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k1ttycrush · 5 days ago

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Happy Lily Evans Day

A little fic in honor of lily’s birthday <3

Platonic moonflower, and also a tad bit of wolfstar. On the side, as a treat. Cuz I’m greedy LOL

Not beta read, we die like literally everybody in this fucking fandom

word count: 2,449

“It’s almost Lily Evans day men..” James said sternly to his friends.

Peter looked up from the muggle magazine he had borrowed from Sirius. “Lily Evans day?”

“He’s obviously talking about Lily’s birthday, Wormy.” Sirius rolled his eyes. he looked to James again from his spot on their shared floor, cocking his eyebrow suspiciously. “Prongs, what could you possibly be plotting now?”

“Ah yes, my dear Pads… we must come up with something amazing.” James said as he paced back in forth in their little dorm room. “Something…spectacular. Something that would truly blow her socks off.”

“Um…why?”

“Why!” James suddenly exclaimed at Sirius. “Well it’s Lily Evans day, Padfoot! This day only comes once a year!”

“Have you gone mad James?! Do you not remember the last times we tried to give her something?!?”

James snorted. “I’m only mad for Lily Evans. Padfoot you have to understand… I have a feeling, a hunch you might call it, that this is the year. this is the year she will finally come around, I know it!”

Sirius spared a suffering look at Remus, giving the boy a little shrug. Remus only smiled an easy smile back.

“Oh! We could give her some flowers!” Peter chimed in.

“We tried that in 4th year, remember Wormy? James replied solemnly, before throwing himself down on Sirius’ bed. “She burned them and then threw them at my feet!”

Peter suddenly had a little pink tint of embarrassment to his cheeks.

“Oh, I know!” Sirius said. “How about we enchant all the portraits to sing ‘Happy Birthday’! Like we did at Christmas!”

Remus snorted, not looking away from his book “That would never work.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

Sirius scoffed. “Well then, Moony. What do you think we should do?”

Remus rose to the challenge, though unexpected. “Well, someone like her wouldn’t approve of something as outlandish and obnoxious as portraits constantly singing. She likes things that are more thoughtful, and contrary to popular belief, gifting her lillies because her name is Lily is not very thoughtful.” He said casually, nose stuck in his book. “Her favorite color is red, she loves to bake. And also her favorite band is Fleetwood Mac.”

The room was suddenly very silent. Remus quickly looked up from his book in confusion, just to be met by the gaping faces of his three friends.

A small, embarrassed, blush began to creep up his neck. “What?” He asked. “Did I say something?”

“…how do you know that?” James replied in disbelief as he sat up from his place in Sirius’ bed.

“Oh, we study sometimes. For…transfiguration.” He looked around. “Oh will you stop the staring! It’s creeping me out!”

That seemed to snap his friends out of it.

“Well, would you look at that. Watch out, Prongs. Moony here is coming for your girl.” Sirius laughed.

James only moaned as he buried his face into a pillow. “Pads! Don’t joke about something like that. I’d be torn if one of my best mates got with the actual love of my life.”

But Sirius only laughed harder.

“Wait…guys.” Peter suddenly said. “I have an idea!”

The room quieted again.

“Well, Wormy, let’s hear it.”

The nearly grown boys struggled to fit under the invisibility cloak as they awkwardly shuffled down the empty hallway to the painting with the pear that led to the kitchens.

“Hey, watch my foot Padfoot!”

“Me?! That was Wormtail.”

“I could’ve sworn that was you though!”

“Well it wasn’t Prongs!”

“Guys!” Remus whispered irritably. “Shut. Up. A prefects coming.”

The boys quieted immediately, letting the prefect pass by. His badge twinkled under the shine of the light from his wand.

It was the two nights before January 30th—Lily’s birthday. The Marauders were on edge, eager to put their plan into action. And today, they were enacting the first step.

A couple more steps landing them infront of the painting. Remus stuck his hand out to tickle the right pear, and the painting swung open as the pear blushed and giggled with delight.

“Ah, it always smells amazing in here. Isn’t that right lads.” Sirius exclaimed as the boys walked out from under the protection of the invisibility cloak. The kitchen did indeed smell amazing, all sorts of spices and foods and odors wafted through the air.

They were soon met by what felt like a little army of house elves flocking to them.

“Visitors!”

“Students!”

“Hello there!”

“Hullo!”

“Would you like something to eat? Like some fruit?”

“Hello students!”

“Some sandwiches, perhaps?”

James let out a little laugh of shock. He sheepishly held out his hands as the crowd gathered at his waist. “Uh, hello everyone. I was wondering if you could bake a cake. See, it’s for a very special girl, so we need to cake to be very special.” He stuck out a little note with the flavors, icing, and any other details they wrote down.

The house elves seemed to immediately light up with delight, happy to be of service.

“Oh most certainly!”

“Right away!”

“Yes, we shall make an amazing cake!”

“Yes, yes!”

“Here, have some cheese and crackers while you wait!” One said, quickly shoving a platter full of various types of crackers, meats, and cheese into Remus’ hands. Remus let out a shocked laugh.

