“Before you - commit, to The Order, to anything,” Dumbledore says evenly, “you must know that you could die. It’s a very real possibility, and you’ll forgive me for being blunt, but it would do us all a great disservice if you were to go into this without full knowledge of the risks you’re taking.”
You’re listening - of course you are. You’re not stupid, but you are also in love, so your attention is divided.
Lily’s wrists are bony where they stick out of the too-short arms of her jumper, fragile in a way that makes your throat stick. Her jumper, rainbow-coloured and awkward-fitting, clashes oddly with her hair. You want to pull her sleeves down and cover them, cover every soft and fragile part of her, make sure that no one can ever hurt her.
If she heard you, she’d hit you, and you know it, so you let the thoughts slide away, try to focus on Dumbledore’s quiet reassurances. But you don’t look away.
“What?” She whispers to you after a few beats, disgruntled.
“You have something on your face.” You’re proud of the nonchalance of your voice even around the lump in your throat.
Her hand moves up, feeling for something that’s not there. “Where?”
“Here.” You press your lips to her cheekbone, feather-light and brief.
From beside her, Marlene fake gags and Remus looks disapproving, if a little amused. But she’s rolling her eyes and fighting a grin and that’s all you wanted, really, so the others don’t matter.
“Idiot.” She whispers, but the smile has won.
She settles a little more firmly into your body, her back to your side, scooting her chair even closer, and Sirius heaves in your ear but you don’t care. You drape your arms across her shoulders and hold her tight.
Dumbledore catches your eye and smiles at you, but you don’t miss the sadness lingering in the expression.
“Who’s wishes to be involved, knowing what you now know?” He asks.
Lily’s hand is the first one up, of course it is.
“I do.” Her voice is clear, even, leaves no room for doubt.
You may have taken more risks, thrown yourself in danger more than she has, so far, but she will always be braver than you are. After all, she takes risks everyday, by existing, and still has the audacity to wear a rainbow coloured jumper that clashes with her hair.
“I do.” You echo, but it’s lost in everyone else’s mutters and calls.
You could die, you think, and you would love to say that you don’t care, would love to say that you’d throw your life away for this cause - and you would, and you do - without a second of hesitation.
But you think of Lily’s wrists, fragile and bony, and you’re scared.
A/N: Currently doing a Harry Potter reread and it dragged me back into reading about these - which dragged me back into writing about them. Anyways this is super short but also the first thing I’ve finished in a while so like thanks to James and Lily for being so good to write tbh
“She’s looking at him and her eyes are red, his heart is hammering against his ribs because he wants to exist in every room she exists in, but he doesn’t know how to say this with words.” -- bleeding for no reason by @jiilys // @fucshias
hi i wrote a third part of marble hearts collide for bonnie’s birthday
you can read it here if u so desire
comments are on if u would like to leave ur thoughts
pls note that the idea i had for this (james tackling peter bc he puts on taylor swift) is a lot better than the execution but hey ! at least i wrote something !
'the universe got tired of us dancing around our feelings so it stopped time until we figure this out' au | Ao3
The world falls silent on a Thursday. Lily doesn’t notice at first, caught up in her thoughts as she drove home from a busy day at work. It’s 5:16, peak rush hour time. When she hasn’t moved a meter in ten minutes, she glances at the lady in the car next to her. She’s staring blankly into space, unmoving and unblinking. Confused, Lily looks to her left. The man driving the black Subaru sits with a blank, bored expression, unmoving and unblinking. Lily jabs at her seatbelt and jumps out the car, heart pounding.
The world is quiet.
There are no horns honking, no cars running except for hers. She runs down the rows of cars, looking into each person’s eyes, yelling, shaking - nothing. No one even blinks.
dedicated to ria and melina, but most of all dedicated to rhiannon x
word count: 5000
AO3 | playlist
part i | part ii
7:45
“Hurry up or I’m doing yours,” calls James, and Sirius glares down from his perch on the step ladder.
“Tell me again exactly why it is that I’m up here hanging the banners for your party and not you?”
“Because you loooove me,” James sings. Sirius gives him a kick but they both know the kick means of course I do. Sirius smacks the banner to make sure it’ll stay up (it won’t) and climbs back down. Remus, Peter and Evans are standing in a huddle by the fold out drinks table, and as they approach Evans whispers something to Peter and he glances over his shoulder as he giggles.
“Notice you’re doing fuck all,” Sirius says to Remus as the huddle expands to let him and James in.
“Noticed correctly,” Remus says as he accepts a shot glass from Evans and balances it on the rims of two glasses.
“Evans,” James says loudly, and she looks up at him sweetly, “you’ve only poured four shots.”
“Remus only gave me four glasses,” she says.
James rounds on him. “You’re not eighteen yet. It would be irresponsible.” Then he knocks the row of shots into the glasses and they all grab for a drink. Sirius watches James, the loser, take the bottle from beside Evans, unscrew the cap, and pour Jägermeister all over Remus’ shoes. Remus puts his empty glass on the table, looks at his feet, and starts laughing.
Sirius doesn’t know if he’s angry or not.
“These aren’t my shoes,” Remus says, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. The action produces an uncomfortable wet sound, and yeah. Sirius is angry. He doesn’t really remember doing it but suddenly James’ hair is wet and dripping and Sirius is holding an empty can of Red Bull.
Evans checks her watch. “You have nine minutes to shower and change.”
James nods and takes an unopened bottle of tequila and Evans’ hand, and leads them both upstairs.
“I still need new shoes,” Remus says. “And to sabotage all the banners to get rid of James’ name.”
Peter appears with a mop, even though Sirius hadn’t seen him disappear. “Sirius get shoes, Remus, you can sabotage two banners. I’ll put on This Is The Day and clean this up. Okay?”
Remus is already slipping out of the ruined shoes – Sirius’ ruined shoes – so Sirius climbs the stairs two at a time (this is the day) and takes the long way to his bedroom (your life will surely change) to avoid the downstairs bathroom.
9:02
James is ignoring him.
Okay, he and James are ignoring each other, but James is always the one who apologises even when it’s Sirius’ fault they started fighting and it’s been over an hour and Sirius hates this party.
Okay, take a breath. It’s only been an hour. James’ hair is still damp from the shower. He’s going to wait until it’s dry, then he’s going to be mad James hasn’t apologised yet.
He goes upstairs just so James will have to come looking for him.
“Beautiful boy,” Euphemia calls from the library, and Sirius ducks his head as he enters. He takes a spot on the carpet at her feet and she runs her hands through his hair. “Why are you hiding?”
“’M not,” he says.
“Okay,” she says, but it sounds more like liar, “why are you not-hiding, then?”
“I was coming to make sure it wasn’t too loud for you.”
“How sweet of you,” Fleamont says from the doorway, carrying a silver tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch on it.
“Our sons,” Euphemia says, stretching out a hand for one of the glasses, “are fighting.”
“Hey!”
Fleamont chuckles as he lowers himself into a reading chair.
“I never said we were fighting,” Sirius mutters.
“You didn’t need to,” Euphemia says. “Aai knows.”
“We’re fine up here, Sirius,” Fleamont says. “Listen, barely a sound. Now, I know you have a refined palate, so take this and go back to the party.”
Sirius takes the bottle of scotch, and kisses them both on the cheek before he leaves. He thinks about going to his room and sulking. He settles on sulking on the steps down to the den instead.
“Steal that from Baba?” James asks, as he sits down next to him.
“No.”
James gives him a look.
“He gave it to me.”
“Okay.”
They sit in silence for a minute, or they sit in Hold the Line for a minute, while Sirius watches a couple of the guys from the cricket team play beer pong and James watches Sirius. Finally, Sirius says, “Want some?” and James takes the bottle, and their fingers brush and Sirius can’t stay mad at him. “Sorry for pouring Red Bull on you.”
James takes a measured sip. It looks like he’s trying to suppress a cough, so Sirius pats him on the back. “Sorry for ruining your shoes,” he chokes.
Sirius smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”
9:40
“Excuse you, it is the original.”
“So? You want to tell me that the best version of Mad World is by Tears for Fears while you’re at it?” James shouts, and Evans shrinks back.
“I’m with her on this one,” Sirius says, going to stand next to her.
“How dare you forsake Olivia Newton-Jesus like this. You’re never allowed to watch Grease with me again,” James says.
“Don’t say anything you don’t mean,” Sirius says, voice low, arms crossed. He hopes that Evans is taking the opportunity he’s giving her, but he doesn’t want to look to check and draw James’ focus away from their argument. “You know I take ONJ very seriously.”
James looks pained. “But John Denver?”
“He gave us this song. You have to respect that.”
He says, “Fine,” and turns to give Evans the go-ahead, but she’s already by the stereo and flipping him off while Mr Denver tells them about the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah River.
Sirius says, “Sucks to suck.”
10:00
Euphemia and Fleamont come downstairs at ten on the dot, carrying a cake each, and Sirius and Peter spring forward to help, clearing off a section of the drinks table in a matter of seconds. Sirius pulls his lighter out of his pocket and starts lighting candles before Euphemia even gets the cake down, and when they’re all lit, he tosses it to Peter.
