no need to call me sir, professor

here's some middle-of-the-night writing in the cold light of day // i follow from @expcto-ptronum

[maluceh]

silly questions

[mlejulie]

Art 2. Jily 🧡

Instagram: @mlejulie

[the-demelza-robins]

omg so i just read “never understood you before” and i’m?? obsessed??

i love your style of writing so much! and your characterisation? so amazing.

can’t wait for more :D

sorry for not seeing this earlier! thank you so much for such a kind note! (i am obliged to mention that i just posted the final chapter so no more waiting lol) 

[the-demelza-robins]

never understood you before (but i do now) part vi

guess who’s back!! and with the final chapter!! sorry for the wait, and hope you enjoy!

you can also read this on ao3

THANKSGIVING BREAK PASSES in a flurry of turkey, potatoes, and disapproving glances (courtesy of Petunia). When it finally comes to an end, standing next to her parents and waving halfheartedly at Vernon’s car as it backs out of the driveway, all Lily feels is relief.

The moment is short lived. “Lily, dishes,” Laurel says, more of a statement than a question. Lily sighs and walks back into the kitchen. She’s about ten minutes into the seemingly endless pile of plates and tupperware before her mother joins her.

“What did you think of Vernon?” Laurel asks, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Lily pauses, faucet still running. She calculates. Honesty is not the solution here, but neither is an outright lie.

She settles on saying “I think they’re a good match” while sponging the pan she’s washing a little too aggressively.

Laurel hums. “Petunia’s always been more — conscientious of the future. It’s one of my favorite things about her. She plans and she plans and she plans.”

She’s planning with Vernon, Lily translates. Her future is safe with Vernon.

“I think there are some things you can’t plan,” Laurel continues, smiling slightly. “Your father and I… never in my wildest dreams would I have predicted marrying him. I just — I just worry for Petunia, that she won’t be able to experience that.”

Silence, except for the faucet.

Lily clears her throat. She wishes she could respond I worry for Petunia, too, but the fact is that she and Petunia have never been close, not since they were children, not since — well, not since Severus. In the dim recesses of her mind, Lily can scrounge up some happy memories of her sister — shared Halloween costumes, Petunia’s protective stance on the playground — but they’re both rare and fleeting. Petunia is Petunia, and Lily is Lily, and the former will forever disapprove of the latter in the way that only sisters can. She can’t vocalize this truth, though — even if her mother already knows. Instead: “I think Petunia doesn’t want anything to be unpredictable. I think she’d hate falling in love with someone unexpected.”

Laurel nods, standing up a little straighter. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’ve been branching out this year. I know you don’t tell me everything, but the Parents’ Association moms are very chatty. I never would have imagined you with Roger Davies, that’s all. I was surprised.”

Lily knows that she’s started to blush, but she can’t stop. She and her mother never talk about these things. “I really don’t think I’m in love with Roger, if that’s what you’re getting at, Mom,” she says, thinking of the last time she really spoke with him. The last yearbook meeting, maybe? Anything they’d had had fizzled out after that first date, after she’d somewhat clumsily executed a slow fade. “I haven’t even spoken to him recently.”

“Well, I guess I’m behind the times. Want to catch me up? Anything going on lately?”

“No,” she says, more forcefully. “Nothing.” Inexplicably, Lily pictures James, sitting on the kitchen counter just days ago. She pushes the thought down — she must have had too much wine at dinner, to be randomly thinking about him like this.

“Just checking,” Laurel says, a glint in her eye that Lily can’t interpret and feels vaguely threatened by. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Love you,” Lily calls automatically, already back to the soapy water, her mother’s words echoing in her head. You’ve been branching out lately. Had she, really? Yes, she’d spoken to Roger. Become friends with James. She supposed she had more people to say hello to in the halls now, but that was really just because of her position as head of the yearbook. The fact was, she still felt like the same old Lily, truly open to only a few people, closed off to the rest of the world behind a veil of awkwardness and, at times, imposter syndrome. Her thoughts pull towards James again: how comfortable she feels in his presence, how easy it is to do away with the layers of caution that seem to smother her other social interactions. She shakes her head, turns the water off, examines the now clean kitchen. No more thinking of James Potter, she tells herself firmly. The thought echoes through her head as she gets ready for bed, self defeating by nature.

***   Marlene comes back from Thanksgiving break with a new friendship. She and Remus, she explains, had been volunteering at the same soup kitchen over break. Long hours ladling soup and tearing off bread had created (by Marlene’s telling) an unbreakable bond. “All of this is to say,” she says now as she swerves past a mailbox, Lily hanging on for dear life in the passenger seat of her friend’s car, “that Remus invited me over to watch a movie at James’s on Friday. It’s so funny how they — all four of them, you know — just invite people over to each other’s houses. Squad goals? Anyway, he said the invite was for me, you, whoever else. Dorcas has those damned violin recitals, but hopefully we’ll be able to spring her free — watch it! —” (a pigeon had dared hop into the road, and flew away hastily) “— and Alice and James and Sirius and Peter too.”

“Oh,” Lily says.

Marlene shoots her a look. “I thought it was a wonderful idea, seeing as you've started to become completely platonic, innocent friends with James Potter —”

“— every day, I regret telling you about Halloween more and more —”

“— and there’s nothing like a movie on a Friday night to solidify a friendship, is there, Lily?” Marlene smirks, and Lily can do nothing but silently fume as they pull into the high school parking lot. “Come on. You know it’ll be a good time.”

“I do, and I hate you for it,” Lily grumbles, getting out of the car. “And, for the last time, there’s nothing going on with James. Stop smirking.”

“Speak of the devil,” her friend says in lieu of a response, motioning to where James is approaching them from across the parking lot. For a second, all Lily can do is stare. He looks tanner, she thinks, briefly, before dismissing the thought; he didn’t even travel over the break. She must be seeing things.

He stops in front of them, holding onto his backpack straps and squinting against the sun. “Just the girls I was hoping to run into.”

“Oh?” Lily asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing up at him before she loses the nerve. Just James. Just a slightly tanner James. Nothing you haven’t seen before.

“For the movie on Friday: Peter and I want to watch Jaws and Sirius and Remus want to watch Love, Actually. Thoughts?”

Lily finds herself sputtering, “But — I barely just agreed to go, how did you —”

Marlene’s dangerously close to smirking again. “I may or may not have told James you’d be a sure thing,” she says, not noticing (or not caring) about James’s hair, or his tan, or the way his biceps flexed slightly when he ran a hand through his hair. How could someone not care about those things? “Have a nice break, Potter?”

“Perfectly fine. Did you like the flowers, Lily?”

Marlene shoots her an incredulous look, and Lily doesn’t know who she wants to murder first. “My mom really appreciated them. Tell your mom she said thanks.”

