#blarg writes things

[gryffindormischief]

university

@jilymicrofics

“So you did go to university?”

Lily sighs and takes a fortifying sip of her cola which is unfortunately not spiked. Loosening her tongue with alcohol is in no one’s best interest right now. “Yes. Generally required before getting a  PhD.”

“Oh so similar to my MBA then?” After today, this bloke will cease to be called by any name other than Insufferable MBA Bloke. It is law. Also she was going to kill the rest of the Theatre Fun Club.

“Right - my Masters in International Studies would be similar to the process for your Masters in Business Administration. Then I completed my PhD - so Franny really isn’t coming?”

MBA grins in a way Lily knows he’s practiced in front of a mirror. It’s like he watched hours of tick ticks to discover his ‘attractive’ angles and somehow landed on the ultimate douche. “She had to leave at intermission. The sitter called. Gwen is sick.”

He’s still doing what he probably thinks is flirtatious smiling, an odd choice when talking about a five year old being ill. “Ah. And the rest? I asked them to clean up the eight top over in the corner.”

“Nah we won’t need it.” His brow flicks up and Lily really wants to ask if this normally works for him. It feels like it shouldn’t. She wants to hold an intervention with those who have fallen for this shtick. It’s awful.

She’s still searching for something to say, a way to blow off Caroline’s cousin without ruining Theatre Fan Club, when the pub door slams open and James Potter appears in a swirl of the snow that had been threatening to fall all afternoon and jingle bells. Literally. 

He’s wearing bells strung around his shoulders and sewn into his knit cap. He’s got a few mates with him, similarly festive, and his eyes are searching the bar, likely for a place to sit. But before he finds anything - his gaze lands on Lily.

Lily who looks like she’s on a bloody date. She may actually kill Theatre Club and not even be sorry. Quickly, she slips from her stool and pulls her drink with her. MBA tries to follow but she’s ignoring him as James stomps the snow from his boots. “Dr. Evans!”

“Professor Potter.”

“Oi I’m a PhD candidate,” James shoots back with a grin as he strides toward her and wraps her in a slightly awkward hug given the bells. Still he doesn’t release her until whispers in her ear, “Am I blowing a date or is this a hostage situation?”

Lily grips his sleeve and whispers back, “Bloody hell definitely hostage.”

“Not to worry Evans. I have many years of experience. Your evening is now in my hands.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Lily complains, though she’s definitely not upset about the turn of events. Not at all.

James grabs her hand and pulls her to the now clean eight top, his mates following behind and MBA sort of caught up in James’s orbit, like most people. “But it does sound fun, eh?”

[gryffindormischief]

social media

A/N: this counts as Jily, yes?

@jilymicrofics

Lily Evans liked your photo  

James is mid doom scroll when the notification pops up and his brain, previously dulled by the blue light of said doom school shorts out.

He spends an indeterminate but probably absurd amount of time staring at the entry on his notifications list, somewhere between panic and absolute glee at the idea that Lily Evans is poking around on his Instagram. 

Eventually, he decides to follow the link so he can determine which photo struck her fancy. Maybe the one with Sirius’s new puppy - he looks relatively fit and it conveys his cuddly soft side which Peter says girls like. 

Or maybe it’s that post work out one from last week that makes him glad his mum isn’t on Instagram to comment and say he looks too skinny and needs to hydrate if he’s sweating so much. She doesn’t need to be - after twenty five years of life, he had the conversation in the first seconds after he took the photo.

With slightly trembling fingers he taps the link and his previous cheery nervousness turns to absolute mortification. Normally your crush liking a photo from four years ago is a beautiful moment. Instead it’s the worst possible case scenario. Shit.

Quickly, he swipes to call Sirius and doesn’t even let him finish whatever greeting was coming before he blurts, “SHE SAW THE PERM PICTURE,” James takes a steadying breath and now his voice is eerily calm. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Why did you even leave that one up?”

“Because I am bad at the internet. I tried to delete a picture once and almost deleted my whole account.”

“A tragedy.”

“I have all the cute puppy post saved.”

Sirius sighs and James can imagine he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like their chem professor used to, “Why are you calling me?”

“You’re the one who convinced me it was a good idea.”

The laugh that comes from Sirius spikes James’s heart-rate. He needs to punch something. Or eat something crunchy. “You’re the one who believed me for two weeks.”

He fumes for a second and pulls a bag of stale pretzel rods from the pantry. “How am I going to bounce back from this?”