He sings so loudly he thinks he’s going to choke on his own voice, and he lets Fleamont basically force-feed him a too-large slice of cake, and he watches Euphemia and James waltz around the room to Little Things Mean a Lot with a growing pit of jealousy in his stomach, though he doesn’t know which one he’s jealous of. He steps in and dances with Moony, partly so his hands have something to do, partly because Moony looks extremely awkward just standing there, watching. Maybe it’s the sugar from the cake, maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe he’s just restless.
Euphemia drives herself and James towards them, and in a clever motion somehow swaps James for Remus. James squeezes his hand and takes the lead, and Sirius is grateful, because his heart has just skipped a beat and he doesn’t know why.
Kitty Kallen makes way for a One Direction song and Sirius drops James’ hand. Too fast (I just want to take you), too conspicuous (any way that you like), if James’ expression is anything to go by. “Loo,” he says, and walks away before he can blush any deeper.
10:31
He drops in between Peter and James on the low sofa, though he doesn’t really intend on joining in their conversation.
“Why would you say that?” James asks. He leans back and closes his eyes, and he smells a bit like weed, though Sirius knows neither of them have money for weed.
“Because it’s true.”
James scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”
“Artie Faller and Dan Tawdry are going to kick off on Monday after school over it, guaranteed.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” James yawns.
“Open your eyes, then,” Peter says, taking a sip of his cider.
“Open your mind,” James shoots back.
“No, literally. Open your eyes.”
James sits forward, annoyed, but he follows Peter’s finger, and his jaw goes slack. Sirius looks too, and what they’re looking at appears to be one of the boys from the cricket team eating the face of one of the girls Sirius thinks is on the girls’ football team.
“Worlds collide,” James whispers.
“Hogwarts Romeo and Juliet,” Peter says smugly. “Cricket team’s the Capulets.”
James pauses on his way sliding down to lay his head in Sirius’ lap. “Hey! Not all of the cricket team hates all of the football team.”
“Cricket team and football team get along factoid statistical error,” Peter says, and James rolls his eyes.
“Shut the fuck up,” James says. “Oh, Siri! When did you get here?”
Sirius looks down at him, pauses in stroking his hair. “Just now,” he lies.
“Well, you missed Tawdry and Tully Faller snogging.”
“They’re literally still going,” says Peter.
James looks annoyed. “Fuck off, Peter.”
“Yeah,” Sirius says, “fuck off, Peter.”
10:45
“Come on, let us give you a fringe,” Marlene whines, and Sirius dodges out of her reach.
“You’ll look like Joey Ramone,” Evans says, grabbing at his sleeve, because the party is dead enough that the two of them have retreated into the den loo.
Sirius gently removes her hand. “Evans, I would not let you near me with scissors sober let alone blind drunk.”
She hiccups. “I’m not blind,” she says, but she bumps into Marlene as she turns around so Sirius isn’t exactly inclined to change his mind. In a few seconds she’s completely forgotten him and calls to Benjy from the rugby team because his hair is looking really scruffy around your ears me and Marls’ll fix it step into our office and Sirius watches the boy as he’s forced down onto the closed toilet lid.
Sirius turns around just in time to watch Remus scream and launch himself across the room to turn the stereo up. He’s taken off his replacement shoes so it’s barefoot that he dances across the carpet to take Sirius’ hands.
“I would go out tonight,” he sings, “but I haven’t got a stitch—”
“To wear,” Sirius grins, allowing himself to be spun. He spins right into James, and Peter dips him, and he watches Benjy from the rugby team make a run for it when Lily and Marlene start singing at each other. Frank has a girl from their sociology class on his back and someone puts the song on again because even the cricket team is dancing and laughing and Peter decides to pour drinks.
“Come on!” James laughs, bending down for Sirius to climb onto his back. They spin in a circle, and Sirius is definitely going to throw up if they keep going but he laughs anyway and he loves James he loves James he loves Jameshelovesjame
Peter excuses himself to go to the loo, but Evans and Marlene have already reinstalled themselves in it, and Evans gives Marlene an extremely devious look that Sirius wants no part of.
“Peter, we think you would look absolutely fab,” Marlene starts.
“Fabbity fab,” Evans agrees.
“…with a mullet.”
“What,” Peter says, but Marlene has already cut a chunk of his hair off.
James wraps his arms around Sirius’ shoulders, and Sirius shivers. “Baba and Aai are going to bed, do we need anything before they check out?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Move!” Peter shouts, and Evans and Marlene leap back as he slides off the loo and opens the lid seconds before he starts vomiting. Marlene looks back at them with a bemused look on her face, but Evans just shrugs and continues cutting Pete’s hair. James releases Sirius and walks over to close the loo door. He wrinkles his nose as he smiles back at Sirius.
“Who’s ready!” Frank shouts, and makes a show of pressing play on James’ old laptop. Sirius shrugs at James, and takes his hands to drag him into the middle of the room to dance.
They’ve had a routine to this song since they were twelve, but that fucking film came out last year and yeah okay maybe Sirius looks a little like Ezra Miller and now when they break it out everyone thinks they’re doing that, so they just sway, but Sirius can see James going through their steps in his mind. “Spin,” James mutters to himself, “dip.”
Sirius just smiles, and rests his head on James’ shoulder.
11:13
“You guys wanna go up to James’ room?” Frank asks.
“And do what?” Remus asks, twisting around in James’ arms to look up at him.
Frank just pumps his eyebrows, and James snorts, burrowing his face into the crook of Remus’ neck. They barely fit on the loveseat just the two of them, even with Remus half in James’ lap, but Frank tries to drape himself over it anyway.
“Fuck off, Frank,” Remus says.
“This is James and Remus cuddle time, not James, Remus and Frank cuddle time,” James says.
Frank starts muttering to himself as he rolls off onto the floor, but Sirius watches him bounce to his feet and fall into step with Marlene with a slick, “Hey.”
He looks down at the laptop screen, and pulls up the queue. With a quick glance over at the loveseat he scrolls down and discretely removes one two three four five six seven songs by The Kinks.
11:20
“Sirius I’m Serious!” James says, and his voice is honest-to-god shaking. “It’s my party and you won’t let me listen to my music and – and…” he trails off as his voice breaks and he swallows a sob.
“You cannot play an entire Kinks album,” Sirius says calmly. “Everyone will hate you.”
“But I love her!”
Sirius blinks. “Her?”
“Them,” James corrects. “I love them. They speak to my soul.” He’s not looking at Sirius anymore. He’s looking somewhere behind Sirius, but Sirius doesn’t care to turn around and find out who what has grabbed his attention.
He pretends that Peter’s doing something interesting, and walks away without a word. Peter is rarely doing anything interesting, but Sirius needs a drink and Peter seems to be mixing drinks, so that’s interesting enough.
“What’s cookin’, mediocre lookin’?”
“Wet pussy,” Peter says, without looking up.
“Yeah, I’ll get in on that action,” Sirius says, picking up an empty shot glass.
Peter shakes the shaker, and pours them each a shot.
“James trying to play Kinks?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” Peter pauses to take his shot, and Sirius follows suit (hint of Jäger), “don’t worry. I’ve put something in the queue just for you.” He winks clumsily, and pours another set of shots.
A moment passes between them, and then Sirius says, “Peter, genuine question. Are you actually fucked in the head?”
“What? It’s Gasol—”
“No, it is not,” Sirius hisses. “Don’t you ever say that.”
“It’s the best remix,” Peter says, folding his arms. Defiant.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Chill and take another shot,” Peter says. “Remus is already walking over to skip it.”
(Remus is sprinting over to skip it.)
Sirius takes a deep breath, and rolls his shoulders. “You’re right.”
Peter looks righteously surprised. “I am?”
Sirius nods. “I fancy a smoke.”
“I fancy joining you.”
“Excellent,” Sirius says. Peter goes out into the little courtyard attached to the den first, and Sirius stands in the doorway. “Do you still have my lighter?”
Peter pulls the Bic out of his pocket and waves it around.
“Good, you can use it to keep you warm.” He steps back in and slams the door, making a show of locking it. Peter pounds on the glass half-heartedly for a few seconds and flips Sirius off, but it’s no use, so he just lays down.
“No one,” Sirius announces loudly, “is allowed to let Pettigrew back in until I say so.”
11:36
James is sitting with Evans on the low sofa when Sirius tries to walk past to the stereo to lock the laptop so Frank and Marlene can’t keep trying to put Gangnam Style on. He tries to walk past but James reaches out and pulls him down next to them. He already has an arm around Evans, and he throws his other around Sirius to keep him from leaving.
It’s a good tactic; Sirius wants nothing more than to leave.
“My two greatest loves,” James sighs, giving them a squeeze. Sirius is so close to him that he feels when James’ phone buzzes in his pocket. Both he and Evans read over James’ shoulder: ratatouille boy: hey im hungry. bring skips x
James nods to himself, and kisses them each on the forehead. He gets up, and wanders off to find Remus. Sirius darts a look at Evans, but she’s looking at her hands. The space between them is too small and too large all at once.
“I – I want you to know,” she says softly, and it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to be quiet. It just feels like the quietness is a coincidence. “I’m not angry with you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m angry with you.”
“I know you’re not,” he says, though he doesn’t, and he’s still not sure what she’s not angry about.
“I just really don’t want you to think that I have a problem with the way you love James.” This is quiet, quiet on purpose, quiet enough that Sirius can ignore it if he wants. “I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” James asks.