He pouts. It makes his mouth look — good. Shut up. She knows what it’s like to kiss him. Shut up. To feel his lips on her skin, on her neck, against her pulse point. Shut up.

“— game on Friday,” James is saying, and Lily’s not listening, but it doesn’t matter, because now he’s talking to Marlene. Lily trails behind them, watching as her fellow students move aside to let him pass through the parking lot, through the school entrance, through locker-lined hallways.

“— coming, Evans?” he asks, snapping her out of her stupor. They’re standing outside what she belatedly recognizes to be the math classroom, Marlene long gone.

She blinks once, twice. He raps her temple gently, that teasing glint in his eye again. “Lily?”

She’s so stunned by the fact that he’s touching her — granted, his knuckles are touching the side of her head, not a particularly romantic gesture — that for a second, she can only stand there, scrambling for some excuse, something to fill the suddenly heavy air between them.

Before she can come up with a suitable response, Gretchen Prewett shoulders between them to step into the classroom, breaking their contact and bumping into Lily a harder than strictly necessary. And that’s when Lily remembers — James and Gretchen. Gretchen and James. Gretchen with her curly blonde hair, her brown eyes, and her kindness, her infallible goodness, ever since kindergarten when she offered Lily a turn on the swings — Gretchen ensconced in James’s embrace after the soccer game, Gretchen whispering in his ear at the Halloween party, Gretchen with her arms around his waist at that one house party at the start of the year….

“Lily?” James repeats, this time with more concern. “You okay?”

She blinks again, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “Um, yeah.”

“Thought I lost you for a second there,” he says. “Shall we?”

He steps through the classroom door, and all Lily can do is follow.

***

That night, Lily sits on her bed, calculus notes spread around her, and texts the group chat.

i don’t think i can do this movie night thing on Friday

She exhales, the lie settling in her brain. She adds: something came up

Marlene responds almost immediately.

Marlene: was that something the realization that ur so desperately attracted to james samuel potter, you can’t be in the same room without wanting a repeat performance of halloween night?

Dorcas: i don’t think james’s middle name is samuel

Marlene: semantics

Dorcas: you don’t have to go lily

Marlene: oh yes you do

Lily: his middle name is Fleamont after his dad

Marlene: …

Marlene: why would you ever know that if you didn’t want to submit to the sexual tension that seems to follow you both EVERYWHERE

Lily: i’m a normal person who pays attention to things, that’s how i know his middle name!!!

Lily: and we do NOT have sexual tension

Marlene: pish

Marlene: i saw the way you were looking at him in the parking lot today

Marlene: you were feasting ur eyes

Alice: i wasn’t there but i believe marlene

Marlene: it’s okay tho because he was checking you out too

Lily’s blushing uncontrollably now. She’s always loved Marlene’s relentless determination, her stubbornness; however, it’s almost never been turned on her. What makes her friend’s insistence all the more infuriating is the fact that she’s right. Lily is plagued by flashbacks to Halloween night whenever she’s close to James. She can’t help, really, but admire how smooth his jawline is, or the shape of his collarbone, or the curve of his biceps, which sometimes show, depending on what shirt he’s wearing —

Even his once-annoying habit of constantly messing with his hair has grown on her, if only because she knows what it feels like to run her fingers through it, and wants desperately to repeat the experience.

Lily: okay even if i were a smidgen attracted to him it doesn’t matter because i completely forgot that he had a thing with gretchen

Alice: omg gretchen

Marlene: i thought they were just hooking up???

Lily: idk but she was really aggressive to me today right after i spoke to him

Marlene: huh i didn’t think she had it in her

Alice: go gretchen honestly

Alice: it’s about time she developed some backbone

Dorcas: yeah not with lily tho???

Lily: i don’t want to be a homewrecker

Marlene: you are literally so dramatic

Marlene: just ask James where he’s at with Gretchen

Marlene: on Friday.

Marlene: when you’ll be at the movie night, because you’re coming with us, because i’m picking you up at seven

Marlene: :)

***

At 7:05 on Friday night, Marlene pulls into Lily’s driveway.

“Surprisingly punctual,” Lily comments as she slides into the passenger’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine calming her nerves slightly. There’s a bitter chill to the air, to be expected in early December, and she wraps her coat around herself more tightly.

Marlene shrugs. “I do what I can.”

Then she floors it. All too soon, Lily finds herself standing in front of James’s door, hand hovering over the doorbell. “Is this really —”

Marlene rolls her eyes and jams her finger against the bell. “Yes. It’s really necessary. Talk to him and then ride off into the sunset together.”

Just then, the door swings open, and there he is: hair wet from a post-game shower, wearing a shirt that brings out the green in his eyes — eyes that flick up and down, taking her in, so quickly she almost could’ve missed it.

“Lily, you look great,” he says, then clears his throat. “Um, we’re downstairs. Movie’s about to start.” For the first time, he seems to notice the girl standing beside her. “Hi, Marlene.”

Marlene whistles lowly as they head downstairs, and Lily prods her with her elbow, cognizant of the fact that her cheeks are turning more and more red. She tries to take her mind off of James by focusing on her surroundings; she hasn’t been in his house since elementary school, when it was common procedure to invite the whole class to every birthday party. It’s nice — that’s no surprise, considering his family’s considerable wealth — and looks fairly lived in. As she and Marlene step into the basement, fully finished with a giant television and an assortment of comfy chairs and couches, Lily begins to regain her composure.

Sirius and Remus are cuddled up on one end of the couch, with Alice and Dorcas sitting on the floor in front of them, flipping back and forth between Jaws and Love, Actually. Marlene immediately walks over to Remus, and Lily trails behind, dismayed to hear that the two have already begun talking about a class that she doesn’t share. She turns towards Alice and Dorcas, but is stopped by the prickle at the edge of her vision — some subconscious mechanism alerting her to the fact that she’s being watched. Sure enough, Sirius Black is staring at her, eyebrows raised. The almost challenging expression is new to Lily; the Sirius she’s always known has been laid back, easygoing.

That is, before she accused him of trying to take advantage of her best friend on Halloween night. She cringes internally at the memory; she won’t apologize for worrying about her friend, but perhaps she had jumped to conclusions a bit too quickly. She clears her throat and veers towards him, steeling herself.

“Lily.” Sirius inclines his head ever so slightly, watching as she perches awkwardly on the couch’s arm.

“Sirius. I, um, probably should apologize for Halloween night.”

“What part?” he says, and something’s wrong, here, she thinks. “The part when you accused me of taking advantage of Marlene, or the part when you stuck your tongue down my best friend’s throat, then abandoned him?”

She’s so floored she almost falls off the couch. He’s speaking quietly, tone monotone, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought he was bored by the whole thing. But his gaze hasn’t moved from her face, and she realizes for the first time that Sirius Black, while angry, is worthy of fear.

