#blarg writes Shakespearean Second Base

[gryffindormischief]

Hi please start writing hinny getting together au's again i love your writing so much

A/N: mmmm maybe you will like this? I'm planning to do a casual series of one shots fresh pickled toad style except AU! Hinny isn't together here yet but it'll get there yes?

My favorite line in this fic is a direct quote of @inakindofdaydream

FF and Ao3

---

“So what do you and Ginny talk about?”

James shoots Harry a sidelong glance that goes unnoticed and smiles. Apparently Aurors aren’t necessarily perceptive in all areas of life. Or gifted in translating investigative techniques to familial scenarios.

“Not much,” James finally answers, light and breezy. “Quidditch, family, how you fancy her to the moon and back.”

“Shit!” Harry’s rhythmic chops end with a fumbled thunk against the cutting-board.

Perhaps teasing should be saved for times when his son isn’t wielding a 7-inch blade.

Harry’s already grabbed a nearby tea towel and wrapped it around his finger. “The hell Dad?”

“Give me your hand.”

“I think part of it is on the counter can you grab it?” Harry deadpans while James pulls at his wrist.

“Aurors used to be tougher in my day,” James teases with a grin. Though his eyes immediately focus in on Harry’s hand once it’s revealed, healing spells on his lips to cleanse and knit the skin back together.

“You mean Mum’s day?” Harry shoots back. “Mr May.”

“I played quidditch,” James corrects with a sigh.

“Played quidditch and did topless calendar photoshoots,” Harry says, wriggling his newly healed fingers.

“One calendar - and I was in uniform,” James adds, “Mostly.”

“I’ve seen the photo. Half in uniform at best.”

“Well I had to get your Mum’s attention somehow,” James says as he begins heating the wok.

Harry lets out a long sigh as he pushes up onto the countertop, heels thudding against the cabinet doors. “I’m not much for photoshoots.”

“But you do have the Potter physique that has been known to drive women to matrimony.”

“That is a lie,” Lily says, lingering in the doorway. “The bit about what it’s known to do anyway. You do look like quite your Dad.”

She steps into the kitchen and toward Harry, running her hand down his shoulder before grasping his hand. “Dad learned that little spell from me.”

“I do it better - the principles that make it work are more like transfiguration than charms. It’s really misclassed.”

Lily shares a glance with Harry and rolls her eyes. “Nerd.”

“Jealous,” James shoots back.

“Of what exactly?”

“Dunno,” James answers, tone light with faux thoughtfulness. “Maybe my O in Transfiguration 7th year?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Lily mutters, snatching a few sliced carrots from the towering veggie pile.

She crunches down on a few and gives Harry a lingering look. “So what’s up?”

Harry and James’s responses are a conflicting cacophony, with the latter firmly in the ‘nothing’ camp.

James sets the veggies sizzling and gives them a preliminary toss. “We were talking about Ginny Weasley, contrary to what my son the liar says.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, is what I mean.”

“Lies.”

“I heard you held hands.”

Harry jolts. “From whom? I think I would remember that.”

“Fleur,” Lily answers easily, watching Harry. “At Dominique’s christening.”

“Wow,” Harry grumbles. “You all need a life.”

James scoffs. “More like you need some game.”

Lily stifles a laugh and shoves James’s shoulder. “Leave him be.”

“Besides,” Harry says, focusing intently on the hole wearing through the knee of his jeans, “We held hands for the prayer. That’s like - “

“Congrats,” James says with a grin, “You’ve made it to Shakespearean first base.”

“I - what?”

“Palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss,” James quotes as he gives the veggies another toss.

Whatever follow up Harry might have formed dies when he spots the utterly nauseating look his mother is currently giving his father. “Really?”

She startles but doesn’t look the least bit guilty. “Yes?”

“That - gross.”

“Don’t be jealous your Dad wooed,” Lily says finally, patting Harry’s shoulder. “You may be older but he was a bloody mess. It took quite a bit of meddling.”

“Please don’t.”

James frowns. “I want grandbabies.”

[gryffindormischief]

apogee

A/N: as promised, some more in the Shakespearean Second Base Universe. Jily + Marauders pre marriage/harry/hinny

This is sorta shirtless jp may?

FF and Ao3

---

“Is this a thinly veiled attempt to entice Lily with your pecs?” Sirius asks, twisted almost completely upside down in his chair, feet cushioned on the back rest. “Not that I have a problem with that.”