The crowd of chattering house elves quickly dissolved. James couldn’t even get a “thank you” out before they were already busily measuring flour and eggs and sugar into bowls.

Sirius let out a little laugh as he plucked a piece of cheese and a cracker from the tray. “They sure do like us, eh Prongs?” He popped them into his mouth.

“I’m sure it’s because we drop by so often,” Peter said. “Gives em’ something to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure house elves have hobbies other than cooking or cleaning.” James said thoughtfully as the group crossed to a little set of chairs surrounding a table by the wall.

“Maybe running errands.” Sirius replied with a snort as he nibbled on another cracker. “What say you, Moony?”

Remus set down the platter onto the table, throwing a piece of cheese into his mouth casually. “Oh, what would I know about the comings and goings of house elves?”

“I mean, you always have your nose in a book, you ought to know something.”

Remus just shrugged as Sirius smiled that easy-going smile. All pearly teeth and delicate lips and daring edges. Very pretty.

Remus quickly looked away.

Just then, a ding! sounded, and a beautifully decorated cake plopped itself onto the table they waited at. Remus positively salivated at the delicate swirls and patterns in the one-layered cake.

Oh yeah, this plan would definitely work.

The night before the big day, as Remus laid curled up in his soft bed, he thought of tommorow.

He’d never thought to do something for Lily’s birthday until James had brought it up, what would that say about him? Maybe he needed to be a better friend, he’d say. He supposed he doesn’t think of Lily much as just a study partner, but as a friend. A valued one, at that.

Remus began to drift off to sleep when suddenly he heard a pale hand softly tap twice on the board of the bed. Remus jumped in surprise.

He instantly grabbed for his wand under his pillow, flinging the curtains that surrounded his bed. He instinctively stuck the wand under the chin of whoever stood outside.

“Merlin’s sagging fucking nuts Moony!”

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, he was met with Sirius holding his hands up in surrender. His hair and clothes were slightly tousled, as if he spent all night rolling in his bed. His head was backed as far from Remus’ wand could get it.

Remus let out a sigh of relief and annoyance. Of course it was just Sirius. “Get your arse in here, Black.” He mumbled drowsily. Sirius just grinned and climbed into his bed, muttering a silencing charm under his breath.

Remus rubbed at his eyes as Sirius got comfortable.

“So…” Sirius began.

“So.” Remus replied, his voice husky from sleep. Sirius subtly straightened up a bit. He let out a quick breath.

“Uh- um-“ Sirius spluttered. “Uh. I just wanted to say… ahem… thank you. For helping us a lot.” He said as he fiddled awkwardly with his hands.

Remus suddenly felt like he was talking to someone different entirely. Sirius wasn’t awkward. He wasn’t nervous, he was Sirius. Beautiful and dazzling. Always radiating that unimpeachable air of confidence.

A bloody star that attracted anything close enough with its undeniable gravity.

“Why are you nervous?” Remus asked. His voice was still husky. Sirius quickly looked down at his hands in his lap.

“I…I dunno. Just couldn’t sleep, wanted to, uh, see you.”

Remus’ mouth formed a little ‘oh.’ There was a little fluttering in his chest. He awkwardly scooted over a little bit, patting at his side. He looked away.

Sirius looked up, his eyebrows shooting up ever so slightly. Before crawling over and settling next to him.

The two sat in silence for a little while, looking up into the ceiling. It was when Remus’ eyes began to feel heavy when Sirius broke the silence.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked softly, sleepily. Remus’ ears tingled delightfully.

Remus swallowed nervously. “Nothing much. You?”

“Just tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Just…thank you, Remus. For your help.” He whispered. “This means so much to James, he really does love her. And I care for the idiot. If she’s what’s going to make him happy, then so be it. We really couldn’t have done it without..y’know. You.”

Remus turned his head to face Sirius. His eyes strained to see him in the darkness, but he could make out his silhouette. He felt his breath hitch, ever so slightly. Sirius turned his head to look at him.

“I’m- I-“ Remus whispered. “I care for him too. You’re welcome.”

Sirius nodded at him slightly, before sitting up and taking his wand in his hand. Remus watched him crawl over his bed and through the curtains, whispering an incantation.

When Remus thought Sirius was gone, the curtains cracked open again.

“Goodnight Moony.”

Remus couldn’t help a little smile as he got comfortable in his bed.

“Goodnight Pads.”

Lily was on high alert.

Today, she was on her guard. It was her birthday, and she knew the those damn Marauders were up to something. Between James’ unrelenting affection for her, and his friends’ willingness to go with everything he says, it is safe to say that she has been on the lookout for any signs of tomfoolery or strangeness.

Mary approached her as she walked to her next class. Lily cracked a small smile at her friend, whose face was split in a wide, happy grin.

“Hi Mary!” She greeted.

Mary let out a little giggle. “Hi Lils. Happy Lily Evans day to you, birthday girl.” She said, nudging her playfully.

“Hey! Stop that!” Lily laughed. Mary continued nudging her, until suddenly, they were approached by someone.

Lily recognized her to be Violet from Potions, her black hair hung over her shoulder in a plait.

“Happy Lily Evans day!”

Mary smiled at her. “Happy Lily Evans day!”