“I — well — I’m sorry for assuming your intentions with Marlene. I didn’t know you —” she looks towards Remus, still chatting away obliviously with her friend “— I didn’t know you were in a relationship, and I overreacted. As for the James stuff, I — I really don’t know what to say. I thought he just wanted to be friends.”

“Yes, when Remus kissed me for the first time, my first thought was, ‘Oh, I bet he just wants to be friends,’” Sirius mutters acridly, but his expression has softened slightly, and Lily allows herself to relax, just a little bit. “Jesus Christ. This is worse than I thought.” “What is worse?” Lily asks, feeling strangely defensive. “James and I —”

“James has had a crush on you since seventh grade, Lily,” Sirius all but hisses. “It’s so incredibly obvious, I never even considered you didn’t know. I thought you were —”

“Some manipulative bitch stringing him along?” Lily finishes, arching an eyebrow at him, hoping she can disguise the shock reverberating through her. Since seventh grade.

“You’re kind of scary, Lily Evans,” Sirius says drily. “And sharp. Emotionally aware or some shit. It’s intimidating. The poor fool was just happy to have time with you, even if you thought that him fucking kissing you was an expression of platonic friendship — ”

“That’s not — I’m not — I — he was with Gretchen!”

Sirius scoffs. “I can’t explain all his choices. But they were never together, never officially. Gretchen was hooking up with Michael Goldstein at the same time. She can get kind of territorial. I told him not to get mixed up in it, but he was so hung up on — well.” He pauses. “I’ve said too much.” His tone is not apologetic or regretful in the slightest; in fact, Lily can see the beginnings of a smirk on his face. She doesn’t focus on it for too long, though; there’s too much to process. For the first time, the possibility of James — of really being with him, of holding his hand, of FaceTiming with him late into the night, of walking down the hallways together — cements in her head. Her head swims, imagining the potential of it all. “Where’s James?”

“Getting drinks upstairs,” Sirius says, eying her with suspicion. “Why?” “I think he and I need to have a talk.”

***

Lily finds James in the kitchen on the main floor, trying and failing to carry seven beer cans at the same time. When he sees her, they come crashing to the floor, and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s helping him pick them up, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you doing up here? Is something wrong?” James asks once the cans have been dealt with.

She leans against the kitchen island, wiping her palms on the sides of her jeans. His gaze follows the motion before he blinks and makes eye contact again, clearing his throat. Waiting for her to speak.

So she does: “Nothing’s wrong. I just — I wanted to ask you about someone.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Who? Sorry. Whom.”

Lily can’t help but roll her eyes, his impeccable grammar relaxing her nerves. “Whom? Really, James?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but there’s no real heat to it. “Only the best for my yearbook editor.” He’s leaning against the wall opposite her, hands in his pockets. When he looks back at her, the air feels like honey: thick and slow-moving, sweet. She’s never had someone look at her like that before. Her heart speeds up. Get back on track, Lily.

“Right. Uh, anyway. I was thinking about Halloween —”

There it is, again. That look. Followed by a brief glance at her mouth — he’s quick, but she’s attuned to his every movement, now — before his eyes flick back up to her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I realized that I completely forgot about Gretchen.”

James breaks eye contact. “What about her?”

One deep breath, then two. “Well. Were you seeing her? Was I — helping you cheat, or —”

“God, no,” he says. “Lily, I would never — we weren’t exclusive, or together, and she was mostly using me to make Michael Goldstein jealous, anyway.”

“Oh.”

He clears his throat again, runs a hand through his hair. It’s dry, now, and looks impossibly soft. Lily’s fingers clench automatically.

“Well,” she says, heart pounding. She senses she’s very close to something, something big; it’s like she’s standing on the edge of a cliff, crystal-clear water below, and she’s terrified of how deep she might fall. No matter that jumping off that cliff is what she’s been wanting to do for months now. No matter that jumping off that cliff might simply mean closing the two feet of separation between her and the boy she so desperately wants. “See you downstairs, then.”

***

Lily bolts.

There’s no other word for it; she walks out of the kitchen as fast as she can, pretending not to hear James calling her name. She knows she’s a coward. She knows that if she’d crossed that final threshold, if she’d turned back around, if she’d stayed, her life might look very different. But she can’t do it.

The fact of the matter is, Lily Evans has been Lily Evans, undesirable, longer than she has been Lily Evans, as-crushed-on-by-James-Potter-since-the-fucking-seventh-grade. She needs to let the notion sink under her skin. She’s out of first moves; she’s out of soul-searing confidence. She asked about Gretchen. It was a baby step. Now she can go downstairs and watch the fucking movie, and bear the brunt of Marlene’s disappointment, and fall asleep fantasizing about James’s lips and hands and body instead of experiencing the real thing. It’s fine. It’s what she’s used to doing, and so far, she’s done perfectly well.

It’s not that she doesn’t like James; no, the opposite holds true. She very much likes James, to an extent that is unfamiliar and sticky and all too attainable. James Potter — the disco ball that’s sharp around the edges, except lately it seems as if they’ve both been childproofing the jagged parts, making them soft and round and welcoming. She doesn’t know how this works, how to navigate a minefield that’s been disarmed and paved over.

Besides, she thinks as she begins to walk down the stairs to the basement, how is she supposed to hold up to the idealized version of herself that must have been growing, festering, in James’s head for the past five years? Lily, who’s only kissed three people, and never done more; Lily, who doesn’t know how to be in a relationship, especially one with one of the school’s most visible students; Lily, who, despite all her newfound confidence, still can’t wrap her head around the idea that James would like her. Would want her. Would —

“Lily?”

Instinctively, her head snaps towards the voice’s source. It’s James, of course it is. He stands at the top of the stairs, the soft glow of the overhead light making him look practically angelic. She nods at him.

“Can I join you?”

“Yes.”

He walks until he’s standing on a step two feet away from her. The trek down to the basement involves two flights of stairs, with a landing in between; on the first staircase, therefore, she and James are hidden from the basement’s occupants, from outside influence, from the world.

“What is it?” she asks, going for unbothered and confident and failing miserably. She can’t meet his eyes.

“I was just wondering — now that we’ve, um, cleared up the Gretchen thing — well, the thing is,” he says, running a hand through his hair and smiling apologetically, “I’m, um, rambling. Sorry. Um, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve really enjoyed being your friend over the past few months. But — and it’s only fair you should know — I’ve really, really liked you for the past few years. God, that makes me sound creepy. It’s not that, I swear. I just — you’re so — so poised and kind and sharp. I always, well, I always thought you were too mature for me, too smart. You — you really don’t suffer fools, Lily, and I am one, but, well, in spite of that — in spite of everything — will you go out with me?”