Remus laughs and grabs another handful of crisps. “In fact we support anything and everything that will move this along.”

“Admire your pluck,” Peter pipes in.

“Toast your ingenuity,” Sirius adds.

“Applaud your - ”

“Not that I dislike being shamelessly puffed up,” James drawls, “But no. This actually has nothing to do with Evans or her casual disinterest in me...romantically speaking.”

“We’re just teasing,” Remus says while Sirius scoffs.

“What, Padfoot?” James grumbles. “It’s true. You know I care.”

“I mean the disinterest bit,” Sirius sighs. “She’s a terrible actress but lucky for her you’re an easy mark.”

“Or unlucky for both of them,” Peter mutters only loud enough for Remus to hear. Their quiet chuckle doesn’t garner attention from Sirius or James. Which is probably for the best if one assumes Sirius’ needling will force any progress.

“You two can’t procreate - ”

“Obviously, one usually has to get within a meter of the person to do so.”

Remus raises one finger. “Not necessarily…”

“You know what I mean, Moony,” James grunts, kicking at Remus’ knee, “Nobody asked for your sass.”

“What I mean, Wormtail, since you’re the only one who listens to me,” Sirius half shouts, “Is that their progeny will be completely hopeless romance-wise and may just be the end of the Potter line.”

James levels a long, steady look at Sirius before turning to Peter. “Since you’re the only one who’s taking me seriously.”

Peter’s salute earns him a scoff from Sirius. “Don’t be a kiss up.”

“I love how neither of you notice Peter’s volleying loyalty,” Remus murmurs.

“Anyway,” James continues, “Promising Start has always been about helping muggleborns acclimate before First Year - ”

“Which is good!” Sirius puts in, patting James’ knee.

For a brief moment, the boys share confused glances at Sirius’ unexpected foray into the unironically supportive arts. Generally it makes an appearance like Halley’s Comet and generally with much avoided eye-contact and slight flailing of hands.

Instead his gaze is even and mouth twisted in a slight smile. Before long the usual mischief returns to his expression. “Alright enough with the fluff and stuff. What’s your big plan, Romeo?”

James’ mouth opens with a correction but Sirius immediately mimics, chorused by Remus and Peter’s voices, “It’s got nothing to do with Evans.”

“Anyhow,” James says, “I think it’s about time those of us raised in the wizarding world put in some effort.”

Remus returns from the kitchen with a tin of James’ freshly baked biscuits. “Good on you James.”

One of the biscuits ends up in James’ hand, though it works more as a baton than a snack, James’ wild gestures continuing as usual. “The muggleborns want to learn and we give them a good beginning. But all the witches and wizards raised with magic are about to be tossed in with muggleborns. They might have never heard of a telly let alone met someone raised with one.”

“See this is no fair James,” Remus sighs, “Now we can’t make fun of you for First Year anymore.”

James flicks Remus off while Peter pulls one leg up underneath him and frowns. “But where do the calendars come in?”

“Funds, awareness,” James says, “I’ve gotten the Puddlemere, Chudley, and Harpy owners to agree so far. Purely voluntary for the players of course.”

“So they’re all on board with saucy calendars?” Sirius chuckles.

“Classy calendars that promote sportsmanship.”

“We’ll see if you can resist flexing,” Remus says with a laugh of his own.

“I never said I wouldn’t look fit.”

Which - he does. They all do, they’re professional athletes. It takes months - too many - to pull the whole thing together. But it looks great in the end, if he does say so himself. And it’s educational too, with little facts sprinkled throughout. Just in case some people never get further than the calendar in their involvement. Maybe a few muggle facts will leak in by accident. At least for twelve months, anyone who buys one will be staring at witches and wizards doing classically muggle things for twelve months. A few of the muggleborn players even did less sporting themed shots in muggle London that turned out objectively artistic.

So all in all, James is quite proud of the whole idea and resulting project. Meaning his current position is a bit unexpected.

James has been hiding since the cake cutting gave him enough cover. Really there’s a large part of him that would like to leave before things get worse, but it’s her birthday and he fancies Lily Evans to an almost unhealthy degree so he stays.

But he feels like he might spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment, so he hides.

Some James who existed on a higher plane of existence, or maybe James in six months when the pang of distress is lessened, might recognize that this is really his fault for not thinking consequentially. Or maybe not realizing the inevitability of some things, one way or another. But right now, he really wants to fight Sirius in the street.

“Bloody buggering traitor.”