Meanwhile, Lily, was confused. Utterly stumped.

“Uh, thanks?” She said, unsure. As Violet rushed past her to get to her class, Lilly turned to Mary.

“Uh hey Mary?”

“What’s up?”

“Um…what is with this Lily Evans Day thing?”

Mary just smirked knowingly. “Oh, you mean you haven’t heard?”

Lily cluelessly looked around the hallway of students, and that’s when she finally caught on.

Students of all ages were wishing each other a Happy Lilly Evans Day. She whipped her head around in disbelief. She took everything in, realization settling in.

For the rest of her walk to DADA, she had only one thought in her mind.

Those damn marauders!

Lily dreaded dinner. So much so that she was genuinely considering eating in her dorm. She was undoubtedly sure that those Marauders would be up to something more embarrassing and annoying than the last. After what feels like twenty wishes for her to have a “Happy Lily Evans day!” she was at her limit. They even charmed. the calendars they had written on to play a Fleetwood Mac song whenever she tried to erase it!

How was that even possible?!

As she entered the Great Hall through the giant doors, she was displeased to see that the entire room immediately erupted into applause. Whistles and yelps of “Happy Birthday Lily!” stuck out from the crowd.

She waved shyly at them all, and they cheered louder. She couldn’t help a shocked little giggle of surprise as she rushed to her seat next to her group and all the students resumed to their conversations and eating.

On the table in front of her seat, however, was a cake.

It was breathtaking. A red single layered cake with elegant swirls along the sides sat before her. A large fake Lily flower laid across the top, under it was a message written in a delicate, spirally, cursive, with white icing.

Happy Birthday Lily! It said.

And in the center was a little, pink candle. Flickering with a light on the tip.

She looked around her at Mary and Marlene sat on each of her side.

“Did…did you guys do this? For me?!” She gasped.

“Hmm…I dunno. Did we?” Mary said, looking to the table where those damn Marauders sat.

There he sat, James Potter and his friends with Lillies scattered in their hair. James grinned at her giddily, and she blew him a kiss. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her when the smile left his face, replaced by a look of shock as he turned to Sirius, shaking him and pointing at her. Sirius just cackled.

Her eyes caught onto Remus, though. And everything clicked.

Little sneak. She thought.

Lily quirked her eyebrow at him, asking him a silent question. But he just smiled smugly and looked away, bringing his glass of pumpkin juice to his lips.

“Well?” Marlene said giddily. “Make a wish!”

Lily pulled her eyes back to her beautiful cake with icing of her favorite color. And she thought of what to ask for.

When she made up her mind, she screwed her eyes shut and wished with all her might as she blew out the pink candle on her cake.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad, she admitted reluctantly to herself. Of course she would never say this out, but she supposed she couldn’t hate James Potter forever.

#hiko writes #marauders #the marauders #happy birthday lily evans #lily evans #jily #james x lily #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius orion black #remus loves sirius #peter pettigrew #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #harry potter

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yallthemwitches · 6 days ago

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Chapter 6: Sixth Year

“Do you trust me?” It has to be the weed, there is no other possible explanation for it. Some flirty, suggestive version of her takes over and suddenly she is crawling towards him, the joint wedged between her lips. Again, there’s that look on his face, but this time it stays.

Read on AO3 Or under the Cut!

That summer, the letters start—though calling them letters would be a bit hyperbolic.

The first arrives on her sill a week after holiday begins: a surprisingly accurate drawing of an airplane with a red haired girl looking out the window. Flying beside her is what she can only assume is supposed to be him—a bespectacled boy on a broom with scribble for hair and a smile that touches either side of his face. There is no note, but there is a caption: ' Hoping these holidays ‘soar’ by.'

It takes her an entire day to decide to write back, then another to think of a response: a very crude interpretation of a beater’s bat smashing into the top of her head. The caption reads: Beating myself with boredom.

It opens the floodgates so to speak and the letters begin to come almost daily.

“What are you doing?” Petunia spits, leering up behind the newspaper.

Lily looks up. In her lap, a parchment lays open with a drawing of a bucket with words leaking onto a paper. In the corner, a doodle James cries: ‘Pouring over this bloody homework (take me out of my misery).’

“What d’you mean?”

“You’ve been reading those stupid freak scrolls and smiling to yourself like a complete nut. It’s exhausting to watch.”

Lily takes a gulp of tea to hide her blush. Cartoon James stares up at her.

“If it exhausts you, go back to bed.”

They all follow the same formula: a drawing, a caption; no pressure. Sending silly doodles was easy because it didn’t involve being around each other— didn’t involve feelings, but as September loomed closer, she wished he would offer her at least something to know where they stood.

A sort of answer arrives late August: a drawing of a bucket full of flobberworms that writhe like a single mass. A human hand holds two in the foreground, one with square lenses and signature scribbled hair and another sporting red fridge. In his unmistakable scrawl the caption reads: I’ll always pick you!

She doesn’t know what to make of it, but she catches herself keeping it in her pocket for the rest of the summer.

It’s then she realizes she has a problem—A big one. And it makes finding him in her usual spot at the welcome feast that much more difficult.