“Say it was a wig,” Sirius says in that ‘your problem is a non-problem stop boring me’ way that has James snapping another pretzel in half. 

“Not sustainable you would out me in a second.”

“Yes I would.”

James begins a circuit of his flat, pretzel bag tucked under his arm, “This isn’t helping my Lily problem.”

After a few moments, Sirius sighs again. “It sounds like maybe you have a Lily not-problem.”

“How so?” James asks, desperate and gnawing on a pretzel like a rabbit with a carrot.

Now, Sirius’s previous disinterest melts into his patented cocky drawl, “I dunno that pic is from like at least four years ago.”

James pauses and does the math for himself, wincing when he sees the picture above the timestamp, “Yeah.”

“So she’s back four years on your Instagram,” Sirius prompts, firmly in his ‘you idiot’ voice.

James’s mouth opens and closes, the pretzels dropping from his arm. 

“It’s the old ‘all press is good press.’”

Convincing though the argument is, James can’t help but think this isn’t going to resolve in his favor. “I dunno she might have seen it, laughed, liked it, and then thought ‘hm I could never song a person who had that hair’, right?”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have that hair.”

“Dunno you could be snagging someone and remember something awful and then it ruins the whole thing - wait.”

“She dm’d you didn’t she?”

And somehow, Sirius’s gloating can’t overpower the joy of seeing Lily’s little icon next to her message, ‘Want to grab coffee and tell me about the perm?’

[gryffindormischief]

new zealand

@jilymicrofics

James sighs and pillows his head on Lily’s lap. “Can’t we just live in a hobbit hole?”

“Still have to get approved to buy it,” Lily says with a chuckle, carding the fingers of her free hand through his curls while the other hand swipes through available cottages, flats, townhomes, et al treating Zillow like the Tinder of the housing market. At least she’s just getting threatened with ‘convenience fees’ rather than unsolicited dick pics.

“Well it at least narrows our search a bit, yeah?” He nuzzles her hand, very cat-like.

“Yeah to New Zealand - plus I don’t think those are for sale. It’s a fan site. You should know this.”

“I do Lily. Look,” James holds a photo in front of her face, “It doesn’t have to be Frodo’s house. We just go for one of the lesser-known hobbit holes and really act like we’re meant to be there. Nobody evicts confident people.”

“I feel like that is not true.”

“They have doctors there. And I can write anywhere,” James argues.

“Why are you fighting as if career concerns are the only thing that might cause me to hesitate moving across the world to try and claim squatters rights on a maybe liveable mole house?”

“Frodo didn’t almost die to save Hobbiton for you to essentially call hobbits moles.”

Now it’s Lily’s turn to sigh, though her attempt at blustery impatience is marred by the way her lips tick up in a smile. “Alright, fine. We’ll become hobbits in New Zealand - ”

“You know very well that is not - ”

“So long as you tell your mum and Sirius.”

There’s a pause as James fidgets silently. Alarmingly silent actually. Until he mutters, “Tell me about the one near Notting Hill.”

[gryffindormischief]

priest

@jilymicrofics

Lily’s working her way through the pews, rag in one hand, polishing as needed, while her eyes mainly scan for random detritus scattered from the day’s services. She’ll put the candles out last, then she’ll be off to her room where she’d like to continue reading her novels but where she will more likely collapse into sleep. Her day started before the cock crowed and between the regular events of any given Sunday and Father Albus’s abrupt departure, she’s been through the wringer. She reaches the candles, snuffer in hand when one of the heavy wood doors creaks open - she’d need to tell Hagrid about that - admitting a tall  man with wild black hair, rain streaked glasses, and mud spattered over his sharply cut coat and shined boots. 

He’s out of breath when he slumps against the stone wall, “Where’s Father Albus?”

Lily narrows her eyes and steps closer, now holding the snuffer like a weapon. Which to be fair it could be. “He’s on parish business.”

The interloper runs a hand through his wet hair and pushes it from his face. “I am expected.”

“Forgive me sir,” Lily really is too tired for this, “but it would appear perhaps not.”

“Must you be difficult?” He asks with a bit too snobbish of an air for a man soaked from head to toe demanding a meeting with a priest this close to the witching hour. She’s half a mind to say this to him.

“Must you be demanding? You haven’t even provided your name or connection to the priest you demand an audience with.” Alright not exactly what she’d planned but it’s a similar sentiment.

He takes a deep breath and holds his hands in front of him like she’s a skittish horse. Offensive in a way, but at least it shows a healthy fear of her rage. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“How could your posh boots stray so far?”

