Snatch My Heart

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to women-inthe-sequel on tumblr! I adore the life out of you, Marieka. This silly fic is my attempt at showing you how much your friendship means to me even though I've known you only for a couple of months. You deserve all the love in the world, and I hope you enjoy this!

Also P.S. - There's a LOT of shouting in the fic.

It was just another Wednesday summer morning.

Birds were chirping away as they flew over the cloudless, clear sky, the sun shining brightly down upon the city of London. Cars were zooming past the streets, hundreds of people were chatting over on their phones, and the quick 'tap-tap-tap' of fingers on screens as they texted away to their hearts' content could be heard at every nook and cranny of occupiable space. People were cursing, doors were slamming, vendors were vending, and Sirius Black was sleeping.

All was well in James Potter's world.

"Padfoot, I'm leaving!" He screamed on the fine day, pocketing his wallet and taking a giant bite out of his chocolate granola bar. It was 10 A.M. and he was slightly late, but it mattered not for James was a hotel owner, and thereby his own boss. Needless to say, he was also quite loaded.

And while it may have been suggested to him on more than one occasion that he move into his hotel, into a luxury suite too, permanently—because "imagine the luxury, James!"—he liked his privacy. He liked having a nutcase of a best friend to share a flat with, and despite all appearances, he did not like grandeur dripping from all aspects of his life.

Presently, his proclamation was met with a muffled "Mm,'kay", indicating that Sirius hadn't died in his sleep last night, which was really all the assurance James had been looking for.

With a satisfied nod of his head, he stepped out of the apartment, closed the door behind him and made his way down the stairs.

As usual, he was greeted on the way out by Minerva McGonagall, their Landlady, who lived on the ground floor of the same building, and who was very possibly the person James respected most in the world after his parents. Generally, in the past, his encounters with her had been either extremely professional (like when she had to discuss maintenance issues with him) or quite casual (like when he passed by her flat every morning as she stepped out to pick up the newspaper in her emerald green house-robe).

Today, however, was a little different. She was dressed in smart formals, carrying a small leather purse and looking like she was ready to finally complete her mission of world domination.

"Morning, Mr. Potter," she greeted him, a tight bun making her already severe face look even more strict. She gave him the once-over, and then nodded her head approvingly. "You're looking very presentable today. Shame I cannot say the same for your hair, though."

"Oh," James said, feeling quite pleased by her semi-compliment, even as his hand jumped to his chaotic hair to ruffle the strands into what he referred to as an 'organized disarray'. He grinned at the woman, knowing quite well that he was pulling off the black suit and trousers dashingly. "Thanks, Minnie, summer's just starting, so we're going to be quite busy at the hotel with people coming to visit dear old London. Thought I'd give the team a nice presentation to boost their spirits. I've some really cool strategies planned out and everything."

"That's quite smart of you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall agreed, stepping out and leaving James to follow her. "Though if I'm not wrong, you're running a little late, and that's not the example you should be setting for your employees."

"Nah, they don't know I'm coming."

"No?" She looked at him sideways, mouth tilting up into an amused smile. "And why is that?"

"Told them I was too hung-over from partying last night so that I could surprise them," James admitted. Upon seeing McGonagall's raised eyebrows, however, he backtracked, "Er, it was a lie, of course. And if I were to ever party, you know I'd never bother the neighbors. Quiet as cats, Sirius and I are."

"Of course, and I suppose you take me to be deaf as a bat, too."

Upon noticing that her smile still hadn't dropped, James chuckled easily. "That's enough about me, but what about you, Minnie? Off to steal hearts on this fine Wednesday morning?"

"I have a job interview, if you must know."

"That's fantastic! What's it for?"

"It's for the post of a career counselor at Hogwarts School of Expressive Arts and Learning."

"Blimey! I wish they'd had someone like you when we studied there," James grinned, "But don't worry, Minnie, the job is yours. They can't possibly find anyone better than you."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mr. Potter. And do not fret; you have grown into a fine gentleman—albeit with an eccentric mop of hair—even without the counseling. Though I'm sure some kids these days could definitely do with the advice."

