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lovelyboredone · 3 months ago

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Whispers in the Dark

“And—I dunno. They’re barking mad but I love them. I’m an only child so I imagine you understand now why I’m like this.” He makes a rare self-deprecating gesture towards himself, something the James from a year ago would never have done. It makes Lily break into a real laugh. “And this,” Lily mirrors his gesture, “meaning…” James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. “This meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other people’s personal lives.”

When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing. But if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught? Oneshot, Rated T--- AO3 Link Here

Fifth Year

By the time Lily was awarded her badge, James Potter was already bestowed a nickname among the prefects: The Shadow.

“Don’t you think that's a bit too ominous for a git who just mucks around all night?” Next to her, Remus snorts but keeps his eyes low.

“You won’t understand until you have your first patrol—it's like he just…disappears.” The way the Head Boy says it, it makes James sound like some sort of spectre plaguing the corridors, not some untidy haired knob trying to explode the toilets. Lily’s eyes sink as Remus covers a cough that suspiciously sounds like a laugh.

“Care to elaborate on your mate then, Remus?” She flashes him an innocent smile. Even under the newfound pressure he doesn’t straighten, rather pulling a pack of muggle cigarettes out of his cloak and tapping it on his knee.

“Nothing to say,” Remus replies cooly, shooting Lily an equally saccharine grin, “just that you better hope he never hears about his little nickname if you don’t want him to be even more incorrigible.”

“Why? I thought you boys dug little nicknames.” She narrows her eyes, accepting the challenge to get him to respond with anything other than collected nonchalance.

“Trust me on this one—he will be unbearable.”

* * * * *

The worst part of it all is that the senior prefects weren’t wrong, he really would just be there.

“Alright Evans?”

She whips around, wand already poised. The corridors leading to the dungeons are more shadowed than the rest of the school, but her eyes have already adjusted to the dark and from what she can tell, she is alone.

“Potter—I’m not in the mood.”

There’s a shuffle and she hears a boy's voice murmur ‘when is she ever’ before a round of clipped laughs trickle in the darkness. She turns again, trying to find the source.

“You gits—I know you are here and I'll give you detention whether I can see you or not.”

She turns again and lets out a small gasp. James stands at the far reaches of her wand light, eyes dancing with mirth behind the reflection of his glasses.

“Congratulations on the ah…promotion,” he grins and she feels the bristle of anger pull at the hair on her neck.

She wants to prove herself as the only muggleborn prefect—and what better way than to catch this so-called Shadow. She takes a cautious step forward, worried he will skitter away like a wild animal if she moves too quickly. James just continues to grin, a hand grasping something shimmery behind his back.

“You’re not supposed to be out.” She takes another step and he eyes her warily.

“Oh, is that right?” He makes a show of looking around, brow furrowed in confusion. “Wow–sorry about that! Guess I got the time confused.” Another round of muffled laughter comes from behind him.

“C’mon, I’m escorting you back to the tower.” She moves to grab his arm but he jumps backwards, running into something that she can’t see but an oof and hey! ring out from the shadows.

“As much as I’d love a romantic stroll with you Evans, I’m actually late to another engagement,” he tuts, his smile turning into a sly grin. The hand that has been behind his back lifts up and a portion of his arm disappears, then the rest of his body until his face hovers completely detached in the dark.

“Raincheck though?” His grin hangs in the air for a second longer before the darkness takes him, but his presence still lingers. Nothing remains but the cold feeling of being watched.

* * * * *

She’s still not used to it. The random appearances, the floating grins, the whispers in the dark which make her feel like she is living in a rabbit hole rather than a castle. It’s no wonder the prefects leave catching him up to Filch these days—he haunts them.

“Hey Evans—”

She hopes that wherever he is hiding, he doesn’t see her jump. Turning towards the sound of his voice, he appears just a couple of steps away, hand already running through his hair.

“I’ll make you a deal Potter, if you fuck off and don’t talk to me, I won’t give you detention.”

She expects him to consider it, but he doesn’t. His eyes are missing the glimmer they usually have when she runs into him at night. Instead, he keeps his head bowed, a frown weighing down his features.

“I came to talk…to apologize for today.”

She doesn’t want to hear it. Turning on her heel she stalks off in the other direction but he catches up easily.

“I don’t want some fake apology. I want you to leave me alone.”

Of course he doesn’t listen. He keeps her stride, angling his face to catch her eyes with his.

“It’s not fake–I really am sorry,” he gasps out, “ I was a git and never expected for Snive–Snape to say those things about you–.”

She stops dead in her tracks, her whole body contracting in anger.

“Sorry? Are you sorry for all the other times you have bullied him too? Sorry for all the other shite you do to everyone around you? I don’t want your apology from you or from him–and I especially don’t want to rehash it with you right now.”

James doesn’t coil back, eyeing her with a brooding pain that feels out of place on his features.

“I know he was your friend. He shouldn’t say those things to you–friends don’t do that.”

It catches her off guard. She certainly isn’t looking for friendship advice from Potter, but he also has hit the nerve that’s been plaguing her all day.

“I know I’m an arsehole–especially to Snape...but I’d never say something like that to my mates…or to you.”

Her eyes start to sting but the thought of crying in front of him feels like the most incorrigible thing that could possibly happen. She jerks away, stumbling in the direction they had come from.

“Leave me alone—please.”

