James is jumpier then usual. Lily notices at breakfast; notices how he almost stabs his toast when he tries to butter it, how he catches his snitch twenty-six times in nine minutes, how he says, "Alright, Evans?" on no less than three separate occasions (not that she minds). He fidgets enough that Sirius threatens to expel him to the first years' seats on the far side of the table, something that causes him to attempt to hold his breath in a bid for stillness until he's turning blue, and Lily has to resuscitate him with her wand (not that she minds). He runs his fingers through his hair so that it looks even more messy than usual. He asks Lily to Hogsmeade, and when she declines, he says, "Just joking", and her heart aches. She wants to accept his offer, but she can't be sure it's a genuine one. And she must be sure.
The fact is that she has fancied James Potter far too long - a year now, starting in year six all the way up to this rainy day in December - for anything to happen. It's a cruel twist of fate, the way that their doomed love story worked out. Lily despises it for a number of reasons, the first and foremost being that perhaps the best comeback of her life, when she'd swore she preferred the giant squid to James Potter, was no longer true - in fact, it was a blatant lie, the most opposite of the truth she could get. She would take James Potter over most things, now, including her sister.
Though perhaps that wasn't saying much, seeing as her sister hadn't invited her to her wedding. Apparently it had been a simple affair, a quiet wedding on the countryside. Lily could imagine it - Vernon's new car parked close enough that the guests could still admire it but far enough away that it could melt into the hills, a cake, short vows, a proper bride. Music, but not too much, and a big, white tent with turrets that would blend in with the overcast clouds above.
Yes, Lily could picture it. But that was all she could do, because she hadn't been invited and, as were the natural progressions of such things, had not attended. What made the situation worse was that, because of Lily's absence, none of Petunia's family had been there on her wedding day. Still, Lily reasoned, it was Petunia's choice.
Petunia blamed Lily for a lot of things, the most important of which being the death of their parents. When the news of their deaths had first broke, Lily had told her sister they'd died in a car accident, and in a way they had, since their car had been blown up by Death Eaters. It had turned into a rather large scandal when Petunia was informed of the truth by way of Snape, who set about destroying Lily's life once he realized she'd never talk to him again. Petunia had been hurt, but instead of channeling the hurt into anger and the anger into action, like Lily would've done, Petunia had spat and stomped and called names that Snape must've also taught her, names like mud-
Well. No use thinking about any of that now. Lily turns her attention back to Marlene's nervous assessment of the weather, the way that her best friend twists with the promise ring she'd received from her Durmstrang boyfriend as she looks up at the enchanted ceiling. "No clouds, just rain, a sunshower…"
Lily wonders why this matters; seeing as they don't have Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures (it's a Saturday), there's no reason for them to go outside. Lily, for one, has been planning on curling up by the fire in the Gryffindor common room and reading The Shining, a muggle book that had been her father's last gift to her. She finds it quite intense, but on a day like today, with the rain pattering against the window, she thinks it'd be nice to escape to another world, a world where the supernatural only existed in the Overlook Hotel… She let her thoughts drift again, back to her father, who would tell her and Tuney stories before bed until she insisted she'd outgrown them. There had been one, she remembered, that involved dragons, and a little boy who was fighting them, cheered on by people in the clouds. What she'd give to hear one of his stories again…
"Lily! Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"
The world comes back into focus again as Dorcas snaps her fingers in front of Lily's face repeatedly.
"Of course," she responds hotly, flinching away from her friend's fingers. It's a lie, of course, but she's been lying a lot lately and now do so without thinking and without giving anything away.
"Then will you please answer my question?"
Across the table, James and Sirius are now debating heatedly. Lupin and Peter are looking on with expressions of mild amusement. Lily wonders what they're talking about.
"Hello?" Dorcas says. "My question: will you bring the sign for the game, or will I?"
"What game?" Lily asks, and she knows she's made a mistake as soon as the words have left her mouth. James and Sirius stop their conversation and stare, open-mouthed, at her, something that she hasn't seen them do in quite a while.
"What game?" James echoes disbelievingly, his snitch buzzing around his head like those birds in the cartoons Lily used to watch when she was younger.
In fact, the snitch is going so fast that watching it is making Lily dizzy, so she closes her eyes for a few seconds and says, "Will you please control your snitch? I'm getting nauseous."