She looks up at him, eyes wide, heart beating wildly. “You are a fool, James,” she whispers, words almost catching in her throat, because there it is. He’s just given the final confirmation, the truth: that he, James Potter, likes her. Wants her. Wants to be with her. She can’t stop — fuck, she keeps remembering Halloween. His hands on her skin. “I — you’re a complete fool, and you’re also ridiculously charming and intelligent and social in a way I can’t fathom, and I respect you. I really do.”

James’s face falls. “Right. Well, I’m glad you respect me, and I’ll just — I’ll just go now, I guess —”

“I don’t want you to go,” she bursts out. This conversation is getting out of her control (when had it ever been in her control?), the words slipping away from her. You can’t do first moves, grand proclamations, the voice in her head whispers snidely, but she ignores it. “I want you to stay. I respect you, and I like you, and I want to be with you. See?”

It’s his turn to look gobsmacked. “Oh. As friends, or —”

She pounces on him. There’s no other word for it, not really; she reaches the staircase step below his, and then she guides his mouth down to hers, hands around the back of his neck, back arching under his. If she stands on her tiptoes she can make the angle better, and… there. Something like a sigh falls from James’s mouth. His hands wind through her hair, glasses bumping slightly against her forehead. It’s not a perfect kiss. But it does accomplish the most important thing, for James Potter, jagged around the edges, and Lily Evans, sharp to the touch, have changed.

Both are now soft, malleable, in each others’ arms.

[maraudersftw]

hey there queen butterscotch + midnight blue + euphoria <33

Hello, my love! Finally got around to writing something for this lovely prompt. Needed some fluff to get me through the blues of Sunday coming to an end. Enjoy!!

What You Said

“Evans!” She could hear the rush of his breath as he jogged after her, his voice cutting through the crisp night air outside the castle. “Evans, wait, please!”

“What?” Lily whirled around, didn’t bother wiping away the evidence of distress from her face. The tears flew against her cheeks slightly with the wind, sent them splattering against her ear and nose. “What more could you possibly have to say?”

James’s steps slowed as he neared her, breached the boundary of personal space as he gently grabbed onto her cold arms. The warmth of his skin, and only that, kept her from shoving him away immediately.

“Did you mean what you said?” he whispered, gaze bright, inky hair darker than the midnight blue of the November sky. “You—you fancy me?”

“No, I lied.” She turned her head to the side, wished he’d leave her alone to her pathetic state and sniffly nose. “I do that a lot. Pathological liar. Me.”

Two fingers curled under her chin, pulled her eyes back to his. “Lily—” He’d gotten closer, the heat of his body more real than the chill of the night. “Did you mean it?”

Her mouth opened to a pull of shaky breath, to the dizzying scent of James, and she was instantly tumbling; gone; truthful. “I—yes, I meant it.” Another tear rolled down her cheek, and this time, she did brush it away. “But what’s it matter to you anyway? I heard you back there just fine, Potter; carrying on about how we’re nothing more than mates, how you’ve completely moved on from me ages ago, how eager you are to go out and explore new options. Don’t go changing your mind now because of me and what I said. I’m just the idiot—”

“Shut up, Lily.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said—” His jaw clenched, eyes burned. “Shut up.”

And before she had the chance to whip out her wand and hex him into oblivion for being an insensitive prat, his mouth was on hers.

This, Lily supposed, turned out to be much better than the alternative, especially when James wrapped an arm around her waist, slid his hand from her chin to her jaw and into her hair. After an initial nudge of surprised protest that was quick to die out, she clenched onto the front of his fancy robes and opened her mouth on a silent gasp, allowing herself to taste the cold sweetness of butterscotch still lingering on his tongue from the Slug-club dessert. James’s lips grew more urgent on hers, the pressure increasing, drawing out every last bit of sense and logic and breath that she’d ever carried inside her. It felt like a loss worth bearing.

Very, very worth bearing.

“But you said—” She tried getting the words out; failed when he instantly plucked them from her mouth.

“You are an idiot.” He finally pulled back, the space opening up between them only far enough to allow panted breaths to mingle, for James to rest his forehead on hers. She watched, transfixed, and more than a little intoxicated, as euphoric disbelief played plainly over his features. “Evans, about every two weeks, I tell myself that I’m over you, that I’m ready to move on. I’ve been doing it for the past three years now. Sometimes, a miracle happens, and I convince myself that I’ve finally done it. But in the end, no matter how long it takes—” he smiled, closed his eyes, kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m always back to you.”

Happiness ballooned in her chest, so rapid and glowing that she was sure she’d float away like some strange luminescent sphere. “Oh.”

“And you hear it just once and believe me? Merlin, if only it were this easy to convince my mates. At least I’d have been spared all the eye rolls over the years.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

He reeled back comically, a gasp spilling from between smiling lips. “Excuse me?”

Lily pulled him back down to swallow that nonsense.

[yesterdaysprint]

The Boston Globe, Massachusetts, May 7, 1904

[tumbledfreckles]

Ok ok ok here we go. Prompt o'clock.

Lily calls him James in a very public setting, thinking during a class, in the Great Hall, somewhere he can do nothing about it and he works himself up overthinking it. Then when they inevitably kiss someone is getting pushed against a wall that isn't a wall (secret passage/tapestry) and they fall through into some sort of situation.

Can prompts be this long? Also it's very on theme, but why need with a good thing?

Hey @relyingonoldships Sorry this was definitely from ages ago, but I had to wait for inspiration to strike. Hope you enjoy it xxxx

The words were ringing in his ears. Had been for two hours and seventeen minutes. Enough time that he should have forgotten by now. Thought about something else at least. Hell, a bit of attention on the History of Magic NEWT in front of him wouldn't have gone astray.

What was she thinking, springing that on him, just before their last exam?

Didn't she know it would throw him for a loop?

Was she trying to put him off his game?

James wouldn't put it past her.

The final thirteen minutes of the exam dragged. The OWLs had taught him the dangers of sketching his feelings, too many wandering eyes, so he forced himself to read through his answers, triple checking as the clock counted down.

Then finally, it was over.

He was on her before they'd even made it out the Great Hall doors. "What were you playing at, Evans?"

To her credit, Lily's spine barely stiffened as he whispered harshly in her ear. If he didn't know her so well, hadn't spent months barely away from her side, maybe he wouldn't have noticed her tells. The tension in her shoulders, the flush sweeping up her neck, the clench of her teeth, purse of her lips.

"Hi James, my exam went well, thanks for asking. How was yours?"

There it was again.

"Evans," he growled, placing a firm hand in her waist, pushing her gently but insistently over to the side the Entrance Hall. "Don't mess with me."

"I got a bit stuck on question five myself, what did you think was the main cause of the 1626 troll strikes?"

"Enough," James pushed her against the tapestry Count Keith of Kantolope, noting with satisfaction the look of surprise in her eyes as he braced his hands on either side of her heae, using his significant height advantage to look down at her.