He doesn’t follow her like last time and she forces herself forward, rubbing the tears from her eyes. At the end of the corridor, she turns around, expecting to see him standing where she left him and some sick part of her hopes for it. But he has listened for once: he is gone—actually gone.

* * * * *

She wishes she could disappear as easily as he could right about now.

“Uhm… Evans?” James leans against the trophy case, a wet rag hanging at his side on his pointer finger.

She calculates the possibility of turning around and pretending she never entered. Zero to none. On the table, a detention slip sits idly. A scratchy hand reads:

James Potter, Gryffindor, 5th year

Offense: Hexing and physical altercation with Slytherin boys ( 5th and 6th years)

Punishment: Trophy polishing—2 hours

She sighs, placing the paper down and settling her bag on the floor. “Filch is out dealing with a hinkypunk—I’m surveilling tonight.” She doesn’t look at him, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. “So, go on—I’m told you have some trophies to polish.”

James’ eyes remain wide as he nods, turning back to the case. With his back to her, she steals a moment to take him in—his shoulders are squared and there is something more wooden about his movements than she remembers. They haven’t spoken since she told him to leave her alone and she wonders if that’s the reason she hasn’t been seeing him as often. She hates to admit it, but patrols have become boring without him.

Too busy deciphering his body language, she doesn’t catch him pulling his wand out of his pocket. With one swish, all the trophies gleam.

“Hey! That’s not the punishment.”

He turns, an eyebrow cocked upwards. “Yes it is, you said to polish the trophies… So I did.”

Arrogant little shit. She hates when he’s right—which unfortunately is more often than she wants to admit. She sits on the ground and starts to fish through her bag, pulling out a transfiguration textbook and a parchment.

“Fine, fine. Then just be quiet over there—I have to get this essay finished.”

But she’s a fool to think that he will follow directions. He makes it about thirty seconds before he is up off the ground, coming to lean down and read over her shoulder with his head tilted downwards.

“It’s pretty good so far but you mis-characterized the difference between illusionment and deflection charms.”

She looks up with an insult already poised on her lips but is stopped short by the proximity of his face. Leaning down, his glasses are slipping off and she can see a small bruise blooming on his cheekbone just under his rims.

“Did a Slytherin give you that?”

He pokes at the bruise curiously, also just noticing it.

“Ah bugger.” He sits down next to her, splaying his legs in front of him while leaning on his hands. “Mulciber’s work I think. He’s fine at dueling but shite at punching—surprised he even got a decent hit.”

“So what, you’ve moved on to physical violence for fun?”

He whips his head around. For once, his eyes are absent of anything other than seriousness.

“No actually. Just sticking up for my friends.” His stare is so intense she has to look away.

“I think Black can stick up for himself fine.”

“Yeah, Sirius can, but Remus can’t—not always.”

Now it’s her turn to stare. She had been curious as to why Remus hadn’t been on patrols earlier. It was hard to imagine him in a real argument, much less a physical scuffle.

“Is he ok? Remus I mean.” The worry in her voice softens his gaze a bit, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah—he’s…he’s going to be fine.” James teeters off, something hidden behind his words.

“Well–I’m glad.” She means it, though it feels understated. Her mind wanders to how often Severus would theorize about Remus’ absences and pushes away the idea that he could be behind the fight.

“Do you want something? I mean for the bruise?” She rummages around in her bag again and pulls out a vial of white liquid. Handing it to him, he eyes it warily before opening the bottle and giving it a sniff.

“It’s Mountain Arnica. I made it myself—heals cuts and scrapes pretty well.”

James pulls his glasses up to his forehead and uses the pad of his finger to dab some onto the bruise. She makes a subconscious note that his eyes are much clearer without the glasses covering them.

“You getting into a lot of tussles to warrant a bottle of this?” He flashes her a sly smile, warming back into form.

She shrugs. “In second and third there were some Slytherins that liked to bother me. I guess I got used to carrying it.”

All amusement drops from his face, eyes flooding with concern. “But I thought you were mates with Snape.”

“Yeah well,” she sighs, “we’ve both seen Snape’s track record for sticking up for me.”

She waits for a cutting jab at Severus’ expense but he gives none.

“Thanks for this,” he says and reaches the vial back out.

“No, you keep it.” She doesn’t know what compels her, but she gives him the first genuine smile in years, “I’m sure you can find better use for it.”

The smile he offers back feels warm, real.

“Thank Evans,” he says as he slips the vial into his pocket.

“Remus will love it.”

* * * * *

For once, and unfortunately so, she finds him completely visible.

“Ah don’t be such a puss Evans. James was just escorting me back to my dorms.”

She finds the two walking down past the kitchens, easily detected by the way Olivia’s voice bounces off the cold stone of the corridors.They weren’t touching when she caught sight of them, but as she approaches, Olivia clasps onto James’ limp arm, giggling with a coy smile.

“Don’t know if you can read a clock, but whatever you could have possibly been doing to need an escort was already past curfew.”

James shifts his weight, being more silent than she has ever seen him in five years combined. Olivia gives another high pitched giggle, tightening her hold on his arm.

“Sorry Evans, we were just busy. Lost track of time y’know?” Lily can feel her dinner resurfacing in the back of her throat.

“Well, I don’t care to know about your extracurriculars,” she turns her head, hoping to mask the flush she can feel on her cheeks, “it’s still twenty points each and a round of detention.”

James raises his head and eyes her with a curiosity that she is unwilling to acknowledge. Beside him, Olivia feigns a pout.

