A @jilymicrofics gift for the lovely @tedwardremus, who shared this meet-cute story with me earlier this week. Hope you like it!
Also, it kind of fits @jilytoberfest Prompt 19 (A Little White Lie), if you squint a bit.
870 words / Rated G
May 1977
Lily Evans leaned back against the tree trunk and wriggled her bare toes enjoying the feel of grass against her skin. Late afternoon sun spilled across the Black Lake, bathing the evergreen forest and mountains beyond with golden light. Truly, the Highlands in late spring were simply divine. She took a bite of her apple and turned her attention to the novel in her lap with a happy sigh. Was there anything more perfect than a quiet moment with a good book on a beautiful May afternoon? She was quite sure that there was not.
This made it all the more annoying when a dark shadow loomed over her, blocking her light both physically and metaphorically. Lily’s eyebrows pinched and her nose wrinkled, but she didn’t look up, not even when the source of her irritation flopped down on the grass beside her.
“Evans!” he boomed, despite being mere feet away from her.
“Potter,” she drawled, with exaggerated disinterest, pointedly turning another page of her book.
He did not take the hint. “What are you reading?”
Sighing deeply, she deigned to look at him. His whole body was angled towards her, one long leg out in front of him, and the other crossed over at the knee so that he could rest an elbow on it. His ridiculous hair was just as wild as ever, and his tie was typically askew. His smile was broad revealing a dimple in his left cheek, and behind his glasses, his hazel eyes were bright with curiosity and infectious good humour. There was something about him that reminded her of a labrador puppy, all long limbs and enthusiasm, and to her annoyance she found that her lips wanted to curl in response.
Clearly, that would never do, so she immediately schooled her features into a scowl. “It’s a Muggle novel,” she explained, inserting her thumb between the pages so that she could show him the cover without losing her place.
Potter inspected it carefully. “Woman on the Edge of Time, by Marge Piercy,” he read. “What do you think of it?”
“I’m enjoying it so far,” she told him, cautiously.
“Yeah? Why so?”
Lily glanced at him sharply, eyes narrowed with suspicion, but his expression reflected only sincere interest. “It’s an fascinating feminist perspective on a traditionally male-centric literary genre.”
Potter nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I completely agree.”
That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. “Excuse me?”
Potter shot her a grin that was equal parts smug and delighted, before reaching into his robes and pulling out an identical book. “I said, I completely agree.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “There is absolutely no way you’re reading the same book as me!” she protested, hotly. “It’s a Muggle book! It was only published last year!”
Potter clutched his chest in an exaggeratedly dramatic fashion. “Evans, you wound me! I do read, you know, and I happen to enjoy Muggle fiction.
Lily didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “Really?”
“Really!” he insisted. “How much have you read so far?”
“I’ve just finished chapter eight,” she told him, non-plussed.
“How extraordinary, Evans—me too!” He actually had the temerity to wink at her, and to her consternation her pulse speeded up a little in response. “We appear to be on the same page for once.”
If Lily had been in the slightest doubt that this was a set-up before, this claim would have stripped it all away. “Who told you?”
“Told me what?” he asked, with feigned innocence.
“What book I was reading.” She hadn’t even finished the sentence before she realised that she already knew the answer; only one person shared a dorm with Lily and also spent much of her spare time with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. “It was Marlene, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted, but the faint tinge of colour rising up his neck told a different story.
Lily raised her eyebrows and looked him dead in the eye. “Potter.”
He lasted a good five seconds before he cracked. “Okay, okay. She mentioned it in passing. But I really am reading it,” he added earnestly.
Lily’s lips twitched. “And you’re telling me this because?”
James shoved his hand through his hair. “I just… thought you’d like to know.”
This time, it was Lily who was grinning. “James Potter, are you trying to impress me?”
He looked up hopefully. “Is it working?”
He asked the question with a mixture of bravado and uncertainty that was somehow extremely endearing. Even more so was the effort that he’d gone to; it appeared that James Potter was capable of surprising her. Still, a girl had standards to maintain.
“Go away, Potter,” she told him, though the puff of laughter that accompanied her words ensured that there was no real bite to them.
He untangled those long legs and climbed to his feet. “Right. Okay.” Then he cocked his head to one side. “You’ll be at dinner?”
