âDoes he? He wants you to go to Privet Drive?â
Harry shook his head faintly. âNo. Heâs got his own place now. Moved out.â
Ginnyâs eyebrows lifted. âWellâgood for him. I bet his mum still drops off cooked meals and clean laundry, though.â
But Harry didnât answer.
Her voice faded somewhere behind him, drowned out by the sudden, sharp pull of memory. Piles of presents stacked high for Dudleyâbright paper, ribbons, more every year than the last. The noise, the fuss, the way the whole house seemed to revolve around him.
Harry also remembered the quiet. Long days that passed like any other, no different, no marked moment to set them apart. No cards. No cake. No one saying the words.
He remembered primary school, a chart pinned to the wall with every studentâs birthday written in careful, looping handwriting. Heâd stood there longer than he meant to, scanning the list until he found his own name next to the date, July 31st.
That had been the first time heâd known his birthday. But summer meant empty classrooms, meant no one there to notice, no desk with a card waiting, no offhand âhappy birthdayâ from a classmate or teacher. Just another day slipping by, unremarked.
âBecause⌠I think itâs what I want, you know. Just enjoy a low-stakes fling.â His friends shared a look. âIâm serious,â he added.
âJames ââ Remusâ brow was crinkled.
âWhat if we bet on it?â
A Jily AU with some sprinkles of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
Happy first day of Shirtless James Potter May! Read Chapter 10 HERE.
Never Have I Felt This (WIP, 97.6k as of 30 April 2026) by @sidlarsson. Rated M.
âYou know Iâm mad about you,â I said, my voice textured. âIâfuck, Evans, I know itâs obvious. It's bloody obvious. I want to go out with you. I want you to go out with me.â
Â
After a long pause, in which I sucked in and then licked my lips, but she still hadn't said anything, I urged in a quieter tone, âGo on⌠go out with me.â
Hogwarts fic - James Potter POV where he's an asshole, but disastrously and completely head-over-heels in love with Lily Evans.
Mystery Of Love (WIP, 21.1k as of 30 April 2026) by @versipellis21. Rated T.
A story of Lily Evans' life from the week she got the letter that would change her life forever up to the moment she died.
Following her teenage years at Hogwarts, as she finds a new family within the walls of the castle to make up for the loss of her old one, the struggles of growing from girl to woman in a world she doesnât feel like belonging in, as the beginnings of a war creep up on her, making friendships to last until the end of time, and learning to return the love of the boy who loved too much, the unexpected pregnancy in the middle of the war she had got caught up in, and how her fierce love for her son would change it all.
Beneath the Beech Trees (WIP, 14k as of 30 April 2026), by @missgryffin. Rated E.
Itâs always been like that, her and James. Heated; a little toxic; more than a little crazy. Maybe, this time, theyâll finally figure it out.
Must Love Dogs (WIP, 10.8k as of 30 April 2026) by @petalsonparchment. Rated T.
Before heading off to a lecture at university, James Potter leaves his Labrador retriever, Padfoot, locked inside the flat. Unfortunately for James, Padfoot soon grows dreadfully bored and teaches himself how to slide open the front bolt. Naturally, this results in an entirely unsanctioned adventure beyond the flat. Out in the world he meets Lily Evans, a sharp-witted English student who quickly wins him over with biscuits, praise, and the sort of attention any self-respecting Labrador (and, frankly, James Potter) would find utterly irresistible.
Confessions on the Quidditch Pitch (completed, 3.8k) by @jilyyall. Rated T.
James Potter is a right fool, but Lily Evans knows just what to do with him.
Kiss All The Time (What If All I Need Is You?) (WIP, 22.1k as of 30 April 2026) by @wearingaberetinparis. Rated M.
âBecause⌠I think itâs what I want, you know. Just enjoy a low-stakes fling.â His friends shared a look. âIâm serious,â he added.
âJames ââ Remusâ brow was crinkled.
âWhat if we bet on it?â
A Jily AU with some sprinkles of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
Donât Make Me Over (completed, 1.3K) by @deadlysansa. Rated G.
James kisses Lily without thinking. Seventh Year Jily drabble.
Penguin (completed, c300 words) by @sapphireleo. Rated T.
"Will you be my penguin?"
"Will I be your what?"
"My penguin."
Jilytober Vignettes (oneshot collection, 51k as of 30 April 2026) by @siriuslysnuffles. Not rated.
A series of canon-compliant vignettes about James and Lily being hopelessly in love (or completely in denial about it).
Choice (Caution to the Wind) (completed, 5.2k) by @kay-elle-cee. Rated E.
âItâs justâŚâ When she speaks again, her voice is softer. Itâs tired, but not absent of a sharp quality to it. âBetween the war and the MinistryâŚI miss feeling like I had a choice. I sometimes feel like things just happen and all I can do is react.â
Or: Lily finds a small way to take her life into her own hands.
Little Boys and Their Lost Loves (completed, 8.7k) by PensivePensieve. Rated T.
Although he was only eleven years old, James Potter knew at first sight that the red headed girl was someone he had to stay far away from.
The fuss about kissing (completed, 1.1k) by @exalthia. Rated T.
In which James finds it inexcusable that Lily thinks she doesn't like kissing and offers to show her what she's been missing.
A Hostage Situation (completed, 2.5k) by @formerlympp. Rated G.
Lily learns that magic cannot cure every possible ailment, but her boyfriend certainly can.
Sundress (completed, c850 words) by @missgryffin. Rated M.
James seeing Lily in a sundress for the first time
In the Comfort of Your Arms (completed, 1.7k) by @jilyyall. Rated T.
After a very bad week, Lily Evans finds herself unable to sleep, and the only person that can possibly offer her any peace is fast asleep in his own dormitory where she is definitely not allowed, especially not in the middle of the night. Good thing the Head Girl isn't too fussed about following the rules.
Christmases When You Were Mine (completed, 4.9k) by @harryissuchalittleshit. Rated T.
Lily misses the train to go home for the Christmas holidays and finds herself stuck with James and Sirius for the next two weeks. In that time she comes to change her opinion about the pair of boys, but especially one James Potter.
Sixth Year AU
Also check out the previous months' lists: January | February | March
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