“Ah, bugger. Well, I guess that means we will be seeing each other again, right James?”

Lily’s eyes flick over to him. His curiosity has settled into a tense stare, eyes blown out and focused solely on her.

“Er, probably not,” he says with a wooden tone. Olivia’s eyes narrow, her fingers uncurling slightly from his bicep but not letting go.

As per protocol, she escorts them the short distance to the Hufflepuff dorm which they do in silence. Olivia keeps herself attached to James’ arm, but he gives no reciprocation, letting it swing loose at his side. At the entrance, Olivia casts another hopeful glance at him, expecting some form of goodnight, but he remains distant, pulling his arm away from hers like removing an annoying arm brace. With a huff, Olivia ducks into the common room without as much as a goodbye.

With Olivia gone, it’s business as usual and Lily escorts James back to the tower like she’s done so many nights already. But instead of the teasing, the idle small talk, the quippy banter, James remains quiet, their steps echoing through the halls.

Even in the silence, even with James’ new pensive behavior, Lily feels lighter with Olivia gone. She steals a glance at him and she can see there is red blotching under the rims of his glasses, eyes focused only ahead at the darkness. A sick part of her wants to demand what he was doing with Olivia– wants to hear it even if she knows her stomach will fill with bile from the answer.

“I really was just walking her back.” His voice cuts through the silence, clear and firm.

So maybe he is a mind reader now.

Like him, she doesn’t stop walking. “Bad luck Potter. Maybe next time choose a snog partner who can be a little quieter.” She means to tease, but her voice is cutting, filled with a malice she didn’t realize she was holding.

He stops and she feels fingers curl against her elbow. For the first time that night, their eyes lock.

“I wasn’t going to snog her.”

She ignores the feeling that her heart is about to take flight and searches his face for a glimmer of sarcasm.

“Coming from you, a serial liar, it's hard to believe.” She snorts.

“But I’ve never lied to you.”

She doesn’t know what to say. Suddenly, the corridor becomes very hot, the hand still holding her by the elbow now constrictive.

“Whatever, just drop it Potter, It’s really none of my business.”

And he does drop it, letting go of her elbow and taking a few strides in front of her. She rushes to catch up, wondering who is leading who back to the dorms now.

Their newfound silence and the change in power dynamic makes something like anger take form, twisting her guts into a perilous place of recklessness.

“Y’know, you could do a lot better than Olivia Gueresso.” She waits for a physical reaction but nothing comes.

“Well it’s not like you're interested.” He says. His voice is so low and so quick she almost misses it. Almost.

“Potter–” she warns, but James is already bounding through the portrait, hand passing through his hair. She follows him down the tunnel, footsteps echoing around them.

She doesn’t know what else she wants from him, but if they reach the firelight of the common room it will be too late.

“Hey, Potter,” she calls louder and the sound bounces. He turns quickly on his heel and Lily runs straight into him, ricocheting back against his chest. Two calloused hands steady her by her shoulders.

“You know Evans, you’re really lovely in the candlelight.”

It’s that look again. His eyes glazed on her like there is nothing else in existence. It’s the second time he has touched her that hour but this time it feels familiar, perhaps even welcome.

“What are you—”

But the light of the fireplace takes him. He lopes away up to his dorm, not even giving a goodnight.

* * * * *

Sixth Year

He wants to be caught.

Like normal, he steps out of the shadows but it no longer jars her like it did back in fifth. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him at the welcome ceremony but now she can see he has grown over summer. His body is somehow more lean and muscular all at once; his hair wilder, curling farther down his neck. Instead of his typical urge to immediately run a hand through it the second he spots her, his arms stay casual by his sides.

“Trying to be awarded the first detention of the year, Potter?” She says cooly, but her heart is already betraying her—something it’s been doing more and more often as her thoughts drifted to him over the summer.

“If it’s from you, it would be an honor.” His grin grows, his dimple more pronounced.

Lily attempts to scoff, but finds it much more bearable to avert her eyes. Maybe he had stumbled into some good candlelight, but the longer he remains in front of her the more it’s clear what’s so different about him: he is now infuriatingly fit.

“Ok–so where’s the gang? Might as well give it up since you are getting detention no matter what.”

His smile doesn’t waver. “No gang-–I’m solo tonight.”

She dares to look him in the eyes, ignoring the whooshing feeling in her chest. He’s telling the truth.

“Alright, so what? You gonna get early revenge on the Slytherins by yourself?”

He makes a humming noise and his cheeks start to take on a bit more color.

“No– actually I just wanted to see you.”

It stops all of her thoughts dead. Something about how a small blush colors his cheeks makes her heart beat a bit faster.

“And you couldn’t see me at dinner or in the common room like a normal person?”

“Yeah well, it’s not like any of our mates would act normal if I tried to ask about your summer over the welcome feast,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair, now clearly a move of anxiety more than arrogance.

She takes a small step towards him. “That’s really what you want, Potter? You broke school rules on night one to ask me about my holidays?”

“I mean—-yes?” He rubs a hand through his hair again, eyes starting to shift away. A rush of something that resembles pride takes over her. James Potter is feeling sheepish because of me.

She lets him stew for a minute, mostly to take in the rare power she is wielding before giving him a smirk.

“So do it.”

“Do what?” James gives her an incredulous look, face now so red he could have been slapped.

“Ask about my summer—or did you already forget that’s what you are here for?”

It takes a second, but a grin breaks out on his face, returning him back to form. “Alright Evans—how was your summer?”