To her credit, Evans doesn’t act surprised that he’s suddenly back between them like he’d never left. “Don’t want to go to Spoons after the movie on Wednesday.”
“That’s ridiculous,” James scoffs. “Of course we’re going to Spoons. We always go to Spoons.”
Sirius is still looking at Evans over James’ shoulder. He wants her to know that what she’s said, where she’s said it – it feels like a betrayal. But he has a Black’s face and those aren’t really equipped to convey subtle emotion, so she doesn’t get it. She just gives him a soft look. Gangnam Style is playing.
He kind of hates her.
12:00
“Pete wants to know if he can come back in yet.”
“Tell Peter if he wanted to remain inside he should have thought of that before he played a hideous remix of the greatest song of all time.”
Frank shrugs. “Can I at least take him a beer?”
Sirius considers. “Yeah, go on.”
Marlene slings an arm around his shoulders as he watches Frank go. “Seems unusually charitable of you.”
Sirius pats her hand. “Peter hates beer.” He turns around and touches her uneven bangs. “Done with the barbershop?”
Marlene sighs, a big dramatic affair that involves her entire body and the act of slumping almost to the floor.
“Spit it out.”
Marlene removes her hand from where it’s draped delicately across her forehead and gives him a look. “Potter stole my business partner.”
“Stole her where? This is not a large room.” This is not a small house.
“I don’t know, Black. If I knew, then I would go steal her back.”
Sirius frowns, and Marlene pulls a flask out from somewhere. She offers him a swig, and he decides he doesn’t care that it came from her somewhere.
“Like,” she says, “I would die for Lily Evans, but her and Potter? Jesus Fucking Kardashian.”
“I feel ya,” Sirius says, handing the flask back. It disappears back into somewhere. “Do you want to go look upstairs? We’re allowed to. I live here.”
“Nah. I mean, sounded like James wanted to fuck. Neither of us need to walk in on that.”
All of a sudden, Sirius is very done with this topic of conversation. “I’m going to go check on Lupin,” he says, and turns his back on her. Why is this hitting a nerve, Sirius? Why do you care if James is going to
He doesn’t care to finish the thought.
Remus is draped over the loveseat, and he doesn’t react when Sirius pokes his cheek, so Sirius climbs over him to sit on the seatback. “Lupin,” Sirius sighs. No response. “I feel like I’m going crazy. James is off with Evans and I just…I just hate it, I hate it and I don’t know why I hate it because I love James and I…like…Evans and I love James and…” He sighs again. “I love James. Remus, I think I love James like, for real love him. Or maybe I don’t. I don’t know. Like, would I shag him? Yes, obviously. He’s James, and he looks like that. It’s like, I can’t imagine my life without him. What if he and Evans get married?” He buries his face in his hands. “When I think about getting married, it only makes sense to marry James. How can I get married to him if he’s already married to her?” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “And I can absolutely never tell him any of this, because he’ll think I’m creepy, or he’ll say it’s fine but really it’s not fine and it never will be fine because I’m that arse who fell in love with his best friend and made everything complicated and everyone knows that only works out for straight people and even then that’s not a guarantee. Oh my god, why have I done this?”
“You’re so fucking stupid,” Remus mumbles, and Sirius just about jumps out of his skin.
“You’re awake?” he hisses.
“Yes, I’m awake,” Remus says, propping himself up on his elbow, “you woke me up with your crisis.”
“I need…to…uhhh…leave…”
“Alright,” Remus says. “Want me to pretend I was too drunk to remember this conversation tomorrow?”
“Yes please.”
Remus lowers himself back down and says, “You’re literally the stupidest person I know.”
12:25
“Everyone who’s already eighteen, back the fuck off!” James shouts, and spins around a few times with his arms out to make sure no one’s in his space. “McKinnon,” he says, and points, “you’re with me.”
Call Me Maybe fades out, and Sirius thinks he’s going to murder James for benching him during ABBA. Frank looks put out, too, but at least he has the rugby boys to bitch with. Remus is still passed out, and Peter’s still outside, and fuck, does he really not have any other friends?
He looks over at the rugby boys, and it’s a bit weird to not see his brother among them, but like fuck was he going to let Regulus in here. He spots Evans, with her phone raised, filming the spectacle, and decides his best bet is to scrounge up a permanent marker and draw as many dicks on Remus’ face as he can before the song ends.
Dancing Queen is a pretty long song.
1:01
“Potter,” calls one of the football girls. Sirius doesn’t know any of their names, but he follows James across the room anyway. She has a phone tucked under her ear, and holds out a finger to let him know she won’t be long. “Yep, okay. See you soon.” She looks at James. “Mum brigade is on the way.”
“Oh,” says James. “Is it that late already?”
“Yes,” she (Sarah?) says. “So if you’re going to play Three Lions, play it now.”
“Oh, shit! Yeah. I’ll have it on next.”
She claps his shoulder. “Good fucking lad. I’ll gather the girls.”
“Nice.”
Sirius volunteers to go put it on, because he doesn’t particularly want to get caught in the middle of a circle of football players shouting directly in his ear, and already being on the fringe of the party seems like the only way he’s going to avoid getting sucked into it.
“Privately,” Evans says, sidling up beside him, “I hope football never comes home ever again.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sirius says, and she hands him a disposable coffee cup filled with something that he’s only sure isn’t coffee.
She waits ‘til he has his mouth full (cider? beer? cider and beer?) to say, “Also I let Peter back inside,” and disappears before he can swallow.
He almost chokes, but he doesn’t try to follow her, or find Peter.
He sits down next to the speaker, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes. He wants everyone to leave, wants the party to be over. Wants the party to never have happened. Wants James to quit the football team, wants this fucking song to end.
Wants, he leans against the wall and he wants.
1:58
“Come down here with me,” James whines, holding his arms out. “I think about that small café.”
“You’re a baby,” Sirius says, but he lays down anyway. “This carpet is disgusting.”
“Yeah, as far as I’m aware Baba and Aai have never cleaned it.” He takes Sirius’ hand, entwines their fingers. “I’ll drink afternoon tea afternoon tea – how often is carpet supposed to be cleaned?”
“I have no idea. How do you even clean a carpet?”
“Carpet cleaner and hoovering, I suppose.”
“Wouldn’t it be so funny,” Sirius says, “if this carpet wasn’t actually brown at all and it’s just dirt?”
“I drink sugar with – Sirius that would not be funny at all. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”
“You get sick thinking about McGonagall with her hair down.”
“She’s looked the same since the day I first met her! I don’t want her to ever change! It’s like if your cousin waxed her upper lip, or – or if Remus wore skinny jeans.”
“You’ve never seen Moony’s skinny jeans?”
The look of utter disbelief and upset that James gives him is enough to break him. “I don’t know who he is anymore,” James whispers.
“Hey,” Sirius says, squeezing his hand, “think about it this way. At least Pete has a mullet now.”
James’ smile is so bright it’s hard to look at in the dimness. “Yeah! Hey, yeah!” He stops to giggle. “Mullet. Did you ever catch the mullet in Club Penguin?”
Sirius rolls onto his side to stare at James. “You could do that?”
“Yeah. Remus showed me how to do it in year six.”
“Why didn’t he show me?” Sirius is dangerously close to pouting.
“Well, let’s think…if he didn’t tell you, he mustn’t have been talking to you, so was that when you stole his Take That CDs?”
“No, that was the year before.”
James rolls onto his side as well. “Was it when you and Peter played darts that one time and you got him in the foot?”
“I think that was later.”
“When we had a sleepover and you spilled your sprite all over his sleeping bag and he cried and called his dad to pick him up and you made fun of him at school on Monday for crying despite the fact you sobbed the whole way through Notting Hill?”
“Yeah that sounds like it.” They’re face to face and James’ lips are right there and he wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him so that James knows he means it.
Except Evans flops down on James’ other side and he rolls back onto his back. Sirius watches Evans take James’ hand – the one Sirius isn’t holding he’s still holding why are you still holding his hand
Sirius watches James slip away from him, and it makes him want to cry.
5:30
He wakes up on the floor, and he wakes up with James breathing on his face. He wakes up with the idea that Mr Brightside has been playing for quite a while now, and he wakes up with 151 notifications on his phone, and he wakes up calm. He doesn’t stay that way, though, because almost as soon as he registers James he registers Evans, with an arm and a leg draped over him. Sometime since they fell asleep, Sirius let go of James’ hand, or James let go of Sirius’ hand, or Evans waited ‘til they were both out and maliciously ripped their hands apart, because he’s never woken up next to James Potter not holding his hand.
He kisses James’ forehead, feather-light, and then he sits up. Remus is still on the loveseat, and Peter’s curled up on the floor by the loo, but everyone else has cleared off, and Sirius is glad; the den looks like it’s been hit by a hurricane, and he couldn’t deal with people on top of that.
When he goes upstairs, the kitchen light is on, and this time he doesn’t wait for Euphemia to call him in.
“Good morning, beautiful boy,” she says, and pulls another mug from the shelf for him. “How was your night?”
His voice is husky when he says, “Aai,” but Euphemia doesn’t have time to notice as she crosses the kitchen in two quick strides and wraps him up in a hug. He cries into her shoulder for as long as he dares, and she rubs his back and massages his scalp until he pushes away because the saucepan is starting to bubble over. “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says. She shoots him a look over her shoulder that says fat chance.