James, upon remembering his unruly neighbors, who often liked blaring electronic music at three in the morning at inhumane volumes, vigorously nodded his head.

"Now, I must get going, Mr. Potter. Good day to you," McGonagall said.

James wished her good luck and smiled pleasantly before calling her a cab and watching it drive off. Feeling quite proud of his Landlady, and certain that she would land the job, he made his way down the street towards the hotel—which was all but a few blocks away—with a broad grin plastered to his face.

And if he got a few odd looks from other civilians because of this grinning…well, that was neither here nor there, and they really needed to mind their own business.

It was only when his mobile phone buzzed in the pocket of his trousers, signaling that he was getting a call, that James took his eyes off the streets. He was on the footpath, of course, and therefore not in any imminent danger of being run over.

Besides, James Potter prided himself on being a responsible citizen, thank you very much.

"Hello?" he said into the speaker, just as a loud truck that was stuck in traffic honked beside him. After throwing an irritable glance at the driver, he tried again. "Hello? Who's this?"

"James, it's me, Peter! I haven't let anyone know that you're coming in today yet, but where are you?"

"Oh hey, Pete! Sorry, I'm running a bit late. Will be there in five," James answered, "What number are you calling from? It wasn't saved on my phone."

"Ah, it's a long story. I accidentally dropped my phone from the balcony this morning."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah, and it fell on this nasty old man passing by, and he wanted to sue the hotel!" There was a loud scoff on the other end of the line, "I mean, what a grouch, right?!"

"It fell from the hotel's balcony?! What the hell were you doing there, anyway, Peter—?"

"I was inspecting the room after the guests left, Prongs, but we managed it and—God, it's way too loud on your end, my ears hurt!"

"Your what?!" James yelled, trying to concentrate on what his friend was saying. It seemed like a ridiculously difficult task though, given that the traffic was horrible and that all the gathered vehicles had seemingly decided to follow the truck driver's example and had taken to honking obnoxiously. "You've gotta speak louder, Peter!"

"I said it's too loud! My ears hurt!"

"It's the bloody traffic here!" Now James was screaming too, and it seemed that no matter how much he tried to walk away, the honking was following him. "God knows what's going on!"

"It's probably the blockade at the junction, took me ages to get to the hotel this morning!"

"The what?!"

"The BLOCKADE, James!"

"Right," James shook his head, still unable to understand what Peter had said, but deciding it wasn't worth yelling over. "Listen, mate, about your phone dropping—"

"We took care of it. Had to offer him a complimentary breakfast, but—"

"No, I meant, you can't just go take a smoke in the hotel rooms, Peter—"

"I wasn't!" James could hear the sudden squeak in his friend's voice despite the cacophony around him. "I told you I was just inspecting the room."

"Oh come off it, we both know you—"

"Stop him!"

"What?"

"What?" Peter's voice on the other end of the line reflected the confusion in James's own tone. "What what?"

"Stop whom?"

"Stop—? Stop what? What are you talking about?"

There was another loud bout of honking during which James refrained from answering Peter, and chose instead to stare at his phone in confusion. His brows furrowed. He could've sworn he heard a plea, and the voice had sounded very feminine. James didn't think much of this because he was very well aware of how high-pitched Peter could get. But if it wasn't his friend then—

"Oh my God, STOP THAT MAN!"

James looked up, the voice he'd heard before now amplified due to a lull in the honking procession, and he finally located the source of the yelling. Almost soon as he did, the unbidden thought that went through his head was, 'how the fuck did I ever think that it could've been Peter?' because there was nothing even mildly manly about the owner of that voice.

The first thing he noticed was her flaming red hair; shoulder-length and whipping behind her like a curtain of fire as she ran. The second thing he noticed, as she drew closer, was how maddeningly green her eyes were, the kind of green that reminded you of rain-forests and gemstones and translucent dew drops on shards of grass. The third observation, which James was a little slow to make, was that she looked incredibly distressed, her full lips pulled into a frown as she staggered down the footpath in her high heels as fast as she could. Her panic-filled eyes locked onto James, widening only for a second before she raised her hand and pointed straight at him.