Lily hums clasping her hands behind her back. “Well my dad died so—”

“Bloody hell,” James runs both hands through his air, all facial features frozen in complete shock. “I mean, Godric, Evans I’m so sorry–that’s…that’s…”

Lily waves a hand in dismissal to distract from any emotion that could be peaking on her face.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. He was a raging arsehole anyways.”

He looks at her, eyes wide and fixated. “Yeah but still—is your mum ok?”

She looks down the hall, trying to stay nonchalant. “Yeah, I mean she’s fine—seeing as she’s been dead since fourth year.”

“Godric Fuck.” He does a quick spin on his heels, taking a step away from her with his head in his hands before turning back.

“I’m– shit--How did I not know this?”

Lily frowns at him, tilting her head. “What do you mean? It’s not like we’re close or anything.”

Something about saying that feels false but she pushes the thought away.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we’ve been in the same class, same house since we were eleven. I reckon I’d at least know something—something like that.”

She finds it quite endearing that he reels from this—that they could cohabitate in the same space for so long without knowing the most basic facts about the other. He continues to rub his face in his hands, looking more tortured by the second.

“Well, to be fair, I don’t know anything about your family either.” She offers.

He straightens up a bit, sensing her attempt to level the playing field. A glimmer of discomfort still sits in his eyes and despite her being the one newly orphaned, she feels a pull to comfort him.

“Well go on,” she prods, hoping to shift attention away from her, “Tell me about yours. I know they are purebloods…”

He raises an eyebrow, wary to move away from her loss, but letting her take the lead.

“There’s not much to say—”

Lily bats her eyes, urging him forward. He sighs.

“They are still together and disgustingly still in love, which I guess I should appreciate.”

It makes her giggle, thinking about some old wizarding couple making kissing faces while James feigns puking in the corner. His shoulders relax further, leaning into her amusement.

“And?”

“And this,” Lily mirrors his gesture, “meaning…”

James grins, and it does something downright delectable to her heart. “This meaning an arrogant git who is too thick to notice other people’s personal lives.”

It is a sentiment she would have agreed with a thousand times in the past, but hearing it from him now makes her reconsider. It might have been true a year ago, but the boy standing in front of her is decidedly changed—for one she likes standing next to him in the dark corridor.

But she can’t say that.

“Your words.” She doesn’t elaborate but she offers him a real smile, not one with any edge to it and he returns it.

“Yeah,Evans. My words.”

* * * * *

It starts a sort of friendship between them.

He learns her schedule quickly, finding her in various places of the castle on any given day. She questions him about how he does it: disappears and reappears, knows exactly where she’s going to be despite intentionally changing her route to confuse him— but he never answers more than a teasing finger wag. “I’ll never reveal my secrets–you know that Evans.”

He no longer hides from her but hides from the others to get to her. Once found, he appears as usual but with conversation already on his lips. He asks about her life, about the muggle world, about music and films and anything that he can think of—making good on all the lost time in the past six years they have been so close but knew nothing of each other. In turn, she does the same: she finds out that Sirius moved in with the Potters, that his dad is celebrated for a hair taming potion that miraculously doesn’t work on his own son (“I swear, it’s my genes Evans, it openly rejects the stuff—I can’t help it.”), that he likes autumn and quidditch in the rain and the color green…

And she is surprised how much she starts to look forward to it. Time has treated him well, the looming war knocking more sense into him than previous years. Instead of being arrogant and self serving, he listens intently, hanging on her every word. They talk passionately about the rising conflict with blood purity and their shared disdain for the dark arts, life after school, their fears for the future. They have more light-hearted moments too: he charms the corridors to play music, daring to take her hand and dance down the hall, brings her a bit of warm bread with cinnamon and sugar from the kitchens, and consistently offers her silly anecdotes that make her laugh harder than she thinks she ever has in her life. Even the silence is comfortable—warm and encompassing like she imagines his physical touch would be if one of them just made the move…

“God, I love Halloween.”

They sit inside a bay window in the charms corridor, pulling out candy from a plastic bucket shaped like a grinning jack-o-lantern.

“Alright Evans, what in Godric's green potion is this bloody candy?” He holds up a package of candy corn and she giggles, snapping it out of his hands.

“Don’t act like you’re too good for muggle candy—we both know how disgusting the wizarding stuff can be.”

James feigns aghast, clenching his chest. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t like bogey flavored sugar beans–how could you Evans? An outrage!”

She lets out a real laugh, one that makes her head tilt back. He’s been making her do that more with each meeting and every time she does the same look crosses his face: one of triumph mixed with something tender.

“Here, just try one—I swear it can’t be worse than anything you’ve already tasted.”

His eyes squint in a mischievous way, turning his head back and forth like a baby refusing a spoon.

“Nope, no way.”

She leans over more, encroaching into his personal space to poke his tightened mouth with the tip of the candy.

“C’mon Potter? Where’s your courage? Your sense of adventure? Your—”

He opens his mouth, sucking in the piece. Her hand falls to his lips, feeling the warm press of his tongue on the pads of her fingers.

She jerks back, her face blazing hot. Something burning and raw takes over her senses, flooding all vision.

“Sorry,” he sputters, trying to not choke through his flustering, “I didn’t–”

She doesn’t wait to talk herself out of it. She leans back in, pressing the soft line of her lips to his. His mouth immediately molds into hers. Eager and warm, he tastes like sugar and something unmistakably him.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she pulls up for air, “ I just wanted to know…we don’t have to—,” but a calloused hand cups her cheek, pulling her mouth back to skim over his.