Lily considered this carefully. “Yes, I’ll be at dinner,” she confirmed. It was hardly groundbreaking news, after all.
Satisfied, he lifted his hand to his forehead in a casual salute, before turning to head back to the castle. As he sauntered away across the grass, Lily finally let herself smile.
Murder At Godric’s Manor – A Jilytober Murder Mystery Fest! 🎃
On Halloween night, during an Order of the Phoenix Party at Godric’s Manor, Severus Snape mysteriously turns up dead, and the most suspicious part? None of the guests seem particularly bothered by it.
Auror Alastor Moody is called in to investigate.
Luckily, Lily and James had made their way around the entire manor grounds throughout the evening, looking for a nice place to be alone together, and happened to witness many of the events leading up to the murder. Unfortunately, the night had been so full of chaos, enchantments, and alcohol that every retelling Lily and James told Moody contradicted the next, leaving him the difficult task of finding the truth between such widely different accounts.
How it works:
Each participant writes two short chapters (500+ words) as part of the collaborative fic.
The participant will be assigned a suspect, motive, and clue to weave into their section of the story.
Before the final chapter is posted, everyone gets a chance to guess who really did it. (Yes, there is a correct answer!)
Important Event Dates:
Aug 23–30: Sign-ups
Sept 6–17: Prompt 1 + First round of chapter writing
Sept 21–Oct 1: First chapters posted + Mod written intermission that will include more clues
Oct 1–12: Prompt 2 + Second round of chapter writing
Oct 15–21: Second chapters posted
Oct 22–30: Guessing period
Oct 31: Final chapter + killer revealed
Want to play detective? Want to frame Sirius for murder? Want to kill Peter, too? Sign up and make your case to Moody!
Some fluff for @jilytoberfest Day 29: Cold Winter Nights.
AO3 Link Here
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute.
“You wanted to stay the night.”
“Mum, it's all right. I spoke with Mrs. Potter and she said that I can stay over without a problem. God knows they won’t even realize I’m here with a house this big—”
She feels weird talking on a phone in an otherwise aggressively ‘wizard’ sitting room, but both James and Mrs. Potter had been delighted to hook up their ancient telephone so she could ring home.
“I’ll be back in the morning when the storm lets up.” She hangs up the phone and turns to find that she isn’t alone. James stands in the corner, arms folded behind his back, face cut in half by a wide grin.
“Do I want to know?” She lifts an eyebrow and his grin gets impossibly wider.
“Storm will make it hard to get home, eh?”
She ignores him, pretending to become fascinated with the book selection.
“Because it’s not like floo powder still works in a storm.”
She hopes that if she remains silent he will let up—a rookie mistake.
“And it’s not like storms effect apparition—”
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute.
“You wanted to stay the night.”
Her throat goes dry, cheeks burning. She could deny it, push him away and tell him to get his thick brain out of the gutter, but her brain is going fuzzy with his body heat leaning into her.
“I just figured that since Sirius is at his uncle’s, I could just bunk in his room. Mum’s very nervous when I travel—”
He hums in dissatisfaction, close enough now that the sound vibrates across her skin.
“Sirius’ room—you definitely don’t want to go in there. Merlin knows what he’s been up to.”
“Then I’ll ask your mum to make up one of the other rooms—seems like you have an endless supply.”
He nods, taking a step back. The distance creates a visceral reaction and she fights the desire to take him by the shirt and press their bodies together.
“Definitely the reputable thing to do—ok c’mon then.”
She follows on his heels as he lopes his way through what feels like labyrinthine corridors, passing portraits of men with familiar untidy hair alongside elaborate paintings of mythical creatures. They get to the east side of the house and James stops at a heavy set door that is left ajar. A glint of red and gold peeks out from the crack.
“Is this where I’m staying?” James cheeks flush. All of his cockiness drained into a bashful expression.
“No—this one’s mine. But there’s a room right next to it that you can use.”
She can’t help herself. She presses on the door and it groans open. It's like his dorm room but with grander treatment—similar quidditch and music posters line the walls but instead of a modest four poster bed, a much too large mahogany one takes up most of the room.
“Quaint.” She can feel him watching her and she turns back to him. He’s straight as a board, face a deep crimson as his eyes search her face.
“It’s—my room.” He says weakly, like this wasn’t already known. “We can…go in if you want.”