“Er, what are you doing?”

He’d gotten tanner over the summer, more lean. It definitely doesn’t make it hard to focus.

“Uh, sitting?” James cocks his head to the side. Meanwhile, the flobberworm note burns a hole in her pocket.

Don’t expect anything. Be cool.

“You usually sit over there.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were keeping track..”

She sighs. “Of course I’m not but—-”

“Godric Evans,” Sirius exclaims, pointing his fork in her direction,“Friends sit with friends. Do we need to spell it out for you?”

Friends.

She looks back at James and his eyes twinkle, an arched eyebrow speaking for him: So, are we doing this, Evans?

She takes a seat. “No, Black—I got it.”

Yes, I guess we are.

Turns out, it is infuriatingly easy to fall into their vortex. At first they make even less sense up close: Peter is too meek, Remus too self-deprecating, Sirius too haughty, and James…well, James is a universe of issues, each as frustrating as the next.

But nothing compares to her defining fault in the group, one that she hopes she hides a lot better than the rest of their flaws. She fancies him again—she fancies him bad.

It’s something that haunts her at night: what she actually is to him. ‘Friends’ seemed like the perfect word; he had long given up asking her out for a laugh and everything she did with him she would just as naturally do with any other friend. So why then did her heart stutter the moment he entered the room? And why couldn’t she just bloody forget about it?

“You seem cozy with Potter and gang these days,” Mary croons on the first warm day of the season. Nearby, they watch James and Sirius splash knee deep in the lake, pulling up gillyweed and sticking it to each other’s backs.

“We’re friends—he’s…mellowed out since last year,” Lily retorts. She hopes to sound convincing, but the words falter in her mouth at the sight of James, his white shirt sticky and see-through on his taut build.

“Remus is also your friend and you have never stared at him like that.”

Of course it's true. She hates that it’s true.

“—And to be fair, Remus has also never stared at you like James does.”

Lily whips her head around, ignoring Mary’s snickers. Two wide, golden eyes catch hers and the world falls away, making him a shining beacon in a sea of nothingness.

“Care for a swim Evans?” He waves his arm and his muscles contract under the soaked sleeve. Immediately, the million snitches that have found permanent residence in her stomach explode with activity, her heart swelling to burst…

'I’ll always pick you!’

She knows him well enough to not get her hopes up—but it couldn’t hurt to dream.

* * * *

Mary questioning their relationship was to be expected, but the rest of the student body is another story.

“Hey Lily, do you have a second?

It’s a shame she dropped divination early on because before Elodie even says anything, she knows what she is going to ask.

“This is so bloody awkward but—are you and James Potter…like, dating?”

Even correctly predicting it doesn’t lessen the blow, the words making the room grow around her until she feels no bigger than a bug.

“Uhm, no. He’s–”

The happiest bloody thing in my life. Infuriatingly, begrudgingly wonderful. All I think about.

“—just a friend.”

Elodie lets out a sigh of relief and swishes her feathered blonde hair over her shoulder. Lily feels like she’s been hit with a blunt object.

“Oh, whew,” Elodie giggles. “It’s so embarrassing but I’ve nursed a crush on him for ages—I’m like a sad little puppy, you know…”

No, I don’t know. Definitely can’t relate. Not one bit.

“—But it’s my last year and I figured if he was available…now or never I guess!”

Suffocating. She’s suffocating and there is nothing to save her. She doesn’t even have the ability to respond—just wishes someone would be kind and put her out of her misery.

Of course he notices.

“Am I boring you, Evans?” James asks during their study period together. He gives her a playful kick under the table, wiggling his trainer against her foot.

“No, I’m just—feeling off.”

All day, she’s tortured herself about the conversation with Elodie. It wasn’t a lie, James and her were just friends— but even Elodie had noticed they were close now…that they seemed romantic.

She never thought the day would come where she would envy third year Lily. At least then they weren’t friends—weren’t spending all of their free hours interacting within each other’s orbit. Now, not only could she not have him, but she had to smile and continue on like nothing was going on—like every waking moment wasn’t plagued with the desire to recreate what the boggart had shown them in fourth and then some…

“Evans,” James whines, giving a frown. “Let me in—you look like you’re going to combust.”

She doesn’t know how it happens, but it slips out.

“Were you invited to Slughorn’s party?”

Something flashes across his face, something she doesn’t recognize. It leaves a soft blush behind.

“I’ve been invited,” he says, articulating each syllable with care, “but it doesn’t mean I will grace him with my appearance…unless of course I have a reason to.”

So Elodie hasn’t asked.

With a smug grin, he gives her another kick under the desk, his foot hooking around her ankle and giving it a playful tug.

It’s just a friend thing. Nothing to overthink. Definitely not flirty or cute.

“Why do you ask?”

A blush, hot and blotchy crawls up her neck.

“I was just thinking that you should go,” she says, trying her best to keep her voice steady. Inside, a warning bell rings at full volume, red lights flash.

“I mean— it’d mean a lot to him. You haven’t been back since second and obviously you’d be well received which would be great for your ego...”

A smile continues to grow on his lips. The foot that is hooked on her calf slides up and down.