“My name is James Potter and I am here to see Father Albus regarding the Phoenix Matter.” He stares and Lily feels like a fool - she should’ve considered this could be related before now.

Her hands twist around the snuffer and her voice is softer, a bit kinder when she answers, “He really has stepped out, Mr Shacklebolt said it was urgent.”

Potter lets out a roar that startles her back a few steps. He kicks at the air and runs his fingers through his hair again. “Shacklebolt has faulty information…I’ve discovered a traitor.”

Lily frowns, thoughtful. “And you’re the expert?”

Luckily, he takes her question for what it is, an attempt at comfort rather than another parry in their duel of words as he slumps into a rickety chair tucked in the corner by the entrance. Still, his response is of little comfort. “Unfortunately I have proof.”

For a few breaths she studies him, the bulges in his coat in pockets where a gentleman hides handkerchiefs and he’s likely hidden weapons or who knows what kind of spying paraphernalia. Riddle’s been advancing faster than they can keep up with. Potter - Lord Potter has been publicly fighting from his high place in society. Apparently he’s been doing the same under the cover of darkness. For a moment, Lily pitied him, at least she has the pretense of life as a parish caretaker. “Well,” she lays a hand on his sodden shoulder, “We’d best be off.” 

He lifts his face, “We?”

With a nod and one affirming pat to his shoulder, Lily tromps over to the sideboard and armoire where vestments and other tools related to services are stored. With a few presses to the ornate carvings, clicks sound from the inside and compartments spring open showcasing, daggers, a saber, and a two sidearms. 

“You?”

“Of course I’m not here to look pretty - not just - though I do keep up the grounds with Hagrid.” She lifts her skirt and straps a dagger to her calf, ignoring the heat that rises to her cheeks when she recalls her company. She feels rather than sees him turn his back.

Lord Potter clears his throat, “Did they bring reinforcements?”

It’s been her only comfort, the thing keeping her from rushing to the stables, guns blazing and little thought for actual preparation, “Luckily, yes. Father Albus has been forced to become something of a realist. Still we shouldn’t dally.”

She sees some of the tension fall from his shoulders as he steps closer, pulling a knife from her cache and lifting it in question. She nods and he slides it into a strap over his thigh. “Do you have a horse?”

“Obviously,” Lily blurts, tearing her eyes from his form.

His voice is warm and his gaze heavy as he murmurs, “We had best be off then - watch - “

Instead of continuing, he reaches for the leather strap that wraps around her middle diagonally from shoulder to hip and pulls the strap tighter so her array of blades rests firmly against her shoulder blades. His breath causes her stray hairs to flutter over her ear.

Lily looks him over with a nod, “You’ll do. After we succeed perhaps you can tell me how a pretty boy like you came to keep company with the Order.”

He grins, and she has to admit it might be more becoming than the roguish frown he’s sported so far this evening. “You mean to tease but I just hear that you find me pretty.”

[gryffindormischief]

June Microfic #3 - Wink

<3 @jilymicrofics | Ao3 collection here

James Potter, son of Fleamont and Euphemia, Marauder, Sixth Year, Quidditch Captain, Chaser, Transfiguration wiz, is losing his mind. Many people – Remus probably most of all – have accused him of it over the years and admittedly not without justification. But in truth, he never really believed it until he finished giving his entirely theoretical presentation on Animagi Theory, received a curt nod from McGonagall and on his way back to the desk he shared with Sirius - a wink from Lily Evans.

Now, as he has been turning this matter over in his head for the last six hours, he has asked himself many questions, none of which had anything to do with the coursework he was supposed to be mastering. Did she wink at all? Was it a twitch? Did she have something in her eye? Was it a trick of the light? Was it an angry glare? Has he finally gone ‘round the bend?

That last one could be true even if the wink is also true. Honestly either way this goes he may lose his gobstones.

James is jarred from his downward spiral by a dinner roll to the temple. “Oi!”

“Think you’ve re-mashed those potatoes well enough?” Remus says with a quirked brow.

“You’ve got the hand eye coordination of a Puddlemere chaser, Remmy,” James says with a sigh, scooping a fork full of lukewarm potatoes and shoveling it into his mouth. 

“Furry little problems and Quidditch don’t mix too well,” Remus sighs. They’ve had this conversation before, of course. James says they could make it work, Remus says it would only draw attention to his monthly schedule.

He’d get more of a fight from James if he didn’t know Remus loved his books loads more than the idea of darting around the pitch after a quaffle.