“Everything will work out,” she says, as she pours the tea into the mugs.
“How can you know?” he asks, taking the mug she offers.
“I’m your mother,” she smiles, and pats his cheek. “Aai knows. Now take that up to bed with you, and when you wake up, everything will seem a little better. Okay?”
He nods. Things already seem a little better, with the warmth of the mug, and the warmth of a mother’s love. He kisses her cheek, takes a sip of his chai, and then he goes to bed.
a late bday fic for @jamesandlilyaredead <3 (9445 words, read on ao3)
Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. But James works in a coffee shop, and every time he sees colour there’s an annoying customer there too (AKA a coffee shop and soulmate au fic in one because i have no chill).
“One frozen mocha to go!”
It’s second nature to him now, as quick and easy as breathing. In one swift movement, James grabs hold of the milk carton, ready to pour it into the blender. He hears the door to the cafe open, a chilly breeze ruthlessly following a handful of students who scrabble inside as it begins to rain.
It’s then that it happens. The milk drops to the floor as he stares, perplexed, at the colour of his hand. It’s like the weight of an avalanche crumbles on top of him, an invisible weight pressing hard on his shoulders. Before he even realises, his legs are like jelly and he’s falling.
“James? Are you alright?” a voice asks.
He feels a hand pressed against his back, the sound of someone’s concerned voice muffled against his ear. He tries to say something, but all he can manage is an intense gasp for air as his legs shake once more.
He can see.
Not that he couldn’t before… but he can see.
Colours are everywhere, blinding and intense. They’re beautiful, so vibrant that it’s making his head spin.
He’s staring at white tiles, chestnut coloured cabinets. It feels like he’s on fire and, more than anything, he wishes he could stand, to just look around the place to see who is making him like this.
Of course, he’s read the stories like everyone else. Lullabies that dated back long before they even had a name. Fairy-tales of people who, like everyone else, saw the world in a lens, the colour of life squeezed out. There was only one person who could help to retrieve that colour back into your life.
A soulmate.
James blinks, his heart now slowing to a calm, even beat. He breathes in deeply, relishing the peaceful feeling that washes over him. The owner of the hand speaks again and rubs the place between his shoulder blades tentatively, asking if he needs an ambulance.
He shakes his head, finally looking up at Remus.
“Can you stand?” Remus asks, taking hold of James’ shaking hand and pulling him to his feet. He wobbles for a split second and reaches out to grasp hold of the counter with both arms. His fingers grip onto the support for dear life.
Who?
He swallows, a nauseating bubble rippling throughout his intestines and threatening to shoot up his throat. He breathes in, counting to ten. Slow and easy, he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the wooden counter and cautiously glances around cafe.
The colours are dazzling; blues, reds, greens, all different shades and intensities. They're all so vivid and intense that it feels like the ground’s shaking beneath him. The place is heaving with students, all wet due to the unexpected stormy April shower and James tries to look at as many as he can, searching desperately for someone who seems just as unsettled and surprised as him.
Everyone seems normal. How can that be? Colour’s just flown into every crevice of their being… and they don’t care?
There are too many voices, people ordering, grabbing their coffees and other beverages and talking aimlessly with one another. Amidst the chatter and the whirring noises from the coffee machines, the sound of the door opening reaches his ears. A freezing wind enters, the chilly kind that makes the hairs on his arms stand up on edge.
And then, just like that, his world is drained of colour.
The door closes shut and it’s like time pauses around him.
It’s shattering, to see the colour fade and vanish so brutally and without warning.
He’s moving in an instant, ignoring Remus and his concerned questions which he brushes off with a shake of his head. He’s dodging through the large mass of students, speech failing him as he finally makes it to the door and flings it open. The rain’s pouring down with no mercy and it seems that fate has none either.
The person has vanished. The person, his soulmate.
“James!” Remus is by his side, grabbing his arm softly as he shuts the door. “Are you mad? Your feet are soaked now.”
James can’t speak, he doesn’t know what to say. His throat itches to release a soul-shattering sob; that’s what it feels like, soul-shattering.
He numbly allows Remus to lead him to the staff room, setting him down on his favourite armchair. The cushions sink beneath him and the dull chime of the cedar clock echoes in his head.
“James?” Remus asks again, this time plopping a hot cup of tea into his cold hands.
“It happened, Remus,” he whispers, it’s so painful to speak, like the air has been choked out of his lungs. He’s scared that perhaps it’s all just a dream.
“It?” Remus asks, watching James with a careful gaze. “What was it like?”
James sighs and looks down at his tea, stirring it aimlessly for a few seconds before he takes a small sip. “Unlike anything that’s ever happened before,” he says finally. He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the ends.
“The colours were so perfect and then it was gone. They were gone - they just left and took the colour with them.”
“Which colour was the prettiest?”
“Red,” James says in an instant, a small smile creeping onto his face. His eyes brighten, recalling the feel of it. There’s something about that colour, it made him feel warm.
“All of them, Remus. But red… red was intense.”
The two sit in silence for a few moments. James takes cautious sips of his tea whilst Remus sits and watches his every move. The silence is more reassuring than unsettling, but still Remus tries his best.
“James…” The cafe is still horrendously busy and there’s only so much Peter and Sirius can handle on their own. He wrings his hands together, but James is the one to speak first.
“Do you think… do you think that’s it?”
This time James’ voice is back to normal. No hushed whispers, no desperately needed gasps for breath after each word. The only tell-tale sign is his right hand, his fingers still shaking.
There had been millions of accounts of people seeing colour, from all over the world. And for some that had been it, just the one moment and then they were back to the way they had always been. The colours just slowly faded from their memories like it had never happened.
“Well,” Remus starts, unsure, “if they came to the cafe then they must be a student.” he checks his watch, glancing at the time and date, “I mean, it’s a Wednesday. Student for sure.”
“Unless it’s a teacher, that’d be unfortunate.” James mutters, finally feeling like himself again. He smiles, nods his head and allows Remus’ feeble attempts to give him a slither of hope.
He gulps back the rest of his tea, assuring his friend he’s fine to go back to work.
If he’s meant to see them again then he will. And if he doesn’t then, well, he’d just go on as normal. He'd unwillingly let the memory fade away, just like the colour had.
Classes don’t seem to put his mind at ease at all - he spends the hours doodling in the margins of his notebook, not listening at all to the way Mrs McGonagall lectures on about Biology. And when the two hours are finally up, he jogs all the way back to the coffee shop.
Peter looks up in surprise from his spot at the till.
“Alright? Didn’t think you were working today.”
“Nah, I’m not. But - err - thought you could use some help? Thursdays, mate. Everyone needs a coffee on a Thursday.”
Peter smiles, thankful for the sentiment and James drags himself behind the counter, throwing his white apron on like it’s hot coal in his hands.
He glances up every time he hears the door open, but each time no one brings colour in with them. By the end of the four hour shift he’s in an angry mood and ends up getting a chinese on the way home to ease his feelings.
He spends most of Friday doing the same thing, but on more than one occasion he catches Remus’ gaze and tries to act as normal and as aloof as possible.
That’s when he slices his finger with a cake knife, and spends the remainder of his shift with an angry Remus, a paramedic and a first aid kit.
Saturday, though, is a brand new day.
His finger’s been bandaged, the sun is shining and the weather report says it seems like summer is finally in the air with highs of twenty degrees (rather unusual for mid-April, though no one seems to mind).
So, James decides not to worry. The first few times the door opens he lifts his head up out of habit, but he forces himself to stop. It only makes things harder and the only way to make things better is to focus on something he’s good at, and that’s making darn-good coffee. He even starts humming again, dancing behind the counter to Wham’s Jitterbug.
Then the air stops again and he’s struggling to breathe. He’s staring at sunshine yellow walls and a black coffee machine.
With shaking fingers he reaches out to touch the bright yellow strokes of paint, thoroughly amazed. Then he swallows slowly, pauses the machine, and turns around.
It’s pretty busy; everyone wants ice coffees and smoothies so they can sit outside and bask in the warm sun before it disappears. There’s a group of girls nearest to the door, laughing about something James can’t quite make out. He glances at them one by one but none of them act any differently or give off any feeling. He scowls.
Whoever the person is, they have come back.
“Excuse me,” someone huffs by the counter and clicks their fingers at him rudely, forcing him to turn his head.
A student glares up at him, hands on her hips. Her hair’s an intense shade of red and for a second his heart stops.
“Instead of eyeing up girls could you do your job and ask me what I want?”
James rolls his eyes and swears under his breath. He doesn’t need this right now, annoying customers make him angry. Even if said annoying customer is pretty.
And he’s already angry; someone in this cafe right now is his soulmate. And they’ll go, just like last time. And the moment will pass and he’ll go back to the dull grey once again. He’s got minutes, if that.
The woman clears her throat, waiting.
“Alright,” he says, stomping to the counter, “what do you want?”
He doesn’t care that he’s being rude. She was rude first and he’s not in the best of moods right now.
“A medium mango smoothie to go. With only a handful of ice.”
James sighs, walks towards the fridge and looks for the ingredients. He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips when he notices they’ve ran out of the said fruit.
He turns around with a twirl and tries his hardest to put on a sombre facade. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of mango, terribly sorry about that.”