Smooth glass brushes his knuckles and he accepts the offered libation without pause. The spicy scent of firewhisky tickles his nostrils before he lets the sharp taste roll over his tongue. He sort of hopes the peace offering’s resulting smoke makes Sirius’ eyes tear up.

“You can’t be mad at me.”

“I can, and I am.”

“James, I know all your altruistic motives,” Sirius begins.

“But…”

“But you had to know she’d see it.”

“I personally did not want to be there for it - particularly with an audience,” James mutters around another sip.

“Fifth Year James would be so ashamed to hear you,” Sirius sighs as James sinks further into his potted plant-enabled sanctuary, nearly losing his footing when the wall ends.

“Fifth Year James was a berk.”

“Sixth Year James got it together though,” a third voice adds with what James swears is an audible smile.

Bloody Sirius distracts him on top of it all and he loses Lily in the crowd. James has got half a mind to tear Sirius a new one, but when he turns to make good on his plans, he finds SIrius long gone and Lily looking up at him with an unreadable expression.

“I thought you’d left.”

“Nah,” James says, ruffling his hair, “Couldn’t leave without giving the birthday girl best wishes and such.”

Lily steps closer and he almost thinks her eyes dart to his lips. But he can’t linger on the idea long because she’s answering, “What’s the mysterious ‘and such’?”

“Can’t ruin the surprise, eh?” James murmurs, leaning his shoulder against the wall and enjoying the camouflage of his hiding spot for an entirely new reason - namely getting to enjoy the slight flush the copious birthday toasts have brought to Lily’s cheeks.

“I thought it might have something to do with Promising Start,” Lily posits, expression all innocence.

“Don’t give me that look, Lily.”

“I’ll give you whatever look I like when I find you’ve been keeping secrets involving muggles and posing half naked,” Lily shoots back and flicking his shoulder for good measure.

“See that sounds not good, Lily,” James says with a laugh, “And I was not half naked.”

Lily taps her chin and hums. “Okay, so let me see. You, trousers, no shirt, and a football. Sounds half naked to me.”

“It was hot - and the photographer said…”

“I’ll bet they said a lot of things, thought even more,” Lily answers with a smirk, “I believe they’ll be getting lots of ‘thank you’ notes.”

When James locks eyes with Remus over Lily’s shoulder, Remus lifts his glass and raises his brows, as if silently challenging him. Wanker .

“Liked my photo?”

“I liked the notes better,” Lily says, her expression turning serious.

“Oh,” James ruffles his hair again. “You er- opened it already?”

“Yes.” Lily steps closer.

“Not waiting to savor it?”

“Sirius had a little note giving me explicit instructions for my ‘full enjoyment’ of the gift.”

“He’s a damn menace.”

Lily bites her lip. “It was pretty helpful.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She hums and James fights the urge to brush stray hairs back from her face. “I got the idea a while back. Just took a bit to get it all set up. Plus with the season going - we were in a rush to get it out in time for the new year. Which we did. And now the hope is to raise funds.”

“I gathered.”

“- and awareness because both are good. It would’ve been easier to just cover the costs for the program myself at least in the beginning - ”

“Nice brag.” LIly smirks and places a hand on his shoulder. “James.”

His heart stutters in his chest. “I just uh- community involvement.”

Lily’s hand slips up to toy with his hair. “Right. Can’t hog all the good deeds for yourself, eh?”

James swallows, hand gripping his empty glass desperately. “Yes.”

“And the football.”

“Oh - you taught me football and that kind of helped me get - like.” James huffs, frustration rising at his increasing inability to speak with LIly’s proximity. He swipes at his forehead. “We’re so different, but sports? That’s something that’s the same. Sort of. I thought we’d show the commonalities a bit - ”

His sentence dies with the press of Lily’s mouth to his, the glass falling from his fingers and landing with a dull thud. In another circumstance, he’d be impressed with the sturdiness of the drinkware, but now, with Lily’s fingernails scratching at his scalp and her teeth nipping his lip - he can barely think enough to respond. And that is most definitely his supreme priority.

James’ hands grasp her waist as Lily sighs and rises on tiptoe, bringing them infinitesimally closer. “Lily.”

She hums, tongue darting out to tease him.

“Perhaps we should - ah,” she arches closer and his hands fall to her bum. James’ mind goes blank.

Until a shrill whistle sounds. “Oi! Potter, Evans, get a room?”

Lily pulls away, a blush high on her cheeks, but her gaze stays fixed on his even as she shouts back, “Oi! Black. Get out!”