"Give it to me, mate," she hears Sirius say, and the sounds of James's muffled protests bring a smile to her face. They've forgotten her slip-up, or at least she thinks they have. For now she's remembered what she missed, and she can't believe she'd been that stupid. She opens her eyes and turns to Dorcas. "I'll bring the sign."
Her friend nodded, something like relief crossing her face. "Thanks, Lily."
Marlene, however, doesn't look as pleased. All nerves from before - Lily realizes why her friend had been nervous, it was because she was Gryffindor's keeper - have vanished as she questions her friend. "Why were you zoning out?"
Because James is sitting across from her, and sometimes his knee accidentally touches hers. Because Petunia is still not talking to her, and though Lily is strong enough to handle it, her sister had gotten married for Merlin's sake and she hadn't been invited. Because her parents are dead and The Shining is scary and sometimes she just wants to hear her father tell her a story before bed like he used to…
"Just tired," Lily responds, flashing her friend a quick smile before standing up. "I think I forgot something upstairs. I'll be back."
"Quidditch starts in twenty minutes!" Dorcas hollers after her receding form.
"Oh, Merlin, we'd better get going…" James says, and then Lily's out of earshot and alone with her thoughts. She takes her familiar path up to Gryffindor tower, thankful that everyone else is either at breakfast or on the pitch. She needs time to reset, time to stop the ever-growing lump in her throat before her eyes get watery. It's happening more and more lately, that terrible feeling that surfaces when Lily thinks about everything, really thinks about it - Petunia, the wedding, Voldemort, her feelings for James - that terrible feeling that summons tears to her eyes almost immediately. At this point, she's running on fumes, trying to keep up with everything in her personal life, plus schoolwork, plus being Head Girl.
By the time she convinces herself that everything is fine, she's reached the Fat Lady. With the muttered mention of treacle tarts, the portrait swings open to admit her, and Lily climbs into the common room. Like the rest of the castle, it's empty save for a few cats curled up on the comfier armchairs, but Lily pays them no mind as she crosses the space and walks up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. She finds the sign that Dorcas had in mind quickly — it was furled on her friend's bed, its letters flashing red and gold at a speed that was guaranteed to give Lily a migraine — and lets herself stop in front of the mirror on her way out. Her eyes aren't damp, which is good, and her face isn't flushed. She shows no outward sign of distress, which she supposes is a point in her favor. It's taken her a long time to control her feelings (which is a mushy word for those urges she gets to cry all night or yell mindless insults) — fifth year and below were a time when no one was safe from Lily Evans' temper — but the war has hardened her, made her less accessible than she ever was.
She hears the cheer of the Quidditch crowd and knows she's late. Grabbing the sign, she sprints from the dormitories to the common room, from the common room to the portrait hole, from the portrait hole to the entrance hall, and from the entrance hall to the pitch. It's almost impossible to spot her friends in the sea of red-and-gold clad Gryffindors in the stands, so she resigns herself to sitting alone in the first seat she can find. The sign pulses underneath her cold fingers, and as the paper gets populated with tiny raindrops, she remembers that it's raining.
"Lily!" She looks over at the sound of her voice to find Dorcas waving at her three rows up. "Come sit with us!"
Lily obliges, and once she's sat down, she hands the sign to Dorcas, who thrusts it in the air immediately. "You're seriously out of it today — YES, MARLENE! GO LIONS! —, did you know that?"
"Maybe," Lily mumbles, her eyes searching the pitch for a certain Chaser. When she can't find him, she turns back to her friend, conscious of Remus and Peter listening in.
"Can I ask why?" "No."
Dorcas looks like she's about to respond, but before she can, the sky rumbles and truly opens up in a way that suggests that the morning's sunshower was just a prelude to the storm that is about to occur. The Quidditch players seem like nothing more than streaks through the sheets of rain that tumble down, and Lily finds herself soaked to the bone.
"Did you pack an umbrella?" Dorcas asks, looking similarly wet.
Lily shakes her head.
"I did," a new voice says, and Lily's surprised to see that Mary Macdonald has been sitting on the other side of Dorcas the whole time. Though Mary is a Gryffindor in their year, Lily has never had a meaningful conversation with her — in fact, Lily thinks she's talked more with Hufflepuffs — for she's a very quiet girl whose nose can most often be found in a book. Besides, Lily had never felt the need to amass more friends; Dorcas and Marlene had always been more than enough, compensating not only for Lily's lack of friends earlier in life but also for Petunia's absence, once the sisters' relationship had reached that point. Lily sometimes felt a little guilty that she didn't know Mary or Alice Fortescue, the fifth occupant of their dormitory, as well, but comforted herself in the fact that the latter had never been very eager to make friends with her, seeing as her best friend had always been Frank Longbottom.