As if that would ever give him the upper hand.

"You don't want to talk about the exam?" Lily's eyes were wide. Too wide.

"No," he stepped closer, one foot on either side of hers. "I don't."

She licked her lips, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Okay."

"I want to talk about what happened before the exam."

"Before?" Her voice caught on the word. She finally sounded unsure.

James' hand shifted, the back of it grazing down her cheek. "Right before the exam." His voice went up several octaves. "'Good luck, James.' What the fuck was that, Evans?"

Lily frowned, "What's wrong with wishing you luck?"

"You used my name, Evans. It's like you wanted me to fail."

"I did not!" She was indignant.

"You never use my name."

"You've never kissed me before." She scowled at him now, jabbing at his chest. "I was just being polite. Like you're meant to do when someone kisses you."

"Being polite," James ignored. "Just being polite."

Lily's face twisted in a smirk. A look he was sure she'd picked up from him. "I can go back to Potter, if you'd like."

"Oh, no, Evans. I've waited seven long years for you to say my name. If I'd known I only had to kiss you, I'd have done it first year."

"I'd have slapped you."

"It would have been worth it."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Did you really fail the exam?"

"I think my head was in the clouds for at least the first hour." James shook his head, lips twisted wryly. "Just being polite, she says. I'll show you polite."

He launched himself at her, closing the distance between them. Unlike last night's hesitation, this kiss was purposeful. Instead of a sleepy, half delirious moment after cramming half the night, this was intense, intentional and utterly absorbing. Lily pulled at his shirt, dragging his front against hers. Her fingers in his hair tugged him down, the friction pulling a groan from his throat, muffled only be her lips.

James lent into the kiss, resting down onto his elbows against the tapestry. His eyes closed as her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to slide and tangle and play with hers. Her touch made him dizzy, his head swimming, he felt like he was falling, head over heels-

And then James realised they actually were falling, the tapestry giving way behind them. He had only split seconds to twist them and thanked every Quidditch reflex in his body as he managed to pull her on top of him before the hit the ground, instead of the other way round.

"Smooth, Potter," Lily giggled, her head tucking into his neck, making no move to get off him.

"What happened to James?" He couldn't help grumbling, even as his arms wrapped around her. "Thought you were being polite."

Her face turned, lips catching his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his lips. "I'll always keep Potter for special occasions, I think."

[the-demelza-robins]

Hii! Just wanted to say that Never understood you before is just amazing, I have reread it sooo many times. I am really glad you are sharing it with the world ☀️

this is so sweet, thank you so much!! i promise i haven't abandoned it, there will eventually be another update 👀

[tumbledfreckles]

Your shirtless JP submission was incredible ❤

What I was going to request is a combination of shirtless James and your current "names" drabble kick. It may kill me, but I'm willing to take the risk if any inspiration strikes you 😉

I hope this is okay! I don't think it quite beats the locker room, but this is what came out!

As moments went, it wasn’t one of her best.

Lily could admit this quite readily from her current position. She could also admit she hadn’t meant to end up here. Mistakes had been made. Consequences must now be worn.

Fuck.

If only it wasn’t so embarrassing.

If only he hadn’t taken off his shirt.

“Evans?”

“I’m fine.” The words were bitten out of her. Automatic. More than a tad defensive.

“You sure? You hit the ground pretty hard.”

“It was nothing. I’m fine.”

“Can I at least help you up?”

Lily blinked one eye open, seeing a shadowed silhouette above her. Her other eye slowly followed, though she squinted and grimaced in pain. The dull ache in the back of her head pounded with much sharper alacrity as she recognised the shape of James above her. As if she needed to. As if she hadn’t already recognised his voice.

“Sure,” she sighed, taking the hand he offered.

His warm calloused fingers clasped around her own as a spark travelled from her head all the way to her fingertips. Or maybe the spark had started in her fingertips? Maybe it had started in his?

Merlin, her head hurt.

James pulled Lily up with ease, catching her around the waist with his other hand to steady her once she was on her feet. She felt her eyes close involuntarily, swaying precariously on the soft grass. Her head pounded, spinning the world in circles, and she cursed her clumsiness for making such poor decisions on her behalf.

A low groan escaped her throat.

“Alright, Evans?” Her hair was brushed back from her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheek. “That was quite a spill.”

Lily forced herself to open her eyes, but the glare that followed was completely natural. “Peachy.”

“Do you want me to take you to Pomfrey?”

“Definitely not.” Belated embarrassment, as the throbbing ceased just enough to allow other thoughts, other emotions, tinged her cheeks red, and she ducked her gaze.

Holy shit.

And there.

There it was.

Right there, right in front of her, way too close for comfort, way way too close for her to not want to stare, want to touch, want to lick, was the reason for her fall.

Lily couldn’t tear her gaze away. James’ shirtless chest, bare, ripped stomach stared back at her. Smooth, tanned skin shone, the occasional bead of sweat highlighting muscle definition in a way that left her mouth dry. Toned muscles pulled and stretched, a fine dusting of hair trailed down under the waistband of his Quidditch pants.

Look up, Lily.

Her eyes flew back up to James’ face, to find him looking at her strangely. For several awkward, humiliating moments, Lily thought he’d realised she’d been gawking at him, and was about to take the mick something terrible. Then she realised he’d asked her something, probably more than once.

“Sorry, James, what did you say?”

“I asked if you remember what -” James stopped short and frowned. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Lily blinked, a still painful process that required a lot more conscious effort than it should. “I asked what you said?”

He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking, “No, not that.” He stepped a bit closer, squeezing at her hip. The touch startled her. She hadn’t even realised James still held her. A feat that hinted strongly at an emerging concussion, given she’d recently succumbed to the idea that she’d developed a constant awareness of him.

“What?” She wanted to move back, but his grip was insistent.

“You called me James.” His tone was soft, uncertain.

“What? No,” she went to shake her head, but stopped quickly when her vision blurred. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did,” he argued, lips quirking at the ends. “Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“Hard,” she sighed. It was the wrong thing to say, however true. James started to frown, concern taking over his features, and she hastened to put him at ease. It wasn’t his fault. Well, it was, but not in a way she could tell him. “Hardly, it was just a bump. It’s nothing, I’m alright, stop fuss…” her gaze had snagged on those abdominals again, chiseled and just begging to be fondled.

Jesus Christ, he was fit.

“Evans?”

“James, I’m fine.”

He blanched, letting go of her waist this time. He stared at her, and Lily didn’t blame him. Looking back wasn’t an option, looking down is what had gotten her into this mess in the first place, so Lily fixed her gaze just over his shoulder, just past his ear, out toward the lake, instead.

“You did it again.”

Lily huffed. Rolled her eyes. Refused to engage.

“You called me James, again.”