"STOP HIM! He's got my bag!"

This was completely absurd, of course, because James had never even seen her before in his entire life.

Or maybe he had, in some dream of his, because she was evidently the most surreally beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on—and it wouldn't be too far-fetched to hypothesize that she was an angel and not a real person at all—but as far as his memory served, he hadn't met her before, and certainly not In Real Life.

And if he had met her before and somehow lost all memories of such an interaction, James certainly wouldn't have spent that time stealing her fucking bag, of all things! He knew himself enough to be entirely confident in that evaluation.

It was therefore a bogus accusation, he concluded.

He'd opened his mouth to inform her of the same thing—'I haven't stolen your bag, but you're gorgeous and we should get married and produce at least twenty babies for aesthetic purposes, yes?'—when she started flailing her arms around wildly, stopping him short.

"Behind you! He's getting away!"

Out of reflex, James turned around, and spotted a man with short-cropped brown hair hightailing it down the street in the direction James had just come from. There was a black purse noticeably dangling from his right hand, and it was swinging violently from side to side as the perpetrator ran.

Ah, thought James. A bag-snatcher. That made so much more sense.

By now, almost everyone in the vicinity had stopped to stare at the chaos and the source of all the yelling. Suddenly, it seemed like even the lunatic honkers had ceased their mad contribution towards noise pollution because clearly there was nothing more important or exciting than being an active onlooker of crime. Several bystanders already had their phones out, recording the fiasco, and James was entirely flabbergasted—because when did they even have the time to pull out their phones?!—but couldn't do anything about the imbeciles on earth because he had a mission to accomplish.

After all, how often did you get the chance to heroically save the day and look infinitely cool in front of an angel-disguised-as-a-human-woman while doing so?

Not very often, is what.

And so, after half a second of all these thoughts and observations, James promptly turned on his feet, the pleasant summer air whooshing against his face, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose and his phone emitting a faint noise—signaling that Peter had finally given up on screeching his name and had cut the call—before he was off, chasing the snatcher who could thankfully still be seen amongst the throng of people making their way to work.

This obviously had something to do with the fact that everyone moved out of the way when they saw a man barreling towards them at full speed, but James didn't concentrate on that.

He couldn't, not when the thought of everyone just standing around and staring and making way for the thief made his blood boil. He didn't understand people. Everyone hated thieves, and yet no one wanted to step forward and help catch said thieves when the time came?! Disgraceful.

But James shoved his anger aside for the time being, and he was soon flying past the surprised civilians who were too slow to react. They just stuck to the sides, watching in stunned silence, and thankfully no one was stupid enough to block his path.

James wanted to believe this was because he looked bold and dashing and serious and a little bit frightening as he ran in his suit, giving off all the right James Bond vibes.

"MOVE!" The redhead shouted from behind him. "GET OUT OF HIS WAY, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS—"

But yes, it was probably because of that.

She was extremely supportive, that girl. Very fierce, too. She hadn't stopped yelling since he'd begun the chase, although the clomping of her heels was slowly fading away as he ran. The growing distance didn't stop her though, because she was screaming all sorts of obscenities at anyone who even came close to causing a hindrance, and cheered him on like no cheerleader had ever done for James in college.

This may have been a given since it was, after all, her purse that had been stolen. But James wasn't going to be dissecting the specific reasons behind her actions, and instead, chose to simply bask in pride and let the motivation flow through him.

Sadly, this did not last for too long, because James was a lot faster than her and had soon run quite far away to be within earshot of her encouraging shrieks. But he did not let this unfortunate situation deter him, for it turned out that James was also quite a bit faster than the brown-haired bag snatcher. It was only a matter of time before he was upon the man, a long, tanned arm reaching out to pull him back using the collar of his plaid shirt.

With a quick, silent thanks to all the hours spent playing football in college and keeping himself fit enough that it allowed him to outrun a criminal, James jerked the man around to face him.

"Gotcha!"

"LET GO, MAN—!"

James wasn't quick enough. Not even with his amazing reflexes which he prided himself on. There was no way he could have braced himself for it, because it was entirely accidental.