Now, though, Lily is extremely grateful for Mary Macdonald, especially as she produces a very large umbrella and opens it, shielding the three of them from the rain.
"Thank you," Dorcas says, and Lily echoes her. She can barely hear Amos Diggory's commentary over the sound of rain hitting the ground, and she has no idea what the score is. Still, she tries to focus on the game, but as soon as she does so, the players all drift downward and touch the ground.
"What's going on?"
"Gryffindor's called a time out, I think," Mary says so quietly that the sound of the rain almost carries her voice away.
It's a split-second decision, but one that Lily makes with very little difficulty. She's tired, tired of everything in her life, but one thing she's especially tired of is hiding. Hiding her watery eyes and flushed face; hiding her anger with Snape, left over from when he first called her that word; tired of hiding how she much she hurts and aches; tired of hiding how she feels when James Potter's knee touches hers underneath the crowded breakfast table. She's tired of it all, and she knows how to alleviate some of the exhaustion.
She stands up, and the rain batters her. The time-out has not yet ended, and now that she's higher up, she can see the scoreboard: it's 0-60, Slytherin.
"Where are you going?" Dorcas asks, a look of concern on her face. "You'll freeze."
"Down," Lily replies, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. "I'll be back soon." With that, she races to the pitch, the rain pelting her back as she reaches the muddy field. She can see him now, the way he's talking to his team, the look on his face suggesting the relentless optimism he's trying to instill in his teammates.
When she's ten feet away, he sees her. His mouth stops forming words, and he stares. "Lily?"
"James," she says, and the whole team is watching her now, maybe even the whole pitch, but it doesn't feel that way. She notices his misty glasses (it's a wonder he even saw her coming) and keeps walking towards him. The team breaks their huddle to let her through, their eyes on her wearily, no doubt wondering why she's so, so close to their captain…
James breathes in deeply — she's close enough to hear it — and says, "Lily, what are you —"
She lifts her hand and takes off his glasses, and he blinks.
"Impervius", she whispers (she's always had a knack for wandless magic, something she's very proud of), and his lenses clear up immediately.
"It repels water," she says by way of explanation. She hands the glasses back to him, and he puts them on.
"Right. Thanks."
"No problem."
"Oi! Are we gonna play Quidditch or not?" yells the Seeker for the team (Lily doesn't remember his name, only that he's a fourth year and apparently doesn't care that he's stopped her from saying something impulsive, like I love you or I'm sorry).
"Please win," she says instead, and walks off the pitch, feeling James's eyes on her.
The final score is 200-70, Gryffindor, and Lily finds that she's not quite as annoyed at the Seeker as she was during the time-out. Dorcas peppers her with questions almost as soon as the match is over — "Lily, what did you do to James?" being the most notable one — but Lily ignores her, because that moment felt private, even with countless eyes on them.
Marlene rushes right at them, only pausing at the last second to laugh at how terrified they both look at the sight of her. She's muddy and grinning, and sweeps them into a hug immediately, covering them in mud and letting the heavy rain immediately clear it from their skin. Dorcas starts to complain about the clothing stains she'll get from the mud, but Lily can tell that she doesn't really care.
"Party in the common room!" Marlene almost screams, and Dorcas mutters something about how she'll be deaf by the time she's thirty, but Marlene doesn't care and Lily doesn't either, for she feels happy for the first time in quite awhile. When the hug finally ends, Lily looks at Marlene again, abandoning all subtlety.
"Has James left the changing rooms yet?"
Marlene smirks. "He was packing up his things when I left."
"I'll be back," Lily replies, leaving Dorcas looking positively scandalized.
The walk to the changing rooms takes about a minute and a quarter, but to Lily it feels much longer. She shoulders through the crowd of happy Gryffindors and defeated Slytherins, trying to control her loudly beating heart. She knows that James is still in the changing rooms, knows because she can feel it and also because no overzealous Gryffindors are lifting him triumphantly on their shoulders.