“Sure you are,” she hums and grabs hold of a menu, drumming her fingernails against the countertop in an annoying beat, “I’ll have…” she trails off, her nails still dancing as she pauses.
“Yes?” James taps his pen against the till, irritated.
“A medium iced coffee then,” she says finally, dropping the menu back onto the counter. “With only a handful-”
“Of ice, got it. And your name?”
“Lily. That’s L-I-L-Y. Not two L’s. Just one.”
He bites his tongue, of course he knows how to spell. How stupid does she think he is?
Remus is on the next till, serving the group of girls who had been by the door. James watches them curiously as he pours the coffee and ice cream into a blender. They’re all acting normal; there’s no spark in their eyes, no sign that they’re experiencing anything. They’re pretty he supposes, but he… he can’t connect.
Would there even be a sign? How can he tell?
His annoying customer clears her throat again and he refrains from rolling his eyes once more. The sooner he works on her damn iced coffee then the sooner she can leave and he’ll be able to try and find them, whoever they were.
A gruelling three minutes later he plonks the beverage down onto the counter.
“That’s £2.35,” his tone is icy and he wishes he’d spat in the stupid beverage as she bites down on the straw and gives it a small sip.
She hands him the exact change without uttering another word, then wraps two serviettes around the plastic cup before picking it up. She narrows her eyes at him and glances at his name tag.
“Thanks James,” she sneers, “great customer service.” Then she’s gone and he couldn’t be any more relieved.
He releases a long, hard breath and looks around the cafe again. The group of girls are leaving, chattering to themselves as Lily lags behind them; the small girl takes tiny steps as they move at a snail's-pace towards the door. The bell chimes and the group and Lily leave the building, a few other students following after her.
He blinks and the colour vanishes with it. James curses and kicks the counter irritably.
Sirius looks over at him in shock and Remus hisses at him to behave. His foot throbs, kicking hadn’t helped at all. And he’s just wasted all his time serving that annoying Lily as his soulmate had just been and gone again, and disappeared right from under his nose.
“So, let me get this straight…” Sirius leans against the table, his long legs stretching out as he cradles a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, “you experienced it and you didn’t tell me? Your best mate?”
James rolls his eyes, mouth curling slightly into a small smile. “It was painful, thank you very much. That much colour to suddenly look at? I had a blinking migraine for a couple of hours afterwards!”
Sirius lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and scratches his chin. “Did you see who it was?”
He shakes his head. “It was too busy. And I had the worst customer too, she was a right bi-”
Remus pokes his head round the door. “Didn’t you notice James almost passed out on the floor? Honestly, I bet his S.M has already clocked on. You weren’t exactly discreet, mate.”
James chucks an empty milk carton and Remus dodges it, laughing like he’s on helium.
“You’re such an arse! It’s painful, okay?”
Sirius sighs dramatically and throws one hand to his head. The other hand reaches out, clutching hard onto James’ shoulder. “But it’s beautiful, right? Beautifully painful?”
“Yeah, go ahead and make fun. I’d like to see how you handle it.”
His friend shrugs a little and balances his teaspoon on his left pinky. “I have,” he says simply.
James chokes on the last few dregs of his hot vimto, catching Remus’ perplexed gaze.
“You have? When?”
Sirius stands there a little awkwardly, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. “It was ages ago. I - we were only seven... we didn’t understand it much at the time.”
“Ruddy hell.”
James doesn’t know what’s more shocking - the fact that Sirius has a soulmate somewhere or that he won’t give away any more details about it. He just picks up his leather jacket, throws it over one shoulder and glances at James’ and Remus’ still surprised faces with another shrug.
“Are we running a coffee shop or what?”
He hates that he chose Biology, of all the sciences, to study at university. He’s already juggling football into the mix and classes start to interfere with his work. He finds he spends more time in the small staff room of the cafe than at the library or at Hogwarts Student’s Union. Plus, he can get free drinks here and put his feet up on the table.
That’s exactly what he’s doing when there’s a knock on the door of the break room.
“Mate,” Sirius knocks again, “I need back up. Remus has class.”
James folds down the corner of his page (anyone who claims they don’t do that is lying), puts his pen behind his ear and zips up his jeans (don’t ask). He’s checking his phone messages as he props the door open with his waist, an apology on his lips as he sets into the cafe.
He blinks and then he’s staring at that annoying customer he had the other day. She’s got red hair and she’s wearing a light brown top as she stares down at the menu. She glances up at the sound of the door and his stomach gives a little jolt when he notices her forest green eyes.
He’s struggling to breathe again, hands shaking as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.
His soulmate’s here and of course Annoying Lily has to ruin it all over again.
“Ah, if it isn’t Barista Of The Year,” she smirks.
Any nice thought is instantly replaced with every and any cuss word he can think of on the spot. He rolls his eyes, pulls down at his apron and glares at Sirius who’s taking her order.
“Be nice, mate, she’s a customer!” Sirius grins, “I’m sorry about Grumpy over there,” he jerks his thumb towards James, who’s now angrily ripping up a cardboard box, “he hates Wednesdays.”
He pulls his eyes away as he hears Lily give out a little laugh, glancing around to see if he can spot his soulmate. There’s about thirteen people and James swears under his breath.
“Make a cherry white hot chocolate for Lily, will ya?” Sirius throws him a bottle of water and James catches it swiftly with one hand.
Lily looks smugly at him, tapping her fingers against the counter expectantly. He’s just turned around, grabbing hold of the semi skimmed milk with a death grip, when he hears her clear her throat a little.
“I wanted to apologise for the other day,” she says with reluctance when Sirius coughs loudly, “I wasn’t in the best of moods and I took it out on you. So - sorry, I guess.”
“Isn’t that nice, mate?” James rolls his eyes again when Sirius claps a hand on his back. “Do you have anything to say back?”
He glances over his shoulder and gives Lily the stinkeye. “Apology accepted.”
She’s huffing, cheeks a little pink as she shakes her head, muttering out an ‘unbelievable’. He only turns around once her hot chocolate is made and he gives her a sheepish grin as he places it in front of her.
“I’m sorry too. I guess.”
Sirius snorts as he takes the order of the next customer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re lucky Remus isn’t here. He’d have you drawn and quartered for being rude to a customer.”
“I’ve got a few more things on my mind right now,” he murmurs quietly, cleaning up a little spillage with a tea towel.
“They’re here? Right now?” Sirius lifts his head in a very inconspicuous manner, eyes raking over each customer like he's in the mafia.
“Something wrong?” Lily asks as she sips at her drink.
“Hey, Lils. You know anyone in here?”
At Sirius’ question she turns around to look. “No one seems familiar. Why?”
“Well James -”
“No reason,” James stomps on Sirius’ foot, instantly silencing him.
“No reason,” Sirius echoes.
She hums, sliding over the exact change for her beverage before sitting down at one of the tables.
James glances around the cafe again.
Apart from Lily, there's a group of three girls over in the corner giggling at a laptop, a guy with a beard who's talking animatedly on his phone, two girls and a guy all collectively on their phones as they sit together (they’ve hardly spoken at all since they arrived) and a guy who must be about fifty five talking to a woman of similar age. Plus another five or so who aren’t even facing him.
He grimaces and scribbles down everyone's appearances in the margins of his notepad. This time he's not going to give up as easily.
After an hour the colour is starting to get too much to handle, he’s got a head-splitting migraine.
“I can’t,” he whispers to Sirius and shakes his head. He’s already threading his arms through his jacket. “I need to get out. Fresh air.”
It’s almost a relief to see the different shades of grey when he steps out onto the street. It’s empowering to know that, this time, he’s the one who’s taken the colour away. He lets out a sigh and kicks at an empty bottle on the road.
He doesn’t look back.
It’s Peter who notices the pattern first.
Wednesdays at three thirty, give or take a few minutes. Every Wednesday. There’s quite a number of regulars but, unfortunately for him, Lily is always showing up too.
“You make good coffee,” she shrugs the next time he sees her.
And the time after that Remus is there. It turns out the two share a class together and they spend hours talking about their essay that’s due in on Friday.
Her hair is always the first thing he notices, dangerously bold and enticing. He supposes she’s not so bad once you get to know her.
A couple of weeks later, Lily asks if James can read over her essay (apparently some people actually have their work checked, which is news for him) and he says yes in a heartbeat.
“Are you sure?” she asks as she places her laptop on a table close to the window.
James takes off his apron and throws it over the back of the chair. It’s a pointless question, since she’s already asked him the same thing about twenty times.
“Totally. But I’m a sucker for the oxford comma. Just a forewarning.”
She’s rolling her eyes as she takes out her purse. “What do you want to drink? It’s on me.”
He peels his eyes away from the screen and squints up at the menu. There’s no Remus today and that leaves Peter and Sirius behind the counter. The two snicker and goof around, juggling oranges and balancing milk lids on their noses.
“I’ll have a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. Extra hot,” he says.
“Aren’t they a bugger to make?”
“The worst.”
“I’m about eighty percent sure Sirius spat in that,” she says when she places the steaming mug on the table next to him five minutes later.
He drinks it anyways (who would have thought such an obnoxious and hipster drink would actually taste pretty good?) and spends the remainder of the day sitting next to Lily. Her essay is impeccable, of course, and each time their arms brush against each other he gets a jolt in his stomach.