“I don’t want your apology,” he whispers and the heat of his breath makes the room spin, “but I would like you to kiss me again.”

Her mouth is already opening, slotting into place with his. He sighs into her and she can’t think of a more wonderful sound in the world.

“Alright Potter, I’ll allow it.”

* * * * *

“Are you sure they can’t see us?” It comes out more as a pant than a sentence. James’ lips are working down her neck, hands taking advantage of her open shirt to explore undiscovered skin.

He hardly lifts his mouth and her body reacts to the heat of his breath, arching forwards into him for more.

“We can go somewhere else...”

Her mind is screaming a loud, resounding yes, but the clock is telling her she still has an hour of patrols. She forces her eyes open. Looking past the hazy screen of James’ cloak she can see the portraits sleeping soundly as though they never existed. Between the discovery of an invisibility cloak and the feel of James' body against hers, it's too much for her to take in at once.

He lets out a sigh and she feels the words so lovely being mouthed into her skin. Everything is crackling around her, the world disappearing besides him and his hands and his tongue now dragging lower…

“Tomorrow,” she gasps. “Find me tomorrow right when I get off patrol—-then take me anywhere you want.”

James detaches his mouth and looks up at her, his swollen lips hung open in wonder.

“Does that mean we need to stop today?”

He tries to pull back, but she grips onto him, not ready to lose the hard line of his body against hers just yet. There’s still an hour left of patrols, but is it not still patrolling if she can see the corridor?

She pushes up on her toes to capture his mouth again, their lips slanting together in hot melding kisses.

“No–never stop.”

* * * * *

It turns out James Potter can actually follow directions. The next night he shows up with only five minutes left of patrols to spare and they don’t waste a second to slot together, making good on the promise to go wherever he pleases.

Over time her speculation of his invisibility cloak lessens, almost preferring the danger of it to the dingy passageways and small alcoves that he pulls her into each night. But she will take whatever she can get—waiting impatiently through her patrols for that moment when he slides out of the darkness to pull her back in with him.

In the safety of the cloak or the darkness of some secret hiding spot, she feels a hunger she has never experienced. It’s almost pavlovian in nature—the second the clock nears eleven, her body vibrates at the thought of him, prickling under the anticipation of his touch. When reunited, they wedge together like two pieces of the same stone, hands and mouths frantic and roaming, words coming out in soft sighs and quiet pants that rise into the air like smoke.

Patrols are no longer enough and nights feel achingly short for the amount of desire they have for each other. Their meetings start to seep into the daytime— ending up in the same passageways and closets but now with the added danger of roaming students and curious friends. During classes, they steal glances and sometimes dare to sit beside each other to let hands travel deliciously out of sight. When no one is looking, they pass notes between classes, trying to convey all the sweeping emotions into tiny phrases like I can’t wait to see you, I need you, you are so lovely, you make me so happy.

It stays like this for days, then weeks. Him always coming to find her, her letting him take the world away. Their time together always a sure thing.

Until it isn’t.

A quarter past eleven and he hasn’t shown up. She stands in the hall, one of the many recurring places he has found in her the past couple weeks. Her body still vibrates on cue, hungry to feel the scrape of his hands on her, but mentally she knows that something seems wrong.

Would it be impossible for him to not come?

Hearing a noise echo down the hall she turns on her heel, excitement flooding her cheeks, but instead of James loping out of the shadows, someone else stands there, face twisted like a predator hunting prey.

“You look happy to see me.” Antonin Dolohov purrs out, his eyes scanning down her body with a salacious grin.

“It’s past curfew Dolohov. That’s 20 points and two days detention.” She doesn't let his lewd gaze affect her, keeping her chin high while her hand hovers over her wand pocket.

“Detention,” he tuts, “I much prefer doing the detaining if you catch my drift, but I’m interested in how a mudblood like you plans to go about it.”

He takes a step forward and Lily pulls out her wand, pointing it straight between his eyes.

“Enough.”

His smile twists again, nonplussed by the threat. “ I see why Snape has always had such a hard on for you, Evans. You are a pretty girl for a mudblood. Why don’t you be a good little girl and get on your knees for me like you do to keep old Slughorn—

“Stupefy.”

She doesn’t even blink. The proximity of her wand to his forehead makes him knock back and he lands with a thud on the ground. The anger and fear that has been mounting since he appeared boils over and rushes out of her, her wand hand moving on its own accord. She can hear herself as though through a tunnel, hitting Dolohov’s motionless body with spell after spell, each one landing and sizzling into him like a lightning rod. Tears fall hot and globbing on her cheeks.

Lily! Lily!

She feels strong and familiar arms wrap around her, pulling the wand out of her hand and throwing it to the ground. She makes heaving noises, pushing away from James as he wrestles her in his arms, trying to reach her through the fury.

“Lily, that’s enough, You have to stop.”

But something inside her doesn’t want to stop. Her time with James has been a good distraction, but she is tired. Tired of the blood purity talks, tired of the endless bullying and spiteful words, tired of forever being a freak no matter what she does and no matter how much she tries to prove herself. Her prefect badge, her good grades, her perfect transitions from one world to the next will never be enough, because people like Dolohov won’t let it.

Her legs give out, letting the tears fall in choked sobs. James collapses on the ground with her, pushing her head into his chest, letting his shirt become soaked through.