James takes another bite of his twice mashed potatoes and sighs, finally relaxed for the first time in half a day, “So who - ”

Before he can ask whatever inane question he intended to posit regarding the upcoming Puddlemere Ballycastle match, the subject of his musings settles down diagonal from him and grabs a serving spoon, “Alright boys?”And as if to make sure he truly loses his mind, she catches his eye, and bloody winks.

[gryffindormischief]

different houses

A/N: if James knew my favorite Hufflepuff @petalsonparchment he wouldn't need to engage in this exercise

@jilymicrofics

“Only a Hufflepuff would come up with this,” James mutters, tugging at his tie like it’s choking him. Which isn’t that off brand but he’s definitely more intense about it today. 

“That’s the type of statement that got us here, Head Boy.”

“McGonagall definitely wasn’t involved in this, not when it’s screwing with Quidditch schedules.”

“It was suggested by Lyle Greenwood,” Lily sighs, settling her headband a little more firmly behind her ears. If it wouldn’t make James absolutely insufferable she’d agree that it does feel a little too tight. Something psychological that would be interesting if she was studying it, not acting as the lab rat. 

“Of course it was - bloody Ravenclaw will take any chance he has with you,” James grumbles as they shuffle through the crowd of students making their way toward breakfast.

“It’s just for one week and it has no impact on House Points,” Lily says placatingly, squeezing James’s hand in a comforting gesture. “Professor Sprout made sure it would be fair - you would know this if you’d been there when she announced it.”

“Hufflepuff!” James shouts a little too loudly, earning some odd looks. He fiddles with his tie again. “I was half right.”

Lily pats his shoulder and centers his much abused gold and black tie. It is odd to see him as a Hufflepuff. Maybe even stranger than when she’d settled the blue and bronze headband against her red hair that morning.

He releases his clenched jaw and leans in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Sure you still want to be seen with a Ravenclaw?”

“Hufflepuffs are very welcoming.”

“See? Better already.”

[gryffindormischief]

firefighter

A/N: if I never get more than 2 behind then I'm basically on schedule, right?

@jilymicrofics

“You’re really a lifesaver,” James says, probably for the third time since Lily arrived. At least the second time since she ascended the ladder.

She turns and grins over her shoulder, holding out one hand for her heavy duty gloves. “Literally - also kind of my job.”

James passes them over and returns to his place at the base of her ladder. Despite her assurances that it’s necessary, it’s making him feel useful. “No I can’t tell you how quickly mum would destroy me to avenge her favorite child; also I think its not entirely your job I called your personal number.”

Lily pulls a few cat treats from her pocket and lifts them toward Bond. “James I know your mum. She loves you more than the cat…also please never call the station for this.”

“No she loves the cat more - remember what his legal name is? She was calling me Human James.”

“But she stopped,” Lily says in a sweeter voice than usual as she coaxes the cat toward her.

“Another tick in the Bond box is that I apparently withhold affection.”

“More than a cat?”

“Right? I would’ve thought the fact that I don’t ask her to scoop my poop was a tick in my favor.”

Bond chooses this point to accept Lily’s food based motivation and crawls into her open palm. She draws him into her chest and scratches his chin. “Does that mean you do piss in a box in her laundry room? Here, get to know your brother.”

James’s shoulders tense as he accepts the furry package. For his part, Bond eyes James warily reaching stretched paws out as if begging Lily to protect him. James holds Bond beneath his front legs and squints. “No piss, but but I have been known to chew her phone cables.”

“No wonder she prefers this little bloke,” Lily gives Bond a gentle stroke on the white strip between his ears. 

“He’s also never complained about wearing a tux,” James adds, “Though he can’t really avoid it - a shit!”

In what James would call classic Bond assholery, said cat digs his claws into James’s forearm and leaps to the ground. Before wither human can react, Bond is back in the tree and looking quite smug. 

Lily sighs. “You might not like to hear it, but between the tux and the violence, he’s pretty genetically set to be James Bond.”

“That’s what I told mum about not wanting to wear a tux and she didn’t buy it.”

They resume their tree climbing positions and Lily fixes her eyes decidedly not in James’s direction when she finally speaks, “Not sure what your issue is. You’re fit. Fit blokes usually look fitter in a tux.”

James is still puzzling that statement out when a third voice - the voice he least wants to hear at the moment Bond is in a tree and Lily is maybe hitting on him - sounds from over his shoulder. “That’s what I keep telling him.”

Both turn, Lily a little more carefully given her place perched half in the tree to find Euphemia Potter taking in the messy tableau. 