Her heartbeat quickens. There is little left to the imagination when the boy you’ve been snogging for months invites you into his very big, very welcoming bedroom. Her mind wanders a floor below where she knows his mum and dad are both sitting in the study, simultaneously too close and far away.
“Maybe you can show me the other room first? That way I know where it is–”
“Right.” He turns quickly, movements more erratic than they were down in the sitting room.
He walks a couple of steps to the nearest door and turns the knob. Inside is a mirrored bedroom, but with significantly less character. For Potter standards it’s a simple guest room but it surpasses any room the Evans’ house could dream to have.
She sticks her head through the doorway to scan the room. It’s good, a comfortable and safe option—but that’s not what she wants.
“I like yours better.” She states plainly, but her whole body flushes crimson. His head whips to her, eyes blown wide.
“Yeah?” He steps close, confidence mounting with each second. She can feel a warm hand hover at the small of her back and his face looms so close she can see the flecks of gold in his irises.
“Just because it’s supposed to be a really cold night.” Her brain is swimming, vision now being taken over by him and his hovering lips.
“Would hate to have you freeze to death on my watch,” he murmurs, lips grazing hers, eyes closing. His other hand curls into her hair and she leans into his touch.
“---and I’m not very keen on storms.”
“Me either—terrified of them.” His lips skim past her mouth and drag a path up to her ear, a smile evident.
“You don’t think your parents-–” but he’s already grabbing her hand, ushering her back towards his room. He walks his way backwards so as to not remove their distance from each other, lips finally making contact.
“Don’t worry Evans,” he says, a smirk forming against her, “Just like you said: with a house this big, they won’t even realize we’re here.”
Petunia Evans cannot start dating the man she considers to have true love potential – a certain Vernon Dursley – until her anti-social younger sister, Lily, finds herself a partner too, which leads Petunia to take drastic measures. For surely, Head Boy James Potter – suffering from a knee injury he does not want anyone but himself and his physiotherapist to know about – should be able to charm her younger sibling, shouldn’t he? If the only thing standing between her perfect love match is blackmail, who is she not to resort to it? Are not, after all, all means justified when the end she has in mind is so very sweet?
A 3-part fic written for the Jilytoberfest Rom-Com Event, inspired by the 1999 movie 10 Things I Hate About You.
I said I was going to post all three parts of this story in one go, but for the past two days I've been struggling to find the right voice, hating everything I wrote and wanting to just delete it all.
Therefore, after giving it some thought, I decided to post the first part of 10 Things I Hate About You and to ask for your engagement/feedback. I promise to then include as much of what you said into the next chapter, making this a story for the Jily community by the Jily community if that makes sense.
Read Part 1 of 10 Things I Hate About You HERE!
After reading Part 1, I've got two main questions for you:
How do you want James Potter to woo Lily Evans in Part 2? Grand gestures or small ones? Feel free to send me specific examples through asks or by responding to this post.
Which character's POV (other than James and Lily) would you like to see included? I will go with the Top 3 from the poll below:
Which character's POV would you like to see (again)? (Jily excluded!)
James likes Lily. And Lily likes James. How the hell did it get so complicated?
Love, Rosie, but make it Jily. Written for the Jilytoberfest 2023 Rom-Com Event.
listen to the playlist here
(you can rip the atj fancast from my cold dead hands)
Take a deep breath and start at the beginning…
Tell them how we first met.
“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”
“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.”
No, maybe not.
And probably best to avoid mentioning anything about fifth year. The pair of them tended to avoid mentioning that year.
Maybe better to start with a platitude like…This has got to be the happiest day of my life…
Oh fuck that.
Maybe best to start with a hilarious anecdote then…
Lily lay on a hammock, her eyes closed, her hair loose and swaying with the wind, looking like a princess except the cigarette in her hand marring the perfect picture.
“That’s a filthy habit, you know”, James observed.
Lily raised an eyebrow, amused, glancing pointedly at his own pack.
“We could quit together”, he suggested, staring a little as her eyes fluttered shut again.
She laughed, disbelieving.
“I’ll pledge you my allegiance, my lady”, he promised, jumping off his hammock and reaching for her hand. “Quit with me?”
And when he looked at her like that, Lily couldn’t say no.
Whew, that's my first proper drabble, exactly a hundred words, so that's exciting! Thanks to @jilytoberfest for the week 2 micro prompts.