Having her at the cafe makes it a lot harder for James to liaise and spy on the other customers. Especially when she and Sirius bond over their love for marmite (how disgusting) during her next visit.
For some reason she’s eating toast and Sirius just blinks at her. “Is that marmite?”
The rest is history and she spends most of her visit that day cooped up on one of the high chairs. They chatter together about their marmite experiences for what seems like hours.
It’s becoming A Problem.
James slowly starts to notice how pretty her smile is. She always spends a good fifteen minutes or so deciding what on earth to order and, more often than not, changes her mind about three times.
On one occasion he asks her, “What do you want? What do you want?” to which she replies back with an exasperated grimace, “It’s not that simple,” then the two get matching, exhilarated grins as they both profess their love for The Notebook.
He’s almost used to seeing the colour so much now but a part of him dares to normalise the feeling, lest it vanish as quick as a heartbeat.
And it’s Wednesday again when a downpour brings in a mass of students.
Lily, yellow and blue spotted umbrella in her hand, is, of course, amidst the thrall. James isn’t even that surprised to see her anymore. Sirius is busy serving another customer, so he gives her a bright smile (which he realises isn’t actually that hard to do) and asks her what she wants.
“I’ll have a Pumpkin Spiced Latte.”
“One of those are you?” he asks, giving Lily a sly smirk as he starts to jot down her order.
“It’s good. Have you never tried it?”
He shakes his head. “Peter’s addicted to it, he made me try it once. Far too sweet,” he says with a grimace.
“That’s what makes it so delicious.”
He doesn’t understand how someone can have such strange taste buds - to think marmite, PSLs and white hot chocolates are all under the denomination of ‘delicious’. But hey - everyone has their own opinions, right? Even if it’s the wrong one.
He’s just turning around, ready to start making her drink when she sucks in a breath. He pauses instantly, already knowing by now what that little intake of breath means.
“What are you wanting to change it to?”
He can’t help but give her an amused smile, watching as she glares at the menu. Biting her chipped nails, fingers drumming against the counter-top. She looks like this is the worst decision she’s ever made.
“I can’t decide between a Pumpkin Spiced Latte or a Pumpkin Spiced Frapp.”
He blinks, “Well. One’s hot - you see - and the other’s cold.”
“Wow, thanks for that. I’d never have guessed.”
She’s smirking and she’s got such a contagious smile, he can feel his lips mirroring hers in seconds. She takes another three minutes before she slaps a fiver onto the counter. “A cold one. I’ll be daring.”
When he places the drink on the counter next to her, he rakes his eyes over the customers behind her. The same group of girls, the same elderly couple, the same bearded man. It has to be one of them.
He’s served them all before, each are nice and unique in character but it’s so hard to figure out which one it is. He’s even tried small talk, but every time he makes it personal they all shrink away. It seems like Lily is the only one in the cafe who ever bothers to talk. And, even then, it’s Sirius who she’s closer too.
He gets a message, phone buzzing against his thigh as he hands over Lily’s change.
Serious to Barista Of The Year (15:37) : stop flirting with customers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“I was not flirting.”
“You know,” Sirius, who’s lounging across one of the sofas with a history book pulled over his face, lets out a small sigh, “I didn’t believe you the first five times, so -”
“I’m only saying it so you know I’m telling the truth!”
Only now does Sirius peel the book away from his face. “Mate. Come on.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You are allowed to, you know,”
“I know I’m allowed to,” James scowls.
“Do you?” Sirius swings his legs onto the floor, his socks have dozens of little hamburgers all over them. “I mean… I know you’re - well - a romantic but having a soulmate doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about you?”
Sirius scratches his chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “What about me?” his voice is gruff.
“You never told me, your best mate, that you saw colour when you were seven. Seven!”
He merely shrugs. “I was seven.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean. Do you still-”
Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, haven’t for ages.”
“What was it like?”
There’s a small period of silence.
Sirius runs a hand through his hair, then he takes a swig of water and flings the now empty bottle up into the air. He catches it with one hand.
“It felt - God, I dunno - natural? We had no idea what it meant, how could we? We were friends, that was it.”
James gets goosebumps.
“What happened?”
“With a swine of a mother like mine?” he snorts, “What didn’t happen. I never saw her again.”
“You could try finding her-”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Half the female population probably have the same name.”
“Jane.”
“No.”
“Sarah?”
“No. Can you stop guessing now?”
“Depends, will you tell me her name?”
Sirius rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Fine. Mary.”
James drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I suppose it is quite a common name. There’s Mary Berry, Mary Poppins-”
“Mary, Queen of Scots.” Sirius adds, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “My point is there’s a heck ton of Mary’s out there. And after a while you get, well - you know.”
The annoying thing is that, even though Sirius hadn’t exactly said much, he did know.
It’s such a strange feeling, one you can’t really put into words. James had spent hours agonising over who it was, tearing himself apart to the point where he couldn’t sleep. And for Sirius to know her and to have gone through life hearing that name on people's lips, he doesn’t know how he can handle it.
It’s a gift, but one that eats away at your insides until it’s all but consumed you. Colour was something James desperately yearned for and whoever they were had the power to give it to them. Just like that, you’re made for each other.
He shuffles on his seat, fingers fluttering to itch at his backside (he does this sometimes when he’s nervous). Green emerald eyes flicker on and off in his mind, making his heart do cartwheels.
There were hundreds, thousands, of cases where people married someone who wasn’t their soulmate. You give up the gift, so to speak. Does colour really mean that much to you when you’ve got someone you love and who loves you back?
Sirius mentions something about needing to take a dump and waddles out, not before slapping the back of his neck with a tea towel. James flips him off and Sirius, like he has eyes in the back of his head, does one casually back.
James is left alone with just his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans.
The next time she comes into the coffee shop she’s wearing a bright yellow anorak and James can’t help but think of sunshine, daisies and lemons.
She flashes him a smile, cheeks pink, and asks him how he is.
He doesn’t tell her how pretty she looks today, though the words are desperately wanting to run off his tongue and slide out of his mouth like jelly. He doesn’t say how happy he is to see her - how sometimes the prospect of a soulmate, his soulmate, is replaced with pictures of her.
“Not bad,” he bites, fumbling with the lid of a teapot, “you?”
“Better with the prospect of coffee. Can I get an americano, please?”
James makes a grab for a cup. “You do know how strong this stuff is, right?”
She dismisses his cautious gaze with a wave of her hand. “I’ll add four sugars, it’s fine.”
“You know what another name for an americano is, Evans?” Sirius asks, grinning like the cheshire cat as he leans against the counters.
“Do I want to know?”
“A Long Black. I kid you not.”
Lily purses her lips. “On second thought, I’ll have a latte.”
“Don't fancy drinking a Long Black?” Sirius asks, already walking off to serve another customer before Lily can say anything back.
“You can have a Long Black if you want,” James smirks, dodging Lily’s hand that goes up to swipe at him, “I won’t judge.”
“A latte is better. Thanks though. But I think americano’s have been ruined for me now, permanently.”
He doesn’t know why, but he takes his time making the drink. He wants it to be perfect and immaculate, the best latte she’s ever had before. So, when she brings it to her lips he doesn’t feel like he shouldn’t be watching her - he just wants to know how she likes the drink. For science.
“It’s really good. You’re really good.”
“You’ve got - err - a,” he gestures to his own lips, staring at her frothy milk moustache. Her hands fly up to her face immediately, and she spends a good two minutes scrubbing her entire face with a serviette before emerging out of it with a red, mortified face.
“Sorry. How embarrassing.”
Her smile has to be the sweetest thing he’s ever encountered. It makes him weak in his knees. “It’s cute,” he drops his own tea, hot water spilling onto his arms and over the counter, “bugger. I mean, it’s fine. Milk moustaches are cute, I mean.”
She smiles, “You’re sweet,” her cheeks are still crimson. “I mean, my friend would have just taken pictures. I love her to bits but, you didn’t even - didn’t laugh is what I’m trying to say.”
“I almost did.”
Then he laughs and he has to press a hand to his lips to stop himself.
She’s got constellations in her eyes, he could stare at her for hours and at each passing minute he'd find something new to marvel at. She’s a breathtaking view. Her phone vibrates against her mug and the two jump. She grabs for it, avoiding his eyes as she stutters out a hello.
“Mary! Sorry. I’ll be there in a sec, on my way,” she ends the call with a sigh and when she glances back up at him he has the strongest urge to kiss her.
“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, downing the rest of her latte. She plops the empty cup into his hands, swings her bag over her shoulders but doesn’t move an inch.
He should say something.
He should ask her if she’s okay with seeing in black and white for the rest of her life. Ask if she’s okay being with someone like him - someone who can’t give her colour. She bites her lip, ready to say something when Sirius barges past with a tray full of dirty cups and plates.
His feet falter when he glances at the two of them. “Sorry, did I just ruin a moment?”
James’ cheeks burn and Lily just clears her throat. “No. I have to meet Mary, my- uh - friend. Um. See you boys later.”
She turns around, almost running into the bearded regular man. She murmurs out an apology and has to wait as the old regular couple walk in front of her. Together the three of them leave the shop, vanishing along with the surges of colour.
James takes a shaky step back, stepping on Sirius’ toes.
“Watch it!”