“Mum,” James forces a ‘nothing is wrong here grin’ which is definitely not his best before the cat in the tree evidence is even considered. 

“Why is my baby in a tree?”

Immediately, Mature Adult James disappears and is replaced by Childish Pouty James most often bright about by playing Mario Kart with Sirius or any interaction with his mum’s cat. He fold his arms. “Because he’s the devil.”

Lily climbs down carefully, expertly, and passes the cat to James like he needs him as a shield…and given the way his mother’s eyes have narrowed maybe he does. 

“Your dapper child is now safe and out of the tree,” Lily says and winks, “Rate us on Yelp.”

Euphemia pats Lily’s cheek and smiles, “Thank you dear.” Her smile drops when she turns to James, “I will talk to you later,” she tugs Bond from his hands, “And when you’re done with whatever this is, invite Lily inside for lemonade like I wasn’t a complete failure of a mother.”

Once his mother has disappeared inside the house, James ruffles his hair and glances towards Lily. He watches, briefly not creepily, as she loads her gear back into the rig. “You really did save my life.”

“She might still send you cat poo in the post.”

James chuckles. “Yeah honestly that has happened.”

Lily pushes the rig doors shut and leans against them, lI wonder which box do you check on the label to indicate cat poo.”

“I think it was probably illegal so - “

Suddenly, Lily closes the distance - most of it anyway - between them until his back brushes the tree trunk. “Since I did save your life…”

“And the life of my mum’s cat,” James adds, throat bobbing. 

Lily smirks. “Yes. Keep that in mind.”

“This is getting ominous.”

“There’s this fancy dress fire - well its not the fireman’s ball because im not a man, but if we call it fire ball - “

“That sounds wicked,” James says teasingly as his fingers reach to gently brush against hers. 

She blows out a long breath. “But also like not exactly inviting.”

“Point,” James allows with a dip of his head. 

“I don’t need a date but since you’re indebted to me we could…take care of that.”

This time when he reaches toward her fingers he grasps them, pulling her close enough to not be friendly. “And I would need a tux.”

Lily’s voice is breathier than he’s ever heard when she replies. “It’s not a favor if all you have to do is spend a glorious evening in my presence.”

“Definitely valid,” James murmurs, their noses brushing. 

“Did I mention your mum will be attending?” Lily whispers against his lips. 

James snickers and presses a short kiss to her lips. “No more about my mum, eh?”

“Even if I think she’s watching through the window?”

[gryffindormischief]

Jily Microfic #7 - Manor

@jilymicrofics | Ao3 Collection

“Lord Malfoy is an exasperating germ of a human being with his silk vests and fancy manor parties,” James grumbles into his punch, taking a too large sip in his anger and nearly spilling it down his front.

Sirius toys with the potted plant at his other side, pulling the leaves in a very nearly destructive manner, “You realize you too live in a Manor, are wearing silk, and your mother is planning a ball in the next fortnight.”

James harrumphs, sounding not unlike an impatient bull. “Quite, but I have never done society the disservice of being such an ass about it.”

Sirius twirls his moustache - not unlike a villainous wretch in one of James’ favored novels, and asks, “So it is the manor and all that rubbish that disturbs you, not Lord Malfoy asking Miss Evans to dance?”

“At least she looks miserable,” James adds, not feeling his most empathetic or gentlemanly, which is why a third voice joining their little tête-à-tête has him jolting dramatically enough to spill the dregs of his punch over his luckily dark hued cravat.

“Oh she definitely is.”

“Miss McKinnon, you are positively wraith-like,” Sirius says with a grin, offering James a handkerchief, “When did you arrive?”

“Long enough ago to know Lord Potter is a fool in love.”

“I would not presume to say ‘love.’”

Sirius snorts, “I would.”

“Do not worry your pretty little head,” Miss McKinnon adds, “Miss Evans hates Lord Malfeasance.”

James smiles grimly as he watches Lily – he can call her Lily in his head – whirl around the floor with Malfoy, her brittle smile plastered in place. “I like it.”

“Unfortunately for my sense of self importance, I cannot take credit for the witticism — twas all the lovely Miss Evans,” Miss McKinnon answers, frowning.

“She is witty,” James agrees, eyes distant as he nervously fiddles with the curls brushing his collar.

Sirius elbows him in the side, “She is also about to be released back to the throng of desperate gentlemen.”

“Should I — ”

One if his companions — or maybe both — shove him in the back, with Sirius’ encouragement hissed in his ear, “Off you go lover boy.”