The wind blew quietly through her hair as she sat back and looked up at the clear starlit sky, the feel of grass between her fingers and the sweet smell of spring awakening her senses. The Quidditch pitch was deserted at this time and she laid down in the middle of it, enjoying the quietness of the night.
"Evans?" She jumped up and looked around at the figure of James Potter standing a couple of meters away from her, his hair damp and his broomstick in his hand.
"What are you doing here?" She asked and he raised his eyebrows at her amusedly.
"Quidditch meeting ran late," He answered. "Don't you have patrols tonight?" He continued and she shrugged.
"I won't be missed. Students are so terrified of you, no one dares to sneak out anymore," She smiled. "Besides, it's the first clear night we've had in months. McGonagall will understand, don't you think?"
He smiled softly at her and nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to your contemplating then," He said, already pacing backwards.
"You're leaving?" She asked sarcastically. "James Potter is passing up an opportunity to spend a night under the stars with me? What have I missed?" She teased and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," She added quickly. "Would you like to join me though? It'd be nice to have some company."
He looked at her curiously, his eyes dark and questioning, before throwing his broomstick on the ground and taking a seat next to her.
"How was Quidditch practice?" She asked and he smiled enquiringly at her.
"It was fine," He shrugged, his eyes fixated on her face.
"You know, you can talk to me, James. Even about Quidditch, really. I'm a good listener. And I do fancy a nice Quidditch match once in a while, even though I have an intense fear of flying."
He chuckled quietly and ran a hand through his hair again. "Well if you must know, I'm rather terrified I'm going to be murdered in my sleep. I'm so fixated on winning the cup that I'm making the team practice five times a week, sometimes until midnight," He said, a trite smile on his face and she laughed lightly, throwing her head back and his eyes slightly glazed out of focus.
"Why is it so important for you to win, James?" She asks him mischievously, lying down on her back and looking up at him through thick lashes.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's my last year. It'd be nice to win the cup before I leave."
She nodded softly. "And what are you planning to do after you leave?"
A grim look dawned on his face and he looked up at the sky for a minute. "Fight," He replied simply and she couldn't help the feel of awe and admiration that swept over her. She tentatively touched his arm and he looked down at her with a look of surprise, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Are you afraid?" He finally asked, and he almost sounded like a child.
"Yes," She answered and a look passed between them, of understanding and innocence and turmoil.
"You're a muggleborn. You should be." He spoke boldly and harshly, but she only nodded and closed her eyes.
His fingers brushed against her hand and she smiled and laced hers through his. "Your hand is warm," She whispered as he laid down next to her, their hands still entwined. "Will you let me fight with you?" She asked and there was a slight tremor in her voice and her hand shook in his.
He looked sideways at her, calm and sympathetic, his thumb tracing comforting circles against her wrist. "Yes," He muttered.
"You're a man of few words, James. You didn't used to be like this," She teased and he turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, completely facing her.
"I grew up," He replied simply, running his fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes and sighed softly.
"Are you happy?" She asked.
He chuckled lightly, deep and guttural and his eyes were dark and she couldn't look away from his face. "Right now? I am," He replied
She shook her head amusedly and slightly moved closer to him, turning on her side as well. "Why are you happy right now?" She whispered.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "You're such an eloquent person, Lily. You didn't used to be like this," He quipped and she giggled.
"I grew up," She muttered, running her hand along his arm, and softly planting a kiss on his cheek. "Tell me something. Something about yourself," She continued and he hesitated. "It doesn't have to be the 'if I tell you, I have to kill you' type of something. Just something not many people know about you. Something you're not comfortable discussing with anyone."
"Why do you want that?" He asked and she shrugged lightly.
"I want to be the person you can talk to. I want you to feel comfortable with me," She beamed.
He was quiet and observant for a moment before he held her hand again and licked his lips. "I feel sorry for Severus Snape."
There was a moment of awkward silence as she looked at him, her green eyes huge and wondering. "Why? He doesn't deserve it." Her voice was quiet but he could tell he had hit a nerve when she finally looked away from his face.
"I think he loves you," He continued and she shook her head. "A guy can tell."
"It doesn't matter. None of it does. He chose what side he wants to be on. If he really did love me, if he wanted to protect me, he wouldn't have chosen the bad one," Her voice shook and she sat up, turning her back to him. "You would protect me, wouldn't you?" She mumbled and he sat up as well, their shoulders touching as they stared ahead. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
He didn't reply, instead stood up, picked up his broom and walked away.
A/N: This would probably be a multi-chapter fic. Not sure how many chapters or when the next update will be, but I promise to do my best to update as soon as possible. I wanted to try something different for once, a bit more dialogue, to show a deeper side to Lily and James' relationship, with a little less snogging (albeit, there