“It’s them,” he says, breathing out heavily, muttering the phrase over and over again, “it has to be either the old guy or the lady. It’s official - I’m a marriage wrecker.”
“You don’t have to marry them. There’s no contract.”
“I know. But, Lily, she,” James groans and shakes a hand through his hair.
“She...?”
James blinks. She’s everything he’s ever wanted. “Er… she has a friend called Mary, didn’t you know?”
“I’ve met countless Mary’s. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
Is she in prison for murder? Did Walburga Black kill Sirius’s soulmate? That seems to be the only plausible explanation at the moment. It would explain why Sirius hasn’t met Mary since whatever happened happened.
He’s grabbing onto a bag of carrots when he gets that thought and he looks around the shop suspiciously. He’s only met Walburga a few times; the last being when Sirius, sporting his own bloody and broken nose, dislocated Orion Black’s jaw.
Barista Of The Year to Serious (17:40): shall i buy hummus
Serious has changed his nickname to Hummus Lover 2k19
Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:41): what are u after
Barista Of The Year to Hummus Lover 2k19 (17:43): is ur mum in prison???
Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:45): ….. i wish
He’s halfway through the doors of Tesco Extra, googling ‘why is my friend a dumbass’ when he bumps into someone and his phone drops to the floor.
“Sorry!”
“It’s fine!”
He’s already bending down, fingers reaching out to grip onto his mobile when he realises whose voice it is.
“Lily!”
It’s weird seeing her out of the cafe, without a counter separating them.
She’s smaller than he remembers and he’s actually able to see her shoes, which is extremely weird. She’s wearing black worn out dolly shoes, her hair wild and the shade of crisp red and orange leaves signalling the first sign of autumn.
Her cheeks are rosy. “James! Hi.”
A car passes by, splashing murky water all over his legs. “I bought carrots, celery and hummus.” He waves the bag he’s carrying.
She gives him a soft smile and pulls on her jacket. “I’m going to buy marmite.”
“Disgraceful.”
“How can you dislike it when you’ve not even had it before?”
“Ah - but how long is a piece of string, Lily?”
“However long it is when you buy it.”
He’s grinning and she’s smiling back, making his heart flutter and quiver.
Seeing her with the sunset behind her, lighting up her hair like she’s a part of the sky, makes him wonder why he was even so determined to find his soulmate in the first place. She’s quickly become part of his life, his routine and he never wants it to end.
His phone makes a PING sound and he forces himself to look away from her.
Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed your nickname to I Love You Bro
Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed his nickname to Please Love Me
Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): how upset would u be if i hypothetically just broke your teapot. Hypothetically
Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): btw whats that tasty thing your mum gets sometimes? not jalebi, the other one
I Love You Bro to Please Love Me (18:10): …. gulab jamun also ??? what the frick sirius?? omw
He sighs and plops his phone into his shopping bag. “Hey, Lily. I got to go, Sirius is creating havoc at our flat -”
“Say no more,” she laughs, “see you later?”
“Definitely.”
It’s only when she’s gone into the shop, and he’s half way down the road, that he glances at the passing cars and realises he’s looking at dull grey.
He’s blinking, stopping dead in his tracks. Heart pounding a trillion beats per second against his chest. It hurts so much.
No no no no no.
He swishes around, almost toppling over a woman who glares and tuts at him before stomping away.
Was he hallucinating?
“Are you seriously asking me this?”
Sirius and James are on a fifteen minute break. They’re lying on the sofas in the staff room, spending their free time balancing water bottles on their foreheads.
“Yes.”
Sirius sighs, “No. I have never thought I was seeing colour when I wasn’t. Yes, I think you’re a moron.”
“I didn’t -”
“You're making up excuses, you knob. You know. You’ve been a blithering idiot ever since she set foot in the cafe.”
“All I'm saying is that there were a lot of people on that street,”
Sirius moves slightly and the bottle falls dramatically to the floor. “I know the Old Age Pensioner’s Zumba Class finished around six, perhaps it is the old lady with the moustache.”
Remus barges in, head ducking just in time as a water bottle flies across the room.
“What are two you doing in here? And why does it stink so bad?”
“Past your bedtime is it, Remus?” Sirius asks as he pulls James into a headlock.
“It’s past three thirty and it’s Wednesday.” Remus sends a curious glance in James’ direction, who immediately stuffs a cushion over his face. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Lily. Or it’s that old lady who grabbed my arse the other day, you know the one who always orders filter coffee and reeks of cotton balls,” says Sirius with a grin.
Remus leans against the door, shaking his head in amusement. “Well the old lady’s here right now. Why don’t you go and check, James?”
James gulps, feeling hot and sweaty even though he’s only wearing a t shirt and jeans. Sirius drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the door.
There’s not even a hint of colour. And no Lily Evans.
Panicking, he seizes hold of the closest thing, waving it in Remus’s face. “Look see. This is green.”
“That’s an egg, mate. Eggs aren’t green.”
“Dr Seuss would tell you otherwise. And how would you know, Remus? No offence.”
“But I do,” Sirius grabs for the egg, it twirls out of James’s hands and falls with a crack on the floor.
“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Peter tuts as cleans up the egg with a couple of cloths, “she’s been coming here for, how long? It feels like forever?”
“You looked like you were sea-sick each and every time. I never knew someone could get so affected by it.” Sirius muses, albeit smiling a little sadly as he pats James’s shoulder.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Maybe she’s just running late?” Remus glances at his watch, it’s almost four by now. Lily has never been late, not once. Dead on Wednesdays at three thirty (minus the Saturday when he first met her). James groans, he's such an idiot.
“Or maybe she got scared when she realised it’s James.”
A customer comes towards the counter and Peter takes one for the team, jogging towards them with a bright smile on his face.
“This is Lily we’re talking about,” Sirius shakes his head with a lopsided grin, “she's obviously crazy about him.”
“Well I don't see her. So I guess your premonition is wrong.”
It’s exactly what James was scared about ever since this whole mess started.
The colour dissolving, squeezed out of his life like water in a sponge, and knowing who it is makes it all the more unbearable. That freaking Lily Evans (the annoying customer turned tolerable acquaintance turned low-key crush turned soulmate) was it all along.
Only one good thing seems to come out of this mess, and that’s that he’s finally able to pay more attention to his classes - and actually submits his latest assignment in on time instead of seven hours later like his last one.
McGonagall has to pull him to one side after a lecture, asking him if anything is wrong.
There’s a hole in his heart, as cliche as it sounds, and the whole damn thing’s like ecstasy. He’s got no idea how Sirius can even manage, because now it’s been in his system he’s desperately wanting it all again.
Two weeks quickly become four and James longs to see her again.
So, at the first opportunity he gets, he taps in Sirius’s code on his phone (the same four digits he has for everything - even his bank code) and has only just opened up his contacts when he hears the sound of biker boots against the hardwood floor.
“Is there a reason why you’re using my phone?”
James Potter looks like a thief in the dead of night. “No. Hah! What - oh, this is your phone? I had no idea.”
Sirius crosses his arms. “No reason why you’re scrolling like a mad man through my L contacts either, eh?” he says with a winks and pops a strawberry into his mouth. James lets out a dejected sigh.
“I don’t have Lily’s number. Sorry.”
“You both joined the freaking Marmite society,”
“Rightly so, it needs more love.”
“And you don’t even have her number?”
He shakes his head, “No.”
Realisation dawns upon him, a glorious and ethereal light bulb flickering on inside his head. He glances up, a smile pulling on his lips. “You both joined the Marmite society.”
Sirius looks uncomfortable. “Yes… but you hate marmite.”
“I love it. Best damned thing since sliced bread.”
“You'll hate it. We only joined so we could get the free jar, but meetings include eating marmite toast so it's not exactly your cup of tea.”
“I'm going to that meeting, you can't stop fate.”
No matter how many times Sirius tries to talk him out of it, James’ mind is set. It’s a brilliant plan.
“It’s an awful plan,” Sirius says for the twentieth time, “we don’t even know if she’s going to be there.”
The words fall short on deaf ears as the two of them make their way to the mini meeting room, tucked away in the far corners of the oldest part of The Hogwarts Students Union. The strange society is made up of about twelve people and, he’s remaining optimistic, Lily’s not there yet.
Marlene McKinnon, a mature, final year Law student, seems to be in charge of the whole society, as she stands about by the toaster with a pack of bread and ten jars of marmite surrounding her.
“You guys just sit and eat toast on marmite?” James hisses as Sirius shuts the door and makes his way to three people who are sat on the nearest couch.
“I did try to tell you.”
Frank Longbottom introduces himself to James, and the first thing he says is that he’s gone through ten jars of marmite so far during his lifetime. Luckily the door opens, stopping all further conversation which involves James having to lie about loving marmite.
Luckily the door opens and colour crystallises before his very eyes as Lily Evans comes barging into the room.
She stops, eyes immediately drawing to James and Sirius who both give her a small, guilty wave. She bites her lip, hand reaching for her bag strap which she squeezes hard once. Then, like she’s lost a battle she knows she can’t win, stomps towards the sofa before plopping down opposite him.
Her hair’s the shade of cinnamon sticks and her green eyes sparkle. Sirius waggles his eyebrows when she throws one leg over the other and leans forwards to them, a smirk on her bright red lips.
“I didn’t know you liked marmite, James.”
His throat’s dry. “Not like. I love it.”