“You didn’t come…” She cries out. It’s the smallest of the things on her mind, but it’s the only one she can accurately put into words.

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just coming to find you—-Sirius’ mum had sent him a howler and–”

“So now you're selfish too,” she hisses to herself. Pushing herself into him more, she tries to calm the animal noises that keep spilling from her mouth. From behind them, Dolohov groans, some of the hexes starting to wear off.

“Lily, I need you to breathe. We need to get out of here—did he touch you?” He pulls back to surveille her.

She is still taking ragged, shallow breaths, eyes burning from the salt of her tears. Sounds echo from down the corridor and James quickly scrambles to pull her into his arms, hoisting her into a cradle against his chest.

Like always, they disappear together, this time behind a tapestry where there is enough room for them to spread out—though they don’t.

“It’s alright–I’m right here.”

She clings to him, and he continues to whisper comforting words, caressing her hair, her ears, her neck. Finally, she drifts off to sleep, the smell of him and the rhythm of his breathing the only thing tethering her from some sort of madness.

* * * * *

Seventh Year

“Lily, please–”

But she keeps walking down the corridor, actively looking in directions that are anywhere but at him.

“I’m not going to give up. Why did you stop answering my letters? Everything was so—so perfect…”

It had been. The summer days were spent writing letters back and forth, exchanging photos, filling in for time spent apart. At first they had to come up with creative excuses to see each other without anyone finding out (“Oh, well I was just thought a quick run to Diagon Alley would be nice.”) before Dumbledore gifted them with the greatest excuse of all (“Sirius, you’ll be at your Uncle’s, yeah? Lily is popping in to do some Heads’ planning—don’t worry, it will be more of a chore…”).

The days they spent that summer bouncing between each other’s houses were some of the best she had ever experienced. Safe from the wandering eyes of classmates, they held hands openly, caressed each other without shame, and spoke admiringly for the first time in normal speaking voices. They snuck into the other’s house at night, crawling into the other’s bed unable to wait the days or hours to press together again, unable to bear wasting another second without their breaths intertwining, bodies always unimaginably hungry for the other’s touch.

But then there was silence.

“Is it about the sex? Because we can go back to taking things slow I don’t–”

“Of course it’s not about the bloody sex,” she spits out, unable to contain her shock. “That—that was incredible but–”

“But what? Lily, I’m going mad. Ask Sirius–I've nearly burrowed a path into my sitting room floor from all the pacing I did in the last week.”

She doesn’t want to look him in the eye because she knows if she does he will see it all: Snape coming to her door, warning her about the Dark Lord’s rising, his plan to kill anyone who is a traitor to his cause…

If I did something, I will fix it, I swear,” his voice cracks, tears on the brink of falling, “I just…really need you back. I miss you.”

This time it’s her turn to disappear. She continues walking down the hall, snuffing out her wand light so he is left in the dark.

* * * *

He isn’t looking for her, but he gravitates towards her anyway.

He was lucky he didn’t miss her entirely. Way up in the highest rung of the stands, the light of the stars betray her by reflecting auburn hair like a beacon. He knows it’s only self-sabotage at this point to approach, having spent exactly two weeks now with no communication whatsoever, but he does it anyway because he can see her shivering from all the way down on the pitch—and because he has never been able to resist her, even now.

“It’s too cold to be out here like that.”

He takes off his quidditch cloak and offers it to her, but she doesn’t even look at it, staring off into the distance.

Taking her silence as an invitation, he sits, leaving enough distance between them to show his caution. Just like in the candlelit corridors, the light from the stars mingle with the color of her eyes, making them glimmer like jewels on her face. It takes everything in his body not to reach for her, fearing that the sparkle will subside the minute he does.

“There’s a war out there,” she says, her voice hollow and cold like the wind.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

There’s silence again. The wind cuts through the stands and brushes her hair up into the air like fire dancing.

“The potions master I applied to apprentice under owled back today—he says he won’t accept my application because I’m a mudblood.”

His head jerks in her direction. He has never heard her say that word before. Instinctively his hands clench at his sides, anger like waves in his chest.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you, the tosser—-People should be lining up to work with you, you’re bloody brilliant.” He means every word, and he can tell she knows he means it too. A small, pitiful smile tugs at her lips.

“Bloody brilliant doesn’t change my birth—might as well revert back to a muggle at this rate…”

He doesn’t want to hear anymore. He stands and forces himself in front of her and she looks up at him with a deep, pained look.

“What has gotten into you? The Evans I know wouldn’t say shite like this. The Evans I love wouldn’t—”

He stops cold, watching her catch the word before he does. Love. The Evans he loves.

“You don’t want to love me,” she whispers, tears falling hot now against her cheeks.

“But I do—” It comes out as a gasp, the suffering of two weeks without her pouring out of him like a broken dam. “Is this what it’s all about? That you’ve decided you aren’t good enough?”

“I’m not though,” her voice rises, face twisting into a sob. “I’m not good enough for the bloody wizarding or muggle world, not good enough to find work after school, not good enough for you.”

The last word comes biting out and James freezes in place, feeling as though he has been stunned.

“Lily, what are you talking about? When have I ever, ever said you aren’t good enough for me.”

Her eyes dart around, hands thrashing to remove the tears that keep coming.

“You don’t have to say it. You’re a pureblood—I’ve heard the talk. The death eaters will come to your family eventually and ask for support. If I’m with you…” a sob cuts off her words. She stands up, preparing to bolt but he grabs her by the forearm, holding her there with the wind tugging at her hair.