“I think you and I both know my ego needs no extra support.”

She pretends to look at her notes but he continues to stare, waiting for a rebuttal. You rotten coward.Tuney’s right, you’re an absolute nutter.

“Are you asking for you or are you asking for him,” James says finally, breaking the silence.

“I don’t understand—”

“I mean,” he interrupts, “Do you think I should go because Slughorn wants me to or because you want me to.”

It’s a trap. A great big James Potter Rube Goldberg machine of hellish proportions.

“I’m just saying it would be fun.”

He closes his book with a sharp thunk and rises, rounding to her side of the table. Just the proximity alone makes her body go into overdrive—alarms and flashing lights and soaring snitches and zapping electricity all making her wonder if this is it: death by stupid boy.

He leans to grasp the edges of the desk and his chest presses against her back. When his breath tickles her ear she almost goes into cardiac arrest.

“Well, Evans. How about you think about your answer and then I’ll consider my response.”

Before she can even think to rebuttal— to maybe even gain the courage to turn her head a millimeter and slot her lips against his— he is gone.

Her hesitation makes the news that afternoon even harder to swallow.

“Elodie asked James to Sluggy’s party. She’s got some guts asking him hours before, eh?”

Lily doesn’t respond, tears already stinging her eyes.

Yeah, guts you will never have.

* * * * *

It’s childish really, but she asks to take the evening patrol.

“Didn’t you have Slughorn's thing?” asks Remus. He must have been trying to muster the courage to say something—they’d walked the last two floors in complete silence.

“I wasn’t feeling social.”

What she means is she doesn’t feel like being social around them. By the end of dinner she had visualized it all like watching some horrific highlight reel: Elodie curling her fingers through his hair while they talked to Slughorn’s guests…him making a joke and her grabbing his arm, laughing harder than she should…him pulling her close as they twirl on the dancefloor, refined and elegant as two purebloods should be…Unlike her, Elodie will have no hesitation when it’s time to give a kiss goodnight and James will reciprocate happily. Why wouldn’t he? They are the perfect match in every way. A perfect, pureblood, pretty match.

Just thinking about it makes bile sting at the back of her throat.

“Well get ready, Slug Club patrol nights are the worst.” When Remus’ voice pulls her back to reality she doesn’t even remember turning up towards the fourth floor.

“Why would they be any different from any other night?”

He shakes his head.“Think about it: a party, free alcohol, a bunch of ladder climbing pricks—no offense—who are looking for a job or someone with a job to marry…there isn’t a broom closet in any direction from the common rooms that aren't full on Sluggy nights.”

Not just a sting of bile, but real bile threatening to make an appearance. A new, worse image appears—one she’s been staving off since Elodie first approached her: boggart James frantic and loving and hungry but no longer for her.

“Remus—do you have the map?”

He stops in his tracks, pointing his lit wand in her direction. Since she has known about all their little secrets, she has never once asked to use them, but tonight she’s just desperate enough to inquire.

“James has it—why?”

So I can torture myself with their names on top of each other in some broom cupboard. Can watch in real time as my ‘friend’ moves on when I clearly can’t.

“No nevermind, it's dumb,” she says, waving a hand. “Just thought it would make it easier to bust students out of bed…that’s all.”

* * * * *

They don’t see James and Elodie but, as Remus’ predicted, they do find a good bit of couples out before their shift is up.

After, she waits in the common room, watching as the fire dies in the grate. Looking down in her lap the crumpled and torn parchment is smoothed open.

‘I’ll always pick you!’

She has half the mind to watch it burn.

When she eventually slogs herself up to the dorm, she has even less luck forgetting things. She falls in and out of sleep and her dreams do her no favors— images contorting like a hellish metamorphosis: her mum’s medications on the table, flobberworms in a bucket, one of the many faceless boys from fifth writhing against her, a snake pouring from Severus’ mouth, James with his antlers now full grown, twisting wildly and closing in…

Before she is even fully aware of her choice, she is standing in front of the boys’ dorm, feeling more pathetic than she’s ever felt in her life.

And what do you plan to do if he isn’t there, hm? For all you know he decided to take Elodie to one of his many hiding places—Christ knows he had the map on him. What if she’s in there with him right now…

The thought alone should stop her, but it doesn’t. She silences the creak on the door and peers in, half expecting to be greeted by a knowing, accusatory grin from any or all of the boys. Instead, all the bed curtains are pulled shut and silent.

She dodges the books and candy wrappers that line the floor towards the bed flanked with posters of Quidditch players hovering asleep on their brooms. Reaching the curtains she stalls and realization crawls up her spine. She’s in his room, at his bed, and worst of all, she is uninvited.

“James—” she whispers, her voice cutting through the cold air. She gives a slight rattle to the curtain and waits. Nothing.

I knew it. He’s out starting his perfect life with his perfect pureblood girlfriend.

“Hey, James…”

Finding a break in the drapes she pulls back the fabric. A sigh of relief tumbles out— he’s alone and asleep on his back, one arm angled above his head as though in mid-throw. Light streams in and catches the outline of his chest, making her heart thrum.