She reaches the door to the structure and knocks twice. It's opened, almost immediately, by James, his bag swung over his shoulder, broomstick in hand.
As soon as he processes who it is, his smile turns into a frown. "Lils? What are you doing here?"
Lily looks around the room, making sure that they're alone. When she sees that they are, she closes the door, takes a shuddering breath, and turns to him. "Good job today."
"Thanks," he says, dropping his bag and broomstick and sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. "Is something wrong?"
She twists her fingers together. "James, I've been wanting to say this for awhile now, and —"
He cuts her off, standing up again bench and moving towards her. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks right at her, and Oh Merlin, those eyes — "Lily, are you okay?"
"I'm not, but that's not the point. Ever since sixth year, I've —"
"You're not okay? What's going on? You have been seeming off lately, I was going to ask —"
"James, would you please just listen to me!"
"Right, er, sorry." He takes his hands off her shoulders and leans back a little, and Lily misses his closeness.
"Ever since the sixth year — and I know this'll be hard for you to believe, but, well, here it is — ever since the sixth year I've had feelings for you, and at first I thought that they would pass, but it's been a year, James, and I —"
He closes his eyes. "Lily —"
"James, would you please let me finish, I promise I'll bugger off after —"
He opens his eyes, adjusts his glasses. "Lily, you don't understand." His hands find her waist, and Lily realizes that she's misinterpreted his response. "Since fifth year," he whispers, and she feels something opening inside of her, like the sun peaking through the clouds, "since fifth year, Lily, I've liked you a lot more than I should admit."
She looks up at him. They're so close, in more ways than one; Lily can feel them standing on the edge of something amazing, can feel James's hands on her back, can feel the way he's leaning in ever so slightly. "I'm glad we've got that settled, then," she whispers.
He smiles, and then he kisses her. It's nothing like Lily would have expected, no awkward moment when they're trying to figure out how to hold each other, where to put their hands — in fact, to Lily's overloaded and dazzled mind, it's like they just fit, like they're picking up from where they left off in a past life. She doesn't think about this too much, though, because James is pulling her closer and she's wrapping her arms around his neck and messing with his hair and feeling his smile against her lips, and she's thinking that maybe they should get more comfortable, because she doesn't intend on going to that party for a while, not when she and James have just stumbled upon something new and wonderful, not when James is backing her slowly against the wall —
"Oops!"
She jumps away from him and looks towards the door, which has been thrust open by Dorcas and Marlene. By the sound of it, Marlene spoke, now, her eyes find Lily's, flashing invisible thumbs-up signs.
"Hullo, ladies," James says evenly, and Lily can't even imagine what they must look like right now. She finds she doesn't care, though, because James is here and he's hers, at least for now.
"Lily, we just wanted to tell you that, erm, we found your necklace in the stands," Marlene says, holding up a star necklace that Lily's always been particularly fond of.
"I guess it fell off," Lily replies lamely, walking further out of James's vicinity to take it from her friends.
"Well, that's it…" Dorcas says, clearing her throat.
"Carry on!" Marlene adds loudly, and Lily scowls as they tumble out of the room, slamming the door shut on their way out.
"They're ridiculous," she says, pretty sure she's blushing.
James walks over to her, the corner of his mouth — a mouth that had just been on her mouth, sweet Merlin — quirked up slightly. "We all are, to be honest."
"Should we go to the party?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, Lily realizes what a stupid thing to say it is.
"Sure," James says, and his half-smile turns into a grin. "Only if you'll come as my date, though."
"You don't bring dates to common room parties, Potter," Lily scoffs, trying to contain her own smile.
"Well, Evans, considering I'm captain of the team that just thrashed Slytherin, I think I can do what I want."
"If you say so." The smile breaks through, but it's not like she feels bad about it. He shoulders his broomstick and bag, looks around the room one more time, and takes Lily's hand.
"Shall we?"
Lily is happier than usual. James notices it on the walk back to the castle; notices how she smiles up at the sky, how she squeezes his hand while he talks about the match, how she invites him to go to Hogsmeade with her ("A real date, James, where we go someplace that's not in the common room"), how she blushes when they walk through the portrait hole, hand in hand, to the sound of wolf-whistling and shouted congratulations — James notices all these things, and hopes that she stays happy. He promises himself that he'll keep her happy for as long as she'll have him — this month, maybe, or this year, or (if he's lucky), the rest of her life.