“I have a concussion. It slipped out.” She tried to make herself sound bored. Undisturbed.

But she wasn’t bored.

And she was disturbed.

She’d never called him James.

She’d also never tripped over herself because he’d pulled his shirt off, walking back across the grounds after practise, but that seemed a lesser issue right about now.

James stepped closer, reaching to take her elbow. “Just let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”

“No.” She tried to pull away, but he held tight.

“You’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You called me James.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight!”

James let loose a growl. “Well, which is it? Either you’re fine, or you’re not.”

“I, you, well, uh,” Lily gave her own small fit of noise, frustration, confusion, and embarrassment and pain boiling over.

“Evans?”

“I don’t know, alright?”

“Let me-”

“No.”

“Evans, you’re -”

“Stop it! Look, could you just put a bloody shirt on so I can think straight?”

Oops.

James stared at her for a second time. Probably wondering if she’d lost her mind. To be fair, Lily didn’t think he’d be wrong coming to that conclusion. She felt absolutely stark, raving mad.

“Lily.”

He’d never called her that, either. The use of her first name tipped her gaze to his. His thumb helped, then gently traced the edge of her jaw. It softened the blow her ego had incurred, dulled the drilling in her skull. He smiled, a tender, gentle, beautiful thing that felt like a balm.

It made his next words that much more jarring.

“Are you telling me you hit your head because I took my shirt off?”

Turns out nothing will clear your head like a very fit, very shirtless guy realising that you might be attracted to him.

“No.” Lily backpedalled. Hard.

“Is it possible you were distracted by me?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No.”

“Evans.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“Evans.”

“That is not what happened.”

“Lily!” Her own name brought her up short again, just like his had him. It sounded so different when he said it. He took advantage of her quiet and continued. “It would be okay, if it was, you know.” James ran a hand through his hair, before reaching out, twisting a lock of her own around his finger. “I’ve done far worse for your attention.”

“I’m aware.” He was so close, her voice lacked its usual bite. “That’s not what this is.”

He was so warm. So practically naked.

“What is it then?” He was practically against her now, her jumper brushing against his skin.

“Concussion.” Her hands came out to push him away, but the moment they landed on his skin, she became mesmerised by the silky feel, the heat that radiated out of him, and couldn’t complete the action.

James’ hands both cradled her head now, soothing and stroking and caring. Lily tried not to wince as his hands ran over the emerging lump at the back of her head, but he saw it anyway. His frown was back as he looked down into her eyes. “I’m taking you to Pomfrey in a minute. And I’m not listening to arguments.”

How was she meant to counterpoint when he was overwhelming her? She nodded dutifully.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I’m sorry for making you fall over,” he murmured.

“You didn’t” Lily tried to refute him, but James wasn’t listening as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Let me make it up to you, then we’ll get you checked out.”

“What -”

Oh.

As far as apologies went, it was a pretty good one. James caught her lips with his, pressing his body against her, angling her head delicately, as if she was this fragile, breakable, precious thing. It was undeniably sweet, with more in that kiss than Lily’s poor, melted, muddled brain could process. The tingles she’d felt in her hand, the ones she’d thought had come from her brain, she knew now they were definitely from him, as they raced through every location where their bodies connected.

James was smiling as he pulled back. “I should take my shirt off more often.”

Lily winced, though she knew her lips curved upwards as well. “Only if there’s a bed, or something soft behind me.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean -”

“I reckon that could probably be arranged,” James chuckled as he put his arm around her. “But let's go get that head checked out, make sure you're not going to change your mind when the world stops spinning.”

Unlikely, Lily thought. But she wasn’t going to ruin a pleasant trip back to the castle, tucked up in James’ arms, by letting him know. If she was lucky, played her cards right, maybe he’d even apologise again on the way.

[maraudersftw]

Blueberry + Black + Bliss

Many thanks for this lovely prompt, anon! I'm sorry I suck at stopping under 1000 words.

Sweet Blue

Lily barreled down the stairs, massive package in hand, grin rampant over lips as excitement buzzed like a second skin around her.

The Gryffindor Common Room, bereft of occupants save for a few stragglers who’d decided to forgo some precious Sunday lie-in, flew by her periphery without garnering so much as an acknowledging scan as she skipped towards the Boys’ staircase. A foot had barely fallen onto the first step when she was halted unceremoniously by an amused call of her name.

“Oi, Evans!” his voice rang out, and she whipped her head around to spot a shock of black hair, smiling hazel eyes, lazy smirk. The sight of him, burrowed inside an armchair, instantly sent the thrum beneath her ribcage stuttering. “Off to accost some poor bloke this early in the morning? At least wait for the sun to rise fully, would you? Some of us need more time to collect our wit.”

She narrowed her eyes, thoughts clattering as she debated her next course of action. Futile as the pretence that she’d been on a path to accost someone who was not the boy in front of her was, it only took Lily another half-second to make the decision, step away from the staircase, and towards him. James’s gaze brightened infinitesimally, evidently pleased by the deviation.

“Don’t club in everyone else with yourself, Potter,” she remarked happily, rounding the couch to plop down on its unbelievable cushiness. “Not everyone’s as slow as you.”

He reached out one of those unfairly long arms to bridge the space between them and flick her nose. Lily held back the widening grin. “And there’s that cheek. Even at six in the morning.”

Rather than blush tellingly at the fondness he directed at her, she nodded at the pile of Transfiguration notes and books around him. “What’s this? James Potter studying on a Sunday? Am I dreaming?”

“Afraid of a little competition?” he threw back, fire glinting off glasses. “Don’t worry, Evans, you’ll still beat me in Charms and Potions.”

For a second, the golden glaze of the sun hitting his hair from the window behind stole the words from her tongue, the breath from her lungs. Prompted by James’s prolonged stare, a warmth blossomed on her cheeks, bringing back some sense. “I’d beat you in DADA too.”

“Ha! You can dream.”

“I don’t make it a habit to dream about you, Potter.”

“That makes one of us,” he said, completely unabashed.

Lily fairly choked on that honesty, muscles tightening near her clavicle with strange breathlessness. “You dream about yourself? Takes the narcissism to new heights.”

James cocked a brow, but let her deliberate misunderstanding of the phrase slide. “Technically, everyone dreams about themselves.”

“Ugh, it’s too early for this,” she groaned, sliding her legs into a fold on the couch, fluffy warm pyjamas keeping the December chill at bay. “I was going to your dormitory for a purpose, you know?”

James instantly leaned forward, pleased and making no effort to hide it. “You were coming to see me?”

“To see all of you,” she mumbled like a coward. Perhaps there was also some lie interlaced in there, because he’d certainly been the reason she’d felt an extra jauntiness during her excursion. Not willing to impart that particular knowledge, Lily held out the package to him. “Open it.”

Curiosity creased his brows, smile never waning. “What’s this?”