“If you’re with me than fuck them.”

The tears make her eyes glimmer but not in the way he wants to see them. He expects her to try to run again, but she doesn’t.

“Lily, I don’t care. I don’t care. You could be half troll and I would still want to be with you. Don’t you see? This is what they want, for you to be afraid—to give up.”

He takes the chance to slide a hand onto her cheek, wiping away some of the tears she has failed to stop.

“I–I love you, Lily. And if you don’t want that because you don’t feel it back, then I will disappear. But if you don’t want it because you are scared then…then I won’t accept that.”

He searches her eyes, wondering if he is making the biggest mistake of his life by pushing her. She looks back and even with all the pain he can’t stop thinking about how absolutely lovely she looks in the moonlight. Her hair, her eyes—even the tears. He burns the image into his memory, knowing that even if it’s the last night next to her, at least he will have her beauty in this moment forever.

“I don’t want you to disappear.”

The wind carries her voice and places it right into his beating heart, suddenly as warm as sunlight.

“I don’t want you to disappear, because I love you too.”

* * * *

Now, they disappear into each other. Instead of dimly lit corridors, he pulls her into a kiss the second she leaves class. Whispers and hidden notes are replaced with laughter and shrieks of joy as he lifts her up and spins her after a quidditch game, not caring to even glimpse at the house cup. In the sunlight by the lake they tangle together, studying, laughing, snogging–especially snogging, making up for all the lost time in the weeks they were apart and for all the other years they could have been together. The night becomes a special place—one of nostalgia and hope. Instead of meeting in grimy alcoves, she follows his lead to his bed where they slot together like two pieces if a whole, trying to meld back as one.

He was always a beacon of light in the darkness, but in the sunlight he is breathtaking. Always a presence of comfort and joy and love. So much love that she wonders if she had ever felt it before—not even the love of family could compare to what he is capable of showing her. She gives it back tenfold, keeping him impossibly close and hoping she will never have to let go.

“James–you can’t just hide.”

It’s odd to see the shimmering movement of the cloak in the daylight. A muffled voice calls out from where he was just next to her, sheepish and frantic.

“Don’t mind me—just completely turned to dust from embarrassment.”

A smile cracks on her lips, her heart makes fluttering beats in her chest.

“You don’t have to answer me today—-or at all. We could just pretend it never happened.”

She reaches out towards where his voice is coming from, but hears his feet move back on the grass.

“James,” she sighs, “ I was going to say yes.”

It hangs in the air. She can practically feel his heartbeat from whatever distance away he stands hiding.

“So, if you would stop freaking out–” she adds, cheeks filling with pink, “I’d really like to kiss my new fiancé.”

His head pops out, floating detached in front of her. It would remind her of the first time she ever caught him past curfew, but instead of a mischievous grin, his face is flush and eyes blown wide.

“I’m not freaking out,” he murmurs, “But—just to be sure, did just call me your fiancé?”

She moves quickly, grabbing hold of the cloak and pulling herself under into his arms. She can feel his body buzzing against hers, fingers moving in shock to wrap around her body.

“Yes, I did,” she says, pressing her lips into his. “And yes, I will marry you.”

If the cloak falls away, they don’t notice. He picks her up and she wraps herself around him, the warmth of his skin and the May sunlight working in tandem. His shock has worn off and he kisses her in earnest, and she is more than happy to reciprocate.

They could have stayed like that for hours, days—it didn’t matter anymore. With him, everything else disappears.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #yallthemwitches #jily fanfiction

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lovelyboredone · 4 months ago

Text

Predatory in Nature

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

Today and tomorrow will be a double dose of some Sirius antics mixed with some fluff. Written for @jilytoberfest day 17: "It's cute when your face gets red like that."

AO3 Here

“Evans.”

She knows that sing-song voice from anywhere. Sirius Black lopes his way across the common room to take the seat across from her, grin looking downright sadistic in nature.

“Yes Black?” When she doesn’t look up from her parchment, he leans down onto his folded arms, craning his head to force eye contact upwards at her bowed head.

“I’m feeling very perturbed and I need you to assuage my fears.”

Lily tries to keep writing but he plucks the quill out of her hand, throwing it behind his shoulder.

“The fuck.” He ignores her annoyance, eyes setting into a firm stare.

“Are you snogging James?”

The room temperature increases and Lily now feels the sudden sensation that she is being hunted for sport.

“No–”

“Ok–Are you shagging James?”

Lily sputters, cheeks going rosy. “N-No.”

Of course the real answer is yes on both counts. A loud resounding one. It had been months of build-up, hours spent skiving off the last part of her patrols to lock themselves in various empty classrooms and passages, safely undiscovered from the comfort of darkness. But like the slow march of time, this moment was inevitable: that Sirius, the angel of death of all discretion, would come calling with suspicion.

He leans further against the table top. “You sure about that?”

She scoffs knowing well that her body language is betraying her. To cover, she tries to rip her parchment out from under him, but he smacks his hand down against it, not swayed by her antics.

“It’s cute how your cheeks get red like that when you're lying. So—once more for emphasis: are you or are you not snogging and/or shagging James Fleamont Potter—really dig deep here Evans.”

She leans back in her chair, eyes looking down at her lap. Of course he already knew the answer. This interrogation was just a formality—probably for his amusement more than anything else. Still, there was no use fighting it. She had been silly to even try.