She’d spent so long considering the implications of him not being there that it never occurred to her to think about what she would do if he was. Suddenly a whole new barrage of questions start pouring in, muddying her vision.

What if he gets angry? What if he wakes up all the lads and they take the piss? What if he’s bloody fucking naked?

She’s sure the sound of her breathing alone will wake up the entire room.

“James…”

Taking in a gulp of air, she presses a hesitant finger into his side. His eyes flash open, pupils dilating as they focus on her face in the dark.

“Merlin— Lily?”

He shoots up in the bed, running a hand through his ruffled curls while the duvet slips down, flashing her a peek at the top of his pants.

Oh thank Christ.

“What’s wrong—did something happen? Why are you—”

She shushes him, not wanting to disturb the rest of the boys. She can feel her knuckles going white as she grips the bed curtain for support.

“Lily, are you ok? When Remus was here I just assumed—-”

“ Shhhh–” she hisses, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He leans up and shoves the curtains closed, an act that should be harmless but she’s only ever imagined him doing it when something else follows after…

“There’s a silencing charm— they won’t wake up,” he says sharply. All the sleep has left his voice and his jaw clicks in what little light still reaches through the topmost part of the curtains.

“Are you hurt? Merlin Evans, talk to me.”

But what is she supposed to say?

“It's–I’m fine, I promise,” she starts, voice shaky. “It was just…a shit night. I wanted some company, but now I see this is–well–crazy so I’ll just…”

She makes to get up, tears threatening to pour out but a hot hand folds over her forearm and holds her in place. When she meets his gaze, his eyes are soft but drip with concern.

“No, wait Lils. Do you want to talk about it?

Lils. Only her mum has ever called her that and he knows it. She’s told him.

His other hand reaches out of the curtain and comes back with his glasses and wand. Casting a quick lumos the space lights up and she can see his features more clearly: confusion and worry riddle his face but something else too—something she can’t quite place.

“I had a bad dream,” she says, knowing how childish it sounds. “About my mum and…some other stuff. It just became a bit much, you know?”

Again, his eyes roam her face. He has every reason to be unconvinced—normal sane people don’t usually climb into their mate’s beds when they have a bad dream. But a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah, I get it,” he murmurs and the hand on her forearm gives a light, reassuring squeeze.

“What do you need? You want to go get some food? A little distraction? I can get the lads up in seconds and we can–”

“No—thanks,” she stammers, a blush billowing on her cheeks. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want. I just—”

Wanted to see you. Wanted to make sure you weren’t still with Elodie. Wanted to prove to myself how much of a horrid, cowardly person I am.

“Didn’t want to be alone,” he finishes for her, giving a doting smile. It fills her with warmth.

“So, again, how can I help? You say the word and I’ll do it—you know I’m good for it.”

Yes, she does and that’s the problem. That’s why the words come out before she can even have the common sense to stop.

“Can I stay here?”

He blinks, mouth opening and shutting with a quick snap. The feeling she couldn’t place before now spreads like wildfire onto his face, still mysterious but objectively warm. A sprinkle of blush lines his cheeks.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah of course.”

The dorm beds are notoriously small but he makes enough room for her to crawl over and slide under the blankets.Immediately, the weight of his arm drapes loose over her waist and the pressure feels good– like it’s protecting her from whatever might be lurking outside of the curtains. Settling in, she turns to press against his chest but he shuffles back, creating a small space between them.

“This alright?”

She looks up to see him peering back at her, a blush still lingering. She wiggles a bit closer, yearning to tuck herself into him and feel his skin on her back. A sharp intake of breath stops her.

Maybe it is like third year all over again. Rejection slices right to her core.

See? He doesn’t want you here–he’s just being kind. Tuney is right, you are a freak. A delusional, unlovable freak.

Tears sting hot at her eyes and she blinks them away, afraid to let them fall and land on his skin. Minutes pass and she hears his breath slow, his fingers naturally curling up against her stomach in sleep. For a fleeting second she relishes the touch, but the damage is done.

This is it. No more. He doesn’t want you—not the way you want him. If anything this just proves how disgusting you are….

She never gets to sleep, feeling his chest rise and fall and counting the seconds when she can peel his arm away to creep back out the way she came—hopefully like she was never there at all.

* * * * *

They don’t talk about it and to be honest, she isn’t quite sure he even remembers it.

“You excited for the party tonight?” Marlene leans against Lily’s bed post, sporting a smug grin she knows doesn’t mean anything good.

“You’re mistaken. The Quidditch Cup was last week—perhaps you don’t remember on account of being pissed all night.”

Marlene just gives a sharp laugh, flopping herself on the bed beside her.

“Not pissed enough to shag Black.”

Lily gives her the side-eye. “Marls, that’s the definition of pissed behav—”

“ What I was saying–” Marlene interrupts with a cough, “ –is that the aforementioned Black and company are planning a little soirée for the end of the year tonight. I’m honestly shocked you don’t know seeing as you have buddied up to that lot.”

Maybe she would have known if she hadn’t been avoiding every one of them since the night of Slughorn’s party.

“Ok—well, good for them I guess.”

Marlene, huffs like something is obvious which clearly isn’t.