“Open it, you impatient tosser.”

James grumbled something about ‘mean harpies posing as Head Girls’ and ‘no appreciation for those of curious minds’ while carefully unwrapping the package, all of which Lily soundly ignored in favour of vibrating with anticipation. When the last of the brown wrapping paper fell away, she squealed at the pink box that was revealed, full with a glossy sheen and pretty prints and designs; exactly the way she remembered it.

James looked at her, back at the box, then at her again. Eventually, amusement had his lips pinching together. “If I don’t find at least two dragon eggs inside this, I’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s something even better, I promise!” She wiggled her palms, urging him to open the box.

When he finally popped open the lid, Lily found herself under the very real threat of toppling to the floor, so far had she leaned forward. Eager green eyes spotted the dozen or so confectionaries that sat cheerily inside, miraculously undisturbed during their journey across England. “They’re blueberry muffins!” she informed giddily. “I requested mum to send across some from this bakery in my hometown.”

James’s smile softened as he looked inside the box, so much so that when he turned his eyes to her again, the gold in them had melted into a warm honey. “You do get blueberry muffins here too, you know,” he said kindly, voice fond.

“I know, but those are just imposters. These are the real deal. Take a bite, go on. I can bet you’ll be kissing my feet in thanks.”

“Do I have to kiss your feet? Can't it be something else?”

Her heart bloated dangerously. “James.”

“Only kidding,” he chuckled, reaching inside dutifully and picking out a muffin. At her incessantly exaggerated prompting, he made a show of rolling his eyes before finally biting into the spongey cake. It was bizarre, but Lily could swear she felt flavours blue and sweet burst on her own tongue when James moaned aloud, eyes scrunched in bliss as he chewed.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck,” he whispered in disbelief after swallowing, staring down at the remaining muffin as if it had personally offended him by not being available before. “What the actual fuck?”

“I told you!” she crowed, smirking openly without a hint of modesty. “Isn’t it just the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

“Merlin, I might cry.” He blinked, grinning at her. “Give me those feet, Evans.”

Lily’s smirk dimmed, veins strangely suffused with molten courage instead of blood as she reached forward and plucked the box from James’s lap, setting it aside on the table. The distressed cry he let out died abruptly when she looked at him again, face serious.

“Will my lips do?”

James froze, eyes wide, muffin forgotten in hand. “Lily,” he warned, voice low. “Don’t. Not if you’re still thinking—not if you’re not sure.”

Her fingers found his free hand, ran over the warm palm breezily. “I’m sure,” she confessed, lashes fluttering as she stared at his Quidditch-given calluses. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but—I’m sure now.”

“Look at me.”

She did.

James’s eyes were aflame, even as his breath remained tempered. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” She bit her lip. “I want you to kiss me. I want to eat that muffin, and then I want you to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend.”

A beat passed. And then she found his hand snaking around her wrist, tugging her forward until she sloppily stumbled over to his armchair and right into his recently vacated lap. Distantly, she registered that they had an audience—however meagre—but she’d truly never cared less.

“Good plan,” James whispered, tossing the rest of the muffin into the box. Lily didn’t even feel inclined to chastise him for messing up the presentation, because he was gripping her waist the next second, pulling her closer until his nose brushed hers tenderly. “Always the perfect answer, Miss Evans.”

“Shut up,” Lily laughed, cradling his head, pulling him forward.

Their lips met, mouths opened, and blue and sweet burst on her tongue.

[clare-with-no-i]

color theory

A jily falling-in-love one-shot by clarewithnoi :) 

this might be my favorite thing I’ve written, y’all…

When Lily’s first boyfriend said “I love you,” it felt like a request.

Their relationship was—admittedly—doomed to fail from the start. He was a muggle boy from the next town over to Cokeworth, the once-lanky-now-handsome son of her former ballet teacher. His name was Elliot.

It all began one day in June of 1976, when he saw her perusing the shelves of her local bookstore through the dusty glass of the shop window. She paid no mind to the sound of the bell above the door that alerted the store to another customer. But then, when she looked up from a biography she wasn’t going to buy, there was a boy in front of her. He looked to be about a year older than herself.

“Hi, Lily,” he said.

She started. “Er—have we met?”

He grinned wide and nodded, told her his name, recounted sitting in the office of the ballet studio when he was young, seeing the girls with the pink tutus file in and out. He asked if she remembered him. She said she didn’t.

They started dating the week after.

Lily wasn’t really one for summer flings. Or, at least, so she thought—but Elliot was like summer itself, with short blond hair and eyes like a cloudless sky. He kissed her sweet and talked sweeter, and he was the first boy who’d ever taken her on a date. The first two months were filled with dates, in fact, and they felt tinted rose and shimmering. Lily felt like she was discovering a new, uncharted part of herself, one that could go on dates and hold hands and let an arm drape around her with the knowledge that it was supposed to be there, that it was a sign of pride. She felt like she walked taller. Petunia was furious.

Marlene and Mary both owled their surprise when she wrote them the news. Their happiness followed shortly after, like a footnote to their feelings, and she couldn’t blame them. Any summer previous would have seen Lily laughing at the prospect of dating someone without telling them who she really was.

But 1976 was the summer of after, the summer when her wand stayed tucked away in her trunk upstairs, when Spinner’s End was no man’s land and Diagon Alley was a minefield. This summer she wasn’t Evans or prefect or Gryffindor, just Lily from the third house on the street, the girl who went to boarding school each year and came back with no stories to tell.

Elliot was never really that curious—she told herself it was a comfort.

There were many quirks about him.  He liked introducing her to his friends as “Lily from Cokeworth,” and at first it was funny, like she was a duchess or a princess of her small town.  It grew tiresome after about a week. But his friends were kind and welcoming, and they asked gently about her life at school, and they didn’t balk at her lack of ability to answer. She’d never been very good at lying. They were four boys and two girls whose names she often forgot.

“Elliot,” she said lightly one night when they went to dinner at a nice (too nice) restaurant, “El, I can pay my share.”

Elliot just smiled and kissed her cheek. “Nonsense,” he said, “my girl doesn’t pay for anything.”

Gryffindor Lily—tucked away in a little pocket in her chest—fumed red at the statement. Gryffindor Lily paid for herself, even if it meant leaving only a few pounds left to spend for the week. Gryffindor Lily did not say nonsense. But this was Summer Fling Lily, who wore light blue bell-bottom jeans and white bandanas in her hair. Summer Fling Lily would be alright with heedless lavishing, no matter if it didn’t make sense.

(read more on AO3)

[the-demelza-robins]

I love your muggle au! ❤️ I like your Lily a lot (I like Roger less)

thanks so much! I, too, do not like Roger 😼

[vyta]

credit: @readbeantofu on TWT

[89tv]

THIS!!! PART!!!