“Every marmite lover is welcome!” Marlene places two plates full of marmite-spread toast in front of them and James has to gulp down a retch. “As our newest society member, you can take the first bite.”
He's got thirteen sets of eyes on him and Sirius has to stuff the sleeve of his leather jacket in his face to stop himself from sniggering. Lily watches him with a small expectant smile. It makes his stupid heart flutter and before he knows it he's grabbing at the toast and stuffing it into his mouth.
It's disgusting, so salty on his tongue that his eyes start to water. But no one else seems to notice, they're all too busy grabbing the toast like vultures to notice, and it’s only Lily’s eyes which still hang onto him and she cocks her head a little to the side. He must look a right state, with the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth and tears streaming down his face because she smiles.
He's never going to get used to it; it's euphoric, a tingling sensation all the way from his head to his fingertips.
“Alright?” Sirius asks.
Emmeline Vance produces a jar of vegemite from her bag and, as a society, they collectively decide to hold a tasting session during their next meeting. Dorcas Meadows hands everyone a Marmite Soc t shirt and, thanks to Bellamy Blake (who made sure they printed out more t shirts in the high hopes that the society would grow), James is given one too.
“I'm in love,” he whispers. Because, crap, he really thinks he is.
Staring at green eyes, seeing Lily’s red lips curve and her hair, like cherries, roses and the setting sun. Sirius shuffles besides him and James is only vaguely aware of murmuring voices around the room.
There’s a tap on his shoulder, the meeting’s over.
He just catches a brief glimpse of Lily’s red cardigan swishing out of the door before he’s springing to his feet, grabbing hold of his bag and telling Sirius, whose white t shirt and dark blue denim jeans are now a dull grey, that he’ll meet him later. He doesn’t even wait for a response.
His heart’s pounding, a dull but excited and throbbing ache that shoots up from his toes like pins and needles.
James has never felt anything like this, the intense desperation - eating him up and consuming him. He pushes past a group of students, a sorry tangling between his lips before he’s tripping over a backpack (honestly- who leaves their bags sprawled out like that?) and flying out onto the floor.
“What are you like, honestly.”
He knows that voice, and a surge of colour comes floating with it. It’s happened so many times now, the change not quite instant but more like paint sweeping onto a canvas - bringing everything to life.
His eyes flutter open, then closed.
Lily is standing above him, grinning, a hand on her hip as she shakes her head and sighs. Then she’s reaching out her hand and she’s the first sweet sounding note of an entrancing melody, just one small trickle of spine tingling laughter and he’s floating.
He realises this is the first time he’s ever touched her hand and he grips onto her that little bit tighter as she pulls him off the floor.
“Alright?” she asks when his feet have hit the ground.
Now that he’s found her, he’s not exactly sure what he should say. Words fail him, not for the first time, and somehow he feels ten times smaller under her intense gaze.
“Fantastic. Yourself?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Oh,” he says, immediately bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair.
She kicks the bag out of way, sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. It’s flu season and he hates being ill (almost as much as he hates marmite) but the prospect of it doesn’t seem too bad when she’s here in front of him. Red, runny nose and all.
She sets off walking and his feet follow - like she’s the biggest flame or source of light and he’s just a moth, so entranced that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He loves seeing in colour but there’s something about her, the way she stands out like paint pastels on a plain piece of paper.
“I err -” he clears his throat and itches his nose, “how have you been?”
“Busy.”
She stops at the small cafe located on the first floor, Puddifoot's, and asks for an Earl Grey tea. When her hands are sprawled around the take out cup, savouring the heat that flows through her fingers, and she’s sipping at the hot beverage she gives him another look.
“Classes were giving me hell so my friend, Mary, and I decided it’d be better if we spent our time here. Her boyfriend always has early lectures so he saves us seats when it’s busy.”
James nods, “What’s the coffee like here?”
“Disgusting,” she grins, a slight blush on her cheeks, “but it’s cheap and convenient.”
“You even have a loyalty card with us, this is treachery.”
“Yeah, but I still need five more drinks before I get one free,” she laughs and his heart soars.
They set off walking out of the students union, towards a plethora of wild flowers scattered over overgrown grass, a couple of wooden benches knotted into the greenery. She plops down onto one of the benches, sighing happily. She reaches into her bag to grab some torn bread, throwing it into the pond facing them.
There’s only one duck in there, which the students of Hogwarts University quickly nicknamed The Giant Duck as it’s abnormally larger than the average british duck.
He takes a deep breath and plunges into the unknown, of what he really wants to say.
“I, err, I thought you might have been - well - avoiding me.”
“To be honest, I thought I was too. That and this cold has been a nuisance.”
“Oh,” he scratches his nose and stuffs his hands into his jacket, “you should get some lemsip.”
“I wanted to, but apparently you have to be sixteen and over to buy it and I forgot my passport so the cashier wouldn’t let me buy it.”
“I could get it for you-”
She shakes her head, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s like, what, three pounds? I honestly don’t mind.”
He’s already standing up, sputtering that her health is the most important thing when she grabs hold of his arm. He pauses, frozen.
She sighs, “Look. I don’t want anything to be, uh, awkward between us. Okay?”
He stops, numbly allowing her to pull him back down on the bench. Their legs brush against each other but she doesn’t move and inch. “Why would it be awkward?”
“I thought you knew.”
His heart skips a beat and he chokes. “What? You… you knew?”
She smiles, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning. “Err yeah.”
“Since when?” his head’s woozy, fingers shaking.
“Since the beginning,” her voice falters slightly, “that day I panicked and heard Remus calling your name. And I fled. Then on the Saturday I was, well, curious?” Only now does she turn to look at him, staring deep into his eyes. He's transfixed. “I only realised once I'd left that your name was the same.”
“But you kept coming.”
“Can you blame me?” she laughs and he feels ablaze.
“Guess not,” he shrugs, “I don't think anyone has enough willpower to ignore it.”
“Yeah,” she takes a sip from her tea, “and I thought you knew, I swear. But then at Tesco you didn't say anything and I realised you didn't. I panicked, that's why I didn't come back, partly. Sorry. You must hate me.”
“I could never.”
She looks so uncomfortable and he's helpless.
He wants to reach out for her hand and never let go. Like she hears his thoughts, she scrunches her fist into her pocket.
“The thing is… I made a promise to myself at a young age that if I ever did see colour I wouldn’t let it control me.”
The Giant Duck quacks loudly and James, who’s been sat on the edge of his seat, waiting anxiously for her to speak, jumps at the sound. She grins, blowing her nose again.
“I want to be able to make my own choices, James. And not be influenced.”
“Okay,” he blinks.
“So I decided I needed to take a break from it all.”
“If you err, if you don't mind me saying,” he pauses, waiting for her nod to continue, “you're saying you don't want it to be in control but it looks like you're letting it.”
“I dont-”
“Running away from it, even if you don’t want it, isn't that just fear?”
“It’s not exactly that simple,” she says.
“I know it’s not,” he gulps, a never ending shiver running up and down his spine. He’s trembling. “But, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”
The sun glows, and, under the deep orange rays she looks ten million times more radiant. He doesn’t care about cliché, he doesn’t care about anything else - only her.
She doesn’t want the colour, the myth of soulmates influencing and breathing down heavily on them. She smiles at him in the moment, moving forward, reaching out her hand so their fingers thread around each other.
And then she’s blinking, inching just that little bit closer towards him. She’s been chewing gum, he can smell peppermint as she breathes out and his eyes flutter closed in seconds.
Even with his eyes shut tight, he can still see colour. It’s more intense and vibrant than he’s ever known it, and he feels her lips place a chaste kiss on his.
It’s red and green, bursting into fireworks and butterflies alike, making his toes curl. He knows she’s feeling the same way, because she shivers against his touch and, when she rests her forehead against his and he has the strength to open his eyes again, she looks just as mesmerised.
There is something to be learned, Lily thinks, from first impressions.
She meets Marlene McKinnon and immediately knows from the curve of her smile and her welcoming words that there is a strength and kindness there. Mary Macdonald offers her a sugar quill and asks her almost a million excited questions, and Lily can tell it is indicative of her devoted and passionate heart. She knows Remus Lupin is kind-hearted and gentle when they first shake hands and he shares his notes with her, despite his questionable taste in mates. First impressions do mean something, Lily believes, and she is nothing if not stubborn in her beliefs.
And yet sometimes, on particularly strange days or after particularly noteworthy events, she can be seen questioning some of those strongly held convictions. For instance, that of first impressions. Because, Lily remembers, she was quite repulsed by Severus Snape and his behavior the first day she met him, and yet they grew to be best friends. However, if she had kept her first impression of him in mind, she might have foreseen his descent into the Dark Arts. But the Severus Snape of now is not the Severus Snape of then, and sometimes people are multitudinous. And James Potter, who from the age of eleven Lily would swear was a plague to the entire Earth, and yet loved to surprise her in the smallest ways. So Lily tweaks her hypothesis the slightest, and she thinks instead that perhaps people – or the ideas one has of people, rather – are made up of infinite impressions over many years, and maybe first impressions aren’t the most important. Maybe it is the second impression, or the eighteenth, or the fiftieth, or maybe even the last. Maybe Lily is not quite as astute as she believes herself to be, and maybe the most surprising of people are the most significant.