“I am telling you this, because it might be a good time to try your luck with Aubrey—you know, the fit seventh year who gives you bedroom eyes all day.”

The image of James laying next to her flashes through her mind, shirtless and still. It sears like a hot knife into her chest. She already knows that if she had climbed into Bertram Aubrey’s bed, he would have probably done something about it.

But James didn’t.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll see what his plans are,” Lily hears herself saying.

Marlene just snorts.“ Honey—for you, his plans are wide open.”

*******

All night long, Sirius’ doles out shots, hovering them into the air so thirsty guests can reach up and pluck them like apples. Lily dodges them as they go past; Bertram’s on his third.

“To happy endings,” he says, holding up his glass with a wink. Like James, he is also all smiles but his feel predatory, like if she turns her back even for a second he will pounce.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. This is FINE.

“You know, I’ve always been curious about what it’s like being with a muggleborn. I hear you lot get filthy.”

It snaps her back real quick.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just fucking say that,” she hisses, reeling backwards. Either he is drunk or dumb or both because he doesn’t take the hint.

“Oh c’mon Lily, I was just—”

But she doesn’t wait for him to finish, storming off into a random direction.

“I’m going to the loo. Do not follow me.”

She fights through throngs of party goers until a voice rises out from the fray.

“Trouble in the Aubrey hellscape?”

Sirius gives her a knowing grin, cocking his head towards where she left Bertram to bother some other unsuspecting girl. Lily just lets out a grunt, grabbing at a shot from midair.

“Apparently, he expects me to pop his muggleborn cherry.”

“Yikes,” Sirius whistles, wrinkling his nose.

“Well—if you want a life raft, our ickle Prongsy ducked out to have some of his ‘big feelings’ somewhere else. You could be a doll and give him a shot for me?”

He holds out two shots that are deftly juggled between his fingers and she eyes them warily.

“What d’you mean ‘big feelings?’”

Sirius eyebrow arches, smile turning lethal.

“I think you know the answer to that, Evans. Even if you are incredibly thick sometimes.”

She knows it’s a trap–him and James have that particular talent in common–but she takes the shots anyways. She didn’t want to, but she had noticed that James was at the party alone, hardly talking to anyone other than his usual pack of mates. Every so often she would turn around and catch him staring back at her—harboring a soft, sad sort of smile that she knows all too well…

It’s that same smile that convinces her to become face to face with his dorm room door for the second time that week.

This is a friend thing. Sirius sent you here—nothing weird.

He lays stretched out in the middle of the room, hands crossed behind his head. In a sad attempt to make the stone floor more comfortable, his pillow and blanket lay next to him, clearly abandoned as soon as they touched the ground. Remus’ charmed record player turns out a melodic, heady tune that wafts faintly through the air, skipping every so often with a static jolt.

“Anyone alive in here?”

She approaches slowly, holding up the shots with her most convincing smile. He continues to stare at the ceiling, eyes unblinking.

Look–even now he doesn’t want you here.

But she forces herself to try anyway.

“Is this a flobberworm impression? Because if so you should be doing a bit more wiggling.”

She knows it will get him and it does—a small smile curves on his lips.

“You don’t want to see my flobberworm impression,” he murmurs. “The mucus alone takes ages to clean.”

Ah, there he is.

She snorts and mutters disgusting under her breath and it rewards her with a bit more smile. Setting his shot next to his forehead, she takes a seat on the other side of the space and waits. It’s still new to her to see him like this—pensive and calm. It had jarred her last year when they were in the forest and even after a whole school years’ worth of getting to know him, it still seems odd—like looking at the underbelly of a glittering jewel.

“Sirius told me you were having some big feelings—his words, not mine.”

“Sounds like him.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

It sends cold water down her spine. When did James ever not want to talk about something?

It’s worrisome, but what worries her most is that despite all the signs saying leave him alone, she still wants to be near him.

“Alright Potter, you win. If it gets you out of this state,” she gestures at his full form, “then I’ll do some mischief with you.”

At the very least, it gets his attention.

“I’m listening.”

She fishes into her pockets, pulling out a joint that she had been saving for emergencies. At the sight of it, James’ nose scrunches.

“A fag? No thanks, Evans. I’m watching my girlish figure.”

Lily snorts, giving his leg a soft kick.

“No, you git. A joint—you know, Marijuana? Weed? That muggle stuff that makes you feel good?”

That same look from when she was in his bed skitters across his features, red blooming on his jaw.

“How good are we talking?”

She straightens up, busying herself with pulling her wand out of her hair so as not to linger on the fact that the last time she was in this room with him, he had pushed her away.

“It’s not quite like smoking a fag. You have to hold it in a bit to really feel it.”

She uses her wand to light the end. When it sparks up, James’ face does too.

“Got to admit it, Evans. I’m pretty wary of the whole inhaling smoke bit but I like this side of you.”

It shouldn’t make her heart feel like it’s going to explode out of her chest.

She takes a small hit to show him, holding the smoke in the back of her throat and feeling the cool, calm of the weed start to take hold. James watches intently, eyes sweeping across her face as though reading a particularly interesting novel. She knows she must be blushing, but as the weed sets in, she no longer cares.