[artbyflor]

chilling after some quidditch practice

[moonawrites]

For Jily - “Please just look at me while I confess, after that you can look anywhere you like, I swear.”

Sirius Black has had enough.

Enough of James’ pining and whining and dramatic sighing. It’s embarrassing, but more than that, it’s just fucking annoying. He and everyone else in the entire school knows he’s in love with Lily. Everyone except for Lily.

Incidentally, Sirius has had enough of Lily too. Enough of her longing stares and painful, trying so hard to be nonchalant it actually hurts to witness questions. Everyone knows she’s in love with James too, except the idiot himself.

What’s worse is both of them refuse to admit it, not only to each other, but to everyone else too. So as he so often has to with friends this stupid, Sirius takes matters into his own hands.

“So you’re really not into Evans, right?” he asks James at breakfast one day.

James chokes on his coffee and coughs for a bit, eyes bugging a bit. But then, predictably, he says, “Um, yeah, no. Not at all. Why? Haven’t we been over this?”

Sirius smiles. “Oh, good. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

James narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Just, you know. You’re so unbearable when you have a crush.”

James does not look convinced, but Sirius decides it’s time to shift the conversation to the match coming up this weekend, and so it’s forgotten.

Until dinner. They head over to their usual spot at the end of the Gryffindor table, but Sirius jogs ahead and slips into the seat next to Lily before James has a chance. Both of them look a bit surprised, but neither comments.

“This colour looks really pretty on you, Lily,” Sirius says casually. He only notices what colour she’s wearing after he says it – a nice baby blue, so at least it isn't a blatant lie. Lily looks a bit taken aback, but she smiles at him.

“Thanks! I like it too.”

Deciding to play it up a bit, Sirius flits his fingers over the material from her shoulder to her upper arm. Then he makes a show of freezing, as if just realizing what he’s doing, and abruptly drops his hand. “It’s… yeah. It’s pretty.”

It takes a great deal of effort not to snort with laughter at the look on James’ face, like he can’t decide between looking suspicious or scandalized.

Sirius keeps it up for a good few days. He compliments Lily and finds excuses for innocent touches – imaginary lint on her sweater, hands brushing in the corridor, reaching for the same items at the table. All while James is there to see, of course. It all kind of makes him want to gag if he’s honest, but it’s a necessary evil, because he can see them starting to crack.

James becomes snappy and irritable around him, and he has no excuses when Sirius innocently asks why – after all, he hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He even had the good grace to confirm again and again that James did not fancy Lily.

Lily becomes nervous around him and tries to avoid him, tries to laugh off his flirting when she can’t – and Sirius lays it on thick. It’s all a credit to his immense talent as an actor that she doesn’t just laugh in his face – he’d done a great job of pretending to be hurt the first time she did.

He finally gets a chance to end it all for good when he gets paired with Lily for a Potions assignment. That evening when James announces that he’s off to the library to work on his own assignments, Sirius waits twenty minutes and then he rushes down to the common room and scans the room for Lily. She’s sitting on the ground at one of the tables by the fire, books and parchments spread out in front of her.

“Hey, are you busy right now?” he asks when he walks over.

Lily jumps a bit and glances up from her books. “Um, a bit. I was just working on the Transfig assignment.”

“I thought we could head to the library to start on research for the Potions assignment,” Sirius suggests. “I’ll be busy with Quidditch this week, it would be good to get started early.”

Lily chews on her lip, looking like she wants to refuse. But in the end she just nods. Sirius surreptitiously studies the map while Lily packs up her stuff, and deduces that James is sitting at their usual table in the back right corner of the library. He makes a show of acting jittery and nervous while they walk, brushing it off with a shaky laugh when Lily asks if he’s okay.

Sirius pretends to consider which table they should sit at, before leading them to the table on the other side of the shelf from the one James is at. He knows James will be able to hear them, they’ve spent many hours eavesdropping while they studied in that spot.

Sirius scours the shelves and picks out some good books, and then he actually works with Lily for a bit – eventually they’ll have to work on the assignment for real anyways, he may as well multitask. But not long into their work, he straightens up and fixes Lily with a serious look.

“Lily, I have to tell you something.”

Lily jumps slightly and glances up at him. “Is it important? I’m in the middle of reading.”

“Yeah, it’s very important. I’ve been holding it in for a long time, and I just can’t anymore.”

On the other side of the shelf, he hears a chair scraping back. Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to stop his lips from twitching into a smile. He has to keep acting nervous.

“I... um, maybe you shouldn’t,” Lily says quietly.

“Why not? I know James used to fancy you, but he told me he doesn’t anymore. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Lily’s eyes widen just slightly, but she doesn’t look surprised that the conversation has led them here. She gives Sirius an almost pitying look, and he barely stops the eyeroll. As if.

“I really can’t hold it in anymore,” Sirius says, as if the words pain him. Lily swallows and looks away. Looks at her notes, at the shelves of books next to her, at the ground, everywhere but at him.

“Sirius, I really don’t think now’s the time. We should get back to work.”

“Do you know how hard it was keeping this from you both back when James fancied you? It was torture, Lily,” Sirius says with anguish. “And now I don’t have to anymore. I can tell you the truth.”

“Oh my God,” Lily whispers, panicked. “Please don’t, please don’t say anything.” She still won’t look at him.

“Lily, I have to do this. I have to do it for me, or I’ll go crazy,” Sirius insists. “I deserve to speak my truth. I’ve suffered in silence for long enough, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Lily whines, and she stares up at the ceiling. “Please kill me.”

“Please just look at me while I confess,” Sirius begs. “After that you can look anywhere you like, I swear.” She doesn’t, but Sirius soldiers on. “Lily, I’m in lo– ”

“You can’t!” Lily yells, lunging forward and slapping a hand over his mouth. A few people several tables down turn to look at them. “You can’t. I’m in love with James,” Lily admits, as if the words have been ripped from her throat, and she looks so anguished Sirius almost feels bad.

On the other side of the shelf, a very familiar voice yells “What?” and then there’s a commotion. It sounds like a chair gets knocked over and books flung off the table. James curses several times. Footsteps thunder down the aisle, and then James appears at the end of their own aisle, looking flushed and flustered. His hair is more disheveled than usual, as if he’d been tugging on it in distress.

Lily clears her throat and drops her hand, awkwardly patting Sirius’ cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to smack you that hard.” And then it seems to catch up to her that James is there. James, who she has just confessed to being in love with.

Sirius sighs heavily and stands up. “Well, that was fucking miserable, but my work here is done.” He stretches and grabs his bag. “Enjoy your awkward conversation.” He pats Lily’s shoulder on his way past her, and then James’ when he reaches him.

“If you fuck this up after all my suffering, I’m going to murder you with my bare hands.”

[tobi-tobi-tobi]

-lily evans