“Maybe,” her voice teeters off, hands fiddling with the ends of her hair. “A little?”

Sirius blinks. “A little?”

She breaks, his whittling down of her defenses an annoyingly effective tactic.

“A lot! Alright, Black? You happy?” She gestures wildly into the air, face flushed.

“Son of a bitch.”

Lily starts to open her mouth, ready to capitulate, but he cuts her off, running a hand down his face.

“I mean—what an absolute tosspot—I didn’t want to believe Remus but—.”

“Wait–excuse me?” Lily drops all exasperation to squint at Sirius, absolutely confused. She expected lots of things from his discovery of her and James' relationship, but anger was not one of them.

“I mean, this is just rich—that bloody traitor, I mean this really stings.”

Lily stares at him, watching as Sirius shakes his head in discontent, running his hands through his hair. Her whole face is devoid of color, feeling like her body has gone numb.

“Sirius—if this is some god awful way of saying you fancy me—”

Sirius rears his head up, eyes maniacal.

“No Evans!—stop being egotistical and fucking keep up—”

He slams his hands onto the desk, before lowering his head as well, his long hair shrouding his face.

“James is keeping secrets—from me!” He says, voice like an animal that has been kicked by its owner. Lily blinks at him but she can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up from her chest, keeling over. Sirius lifts his head up to watch her through his hair, face twisted in a scowl.

“It’s not funny, Evans! This is serious!”

“You are completely mental–” Lily chokes out between breaks in laughter. “That is your takeaway from this?”

“What? You think I care if you are banging my mate? I mean, I’m happy he’s getting laid and it’s you but—,” he puts his head back in his hands, “why in the fuck would he keep it from me…”

The portrait hole swings open and like a sixth sense, both Sirius and Lily’s necks crane to watch James enter. He is still sweaty and out of breath from quidditch and he stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the two of them, eyes darting from one to the other as though he needs no further information to know what is going on.

Sirius wastes no time jumping to his feet and stalking towards him, finger guiding him until he is poking it into James’ chest.

“First of all, how bloody dare you.” James looks down at Sirius' finger and frowns before casting a pleading, withered look at Lily.

“Pads I–”

“You didn’t think I’d find out? Me? You know, your best mate who also happens to have access to–” his voice gets lower, hissing, “--a certain artifact that lets me know what you are up to?”

James stares at his mate, mouth a perfect o. Sirius pulls away and slowly stumbles back, waving a hand dismissively in the air.

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

“Black!” Lily stood up, hackles now raised and bounding for him. “Leave him alone, I told him to keep it quiet.”

Sirius looks down at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging ajar.

“You did wha—what is wrong with you? Why’d you do that?”

“Because if you knew then—then I dunno…” she teeters off but Sirius waits, expecting answers.

Something starts brimming under her eyes, and she loses all the momentum she had moments ago, feeling sidelined by emotion.

“If we told people, it would make it real, you know?”

Both boys stand in stunned silence.

“You don’t want it to be real?” James' voice is barely above a whisper. There is a sudden shift in the room, all of Sirius’ dramatics floating into the background.

Lily staggers towards him, cheeks ruddy. “No—that’s not what I mean. It’s just—we haven’t been talking about it and I’ve been happy when I’m with you—but if we were just mucking around for a laugh…I didn’t want to rock the boat and make this more of something than it is.” She knows she’s babbling, perhaps incomprehensible,“you know—assume you still wanted something more—”

James steps forward, putting his hands on Lily’s crossed arms.

“Lily, there is nothing, no one that could make me want to stop doing whatever it is we are doing together,” he pleads, “I’ll keep it a secret forever—I’ll make Sirius too if that's what it takes.” His voice is firm and he reaches for her cheek. “I want…everything with you.”

“Then why did you stop trying to ask me out? You know– properly.”

She doesn’t know how this conversation devolved to this point, how Sirius’ whole friendship infidelity act could have led her to say the thing she wanted to say to him for months now, but here she was, eyes feeling glassy.

“You wanted us to be a secret,” James whispers.

“Yeah, but maybe I want other things now.” Tears are rimming her eyes but James reaches her before they can fall. She lets him wrap her into his chest, nuzzling her nose into his jersey which smells sweetly of his sweat.

“So you want to? I mean—will you? Go out with me? In public?”

She looks up from his shirt. A grin has broken through his face like a burst of light.

“Yeah—I would.”

He presses his lips to hers, still smiling but hungry for her all the same. The world drops away and she feels their hands start to wrap to familiar places when a long whistle cuts through their small bubble of happiness.

Sirius now sat on top of the back of the sofa. All of the anger, the sadness, the betrayal he had so woefully lamented about earlier now wiped from his being. Instead, a devious air wafted off of him, grinning with the satisfaction of a mission accomplished.

“Wow–finally. Godric you two are so thick, at the rate you were going, you would have had a whole litter of children before going to Hogsmeade.” He flashes smirk, swinging his torso back and forth with playful ease.

“Sirius–” James warns, but Sirius’ barking laugh cuts through.

“When you’re married with little baby Prongs’, I hope you look back on this moment and remember I did this,” he plops his feet on the floor, starting for the dorms. The couple track his movements, now aware they are captives in an elaborate trap. “Also, I expect a glowing account of my acting ability to Remus and Peter. They didn’t think I could pull it off. What tossers—I mean honestly.”

#james potter #lily evans #jily #jily fanfiction #sirius black #james x lily #jilytober fest 2024 #i love this so much

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