With an unforeseen amount of strength, James had yanked back the thief so hard that the man's right arm flew at a dangerously odd angle right into James's face. With clarity that came only when facing disastrous situations, James saw a pale white elbow come too close to his face, as if in slow motion, felt the frame of his glasses break under impact and fall to the ground, and yet, the elbow still kept going, on and on until he felt and heard his nose crack painfully loud.

Blood poured and James swore.

"FUCK! OH HOLY SHIT, THAT HURTS—"

"OH CRAP, LEMME GO, MAN!"

"SHUT UP! FUCK YOU! GIVE ME THE BAG!"

By now, James had one of his hands gently covering his bloody nose while he held firm to the thief with his other hand. The man had a sallow face, with dirty stubble that was in dire need of shaving. He stared at James with horrified and panic-filled eyes while continuously trying to wriggle free of his grasp.

James might have actually felt bad for the guy if he hadn't stolen someone's purse, hadn't just jammed his elbow into James's nose, and didn't have a particularly disgusted tilt to his mouth as he noticed the blood that was now dribbling onto James's suit.

Great. So much for a peppy presentation to his employees. A demonstration on How to Get Yourself Killed seemed more appropriate now.

"Oh my god," someone panted next to James. He turned his head to look, and of-bloody-course it was the redheaded goddess herself, finally here to see James covered in blood that oozed from his broken nose. The worst part was the embarrassment that came from knowing that he had literally injured himself, however indirectly. "Oh my god, I hate these heels, but HA! You've got him now and—OH GOD, YOU'RE BLEEDING! ARE YOU OKAY?"

"It's fine, I'm fine."

"Did he do that to you?" She turned to stare at the bag-snatcher, and now James did pity him because despite being unable to see too clearly on account of having his glasses broken, he could tell that the woman was all but spitting fire, her tone as cold as the depths of a frozen ocean. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of such anger from anyone ever. "Oh, you little bastard—"

And then she was off, stomping over to the man before promptly kicking his shin with her pointy heels. "How dare you?! GIVE. ME. MY. BAG!" She enunciated each word with a kick, finally stopping when the thief howled in pain and dropped the bag in lieu of clutching at his leg.

"Take it, JESUS! You're absolutely crazy! My leg—"

"Where do you think you're going?" She held onto the man when it looked like he was ready to bolt again. This was a little unnecessary given that James still had a tight grasp on him, but he wasn't complaining. He was starting to see stars now, and that was never a good sign. "The police should be here soon—"

"THE POLICE?!" The snatcher gasped, eyes widening comically as if he'd never even considered that stealing was illegal and would have repercussions. James couldn't help the disbelief that took over his expression, and was glad to see the sentiment mirrored on the angel/goddess's face.

"Seriously?" She deadpanned. "You literally stole my bag and ran—ah! Here they are!"

Sure enough, a smart-looking, slightly burly police officer was making his way towards them. His face was set into a no-nonsense expression, and after a quick statement from the girl, which James was honestly too disoriented to listen to, the bag-snatcher was arrested. James finally let go of the man and gently touched his nose, cringing when it smarted.

"You should get to a hospital, sir," The officer said in parting. James simply nodded his head and watched the snatcher, who still looked strangely shocked, being taken away.

"God, what a morning!" The redhead sighed heavily, turning around to look at James. Her brows pinched into a worried frown as she stepped closer. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this mess because of me."

"Not at all, it's okay, I'm fine." He was starting to feel a bit woozy now. He may have smiled, he couldn't be certain.

Also, why were there dark spots appearing over her hazily beautiful, concerned face?

"Are you sure? That's a lot of blood. The officer was right; we should take you to the hospital."

"No, no, no, I'm fine! Totally fine, no, no, I'm fine."

"Really? Because you're repeating your words, you look pale, and you look like you're about to topple over."

"Yeah, you might wanna catch me."

And that was the last thing James remembered saying before he blacked out.

He didn't even know her name.