“Here, you try,” she says, holding out the joint.

He blinks at it, eyes drifting from the weed to her face, a blush forming under the rims of his glasses. When he finally takes it, he brings it to his lips and takes a big drag, immediately sputtering into coughs.

“Fucking hell, Evans. This is disgusting.”

She falls back from laughing, holding onto her stomach like it will burst. At first he looks bashful, but then a grin begins to grow, her joy infectious.

“Here–,” She says after getting a hold of herself. Like some sort of tiny miracle, every self deprecating thought has quieted. No sirens, no chants of mudblood, no Petunia calling her a freak. Just her and James with no effort whatsoever. Completely limitless.

“Do you trust me?”

It has to be the weed, there is no other possible explanation for it. Some flirty, suggestive version of her takes over and suddenly she is crawling towards him, the joint wedged between her lips. Again, there’s that look on his face, but this time it stays.

“Let me help you. Open your mouth.”

She sits back on her heels, taking a long drag. Grabbing at the side of his cheek, his unruly curls tickle at the ends of her fingers as she pulls him closer to her, their bodies moving in slow motion. Hovering her mouth right above his, she exhales, his face becoming obscured in smoke. When it subsides, he reappears as though becoming boggart James—his eyes glassy and wide and hungry.

He reaches out his hand and she expects him to grasp the joint, but instead his fingers curl around her wrist, thumb pressing against her pulse.

“James, you alright?”

What the boggart showed them can’t even compare to how it actually happens. He tips her backwards, pressing his body against her even before her back meets the floor. It feels as though his hands are everywhere at once: twisting through her hair, cupping her face, caressing down her back. It feels so overwhelming and yet she wants more—more rabid and frantic than she has ever felt in her life. His mouth twists with hers, tongues drifting against lips and open mouth kisses finding sensitive spots all along her neck and collar.

“You are my dream, ” he breathes while his nose traces the side of her cheek.

“You are…so lovely.”

Later, she will realize that she took the lead. Grabbing his chin, she guides his mouth back to hers, nipping at his lower lip. He makes a broken, whimpering gasp and it’s everything she’s ever wanted in a single sound. It feels as though the room could catch on fire and they still wouldn’t let go—years, years! worth of tension building up to this singular moment.

Her legs part and he takes up the space, tugging on her thigh to give him more room to press deeper. The sensation is instant and they both let out a gasp, their hips rolling instinctively in ways that she’s only seen in muggle dance halls.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he says against her neck. “Anything Lils— anything.”

She pulls him back to crash their lips together and it all becomes one big blur, the urgency making every touch not enough, every sweep of his tongue too short, the feel of him against her still so far away.

“Take off my skirt.”

He doesn’t hesitate, hands moving quickly to find the zipper. In return, she finds the front of his belt-–taking the pressure that pushes into her hip as confirmation that he is exactly on the same page— so hungry that it hurts…

“PRONGS! We’re out of drinks—get your arse down here and help me with another run.”

Sirius’ voice breaks the seal and everything rushes back, hitting harder and stronger than ever.

What are you doing? He rejected you! He went on a date with Elodie! All he has ever done is toy with you and leave you to pick up the pieces…

But then why does it feel so good? Why would he keep trying again and again—offering her anything she wanted?

“No, no, no, no,” he hisses against her skin, clutching her to him like Sirius might barge in at any minute and physically rip her from him.

“PRONGS! What are you doing!”

She tries to pull away and he lets her, his fingers sliding against the patch of skin where, if he had gotten any farther, would have grazed the band of her knickers.

“This was a mistake. I should go—” she pants. It feels like she has just come to from an incredible sickness, her inner monologue screaming louder than she’s ever allowed.

You stupid, pathetic idiot. You know what happens when you let him in.

“No.”

He looks absolutely mad, his lips swollen and his hair pushed out from where her fingers had teased it.

“Just— please. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He’s going to use you…trick you like he always does…make you a cog in his little games…

“James–”

“Please, Please.” He isn’t asking, he’s begging. Putting a hand on her cheek, he pulls her back and she lets him, their foreheads pressing together.

“I don’t know what those muggle drugs do but Merlin, if this is just some hallucination I don’t want it to end, so please, Lils. Stay here.”

It feels cruel for him to use her nickname now, of all times.

Still, she can’t help but consider it: waiting for him to come back so they can climb into his bed again and let everything fall away until it is just them. She wants it so bad it hurts—wants to believe that a world like that exists: where they haven’t made these kinds of mistakes with each other over and over and over again…

He presses his lips into her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth, sliding his palms all the way down until they reach for her hands.

“One second— I swear.”

With great effort he picks himself up and bounds out of the room—and moments later she does too. They never found out back in third, but as she descends the stairs she wonders if her and Severus’ boggarts would have been the same: her in love with someone who would never work.

Slipping into her four poster bed, she tries to picture his face when he enters back into the dorm and finds her gone. It’s a small, sad sort of smile that she knows better than she knows herself at this point. A smile she can’t seem to shake.

#Happy Birthday to our amazing flawed completely limitless Lily Evans #jily #jily fanfiction #method acting #sixth year #my writing #james potter #lily evans

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