It was that particularly upsetting thought that pulled James back into consciousness. His hazel eyes blinked open to his room's pale yellow ceiling, and he frowned in confusion. After noticing the painting of a slumbering stag on the opposite wall, and confirming that it was indeed his apartment and he was back in his room, he felt around on his bedside table for his spare pair of glasses and put them on. A slight sound made him turn his head to the left to find two piercing green eyes and a gentle smile directed at him.

"Hey, there," she said, and James knew it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Such a stark contrast to when she was hollering filthy words at the top of her lungs, though that particular quirk was highly endearing as well. "How are you now?"

"Great," James replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position before his hand reached up to touch the bridge of his nose, where he felt a small strip of plaster covering his skin. "I can barely feel the pain anymore."

"Oh, thank God, your friend got the doctor—Pomfrey, I believe her name was—and she was the one who fixed you up," the girl said, her smile broadening into a grin. "I'm glad she did. I can thank you properly now."

James's pulse skittered. "You really don't need to thank me."

It wasn't like him to go so crazy over someone, especially based on their physical appearance, after just one, madly chaotic incident. But from what he'd gauged so far, this girl was so much more than just her beauty; she was brimming with energy, wit, and fire so bright that it threatened to blind James to everything else around him. He'd never seen anyone swear, fight and cheer quite as passionately as she did, and this was saying something because he lived with Sirius-fucking-Black.

And James was probably an absolute loon for already having his heart hammering away hopefully against his chest, but God, he hoped he was right about her and that she wasn't a mean hag in reality.

"But I do," she implored, pulling him out of his thoughts as her eyes trapped him in with sincerity. "You were absolutely wonderful, you caught the thief and retrieved my bag, and—"

"And I passed out on you."

"Out of blood loss, James! You got hurt because of me—"

"Hang on," he stopped her from complimenting him farther because the tips of his ears felt hot and his ego was taking an unhealthy boost (Remus chastised him about it often enough), but most importantly because—"How did you know my name?"

"Oh, that," she blinked, "I—uh, Sirius told me."

"Sirius?"

"Yeah," she nodded, eyes widening. "Right, of course, how stupid of me, you must be super confused. You're probably wondering how you got here? I should have started with that."

"No actually," James shook his head slowly, "I was wondering what your name was."

"Oh," she said again, and James couldn't help the hope that bloomed in his chest when her cheeks tinged pink. "I'm Lily. Lily Evans."

It was the perfect name, he thought. Both gentle and strong at the same time, like wind blowing against your face, like advice given by a loved one, like the flower that grew and blossomed despite the ugliness in the world, like the feeling Love itself. Beautiful and daring. Lily.

But he didn't dare voice all these thoughts, for there was a fine line between being sweet and creepy, and he wanted to steer clear of the wrong territory entirely. So instead, he gave her his best grin. "Hi, Lily. I'm James, as you already know."

"Hello, James," she smiled coyly, "Do you want to know a secret? I've always loved the name James."

"Have you, now?"

Lily nodded. "Truly. That was probably why I decided to stay by your side when Sirius found me. Well, found us, but you were unconscious, and I was dialing 9-1-1 when he was passing by."

"No doubt he was the one who suggested bringing me here?"

"Yeah! He said there was no one better than Pomfrey to fix you up, and I have to agree now," Lily shrugged with a smile, "I should probably go tell him you're awake. He said he was going to order takeout, but that was a while back—"

"Nice of you to finally think of me," came a voice from the doorway, and James rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "I've only been standing here for an hour now."

"That's not possible, Sirius. I literally looked a minute ago, and you weren't there," James pointed out, smirking.

"Shut up, you're injured, mate, you don't know what you're seeing."

"Just to let you know, I never saw through my nose."

"You should try, maybe you'd see better."

Lily laughed at the bickering. "This is cute, but you should have seen Sirius lose his shit when he found us."

The man in question grumbled under his breath. "Well, you should have seen you."

But James felt warmth spread through his chest and smiled softly. "Thanks mate. Sorry you had to skip work because of this."

"Fuck work, I'll deal with that. Peter called and said he'd heard some yelling, so I went around checking. That's when I found you. And I'm glad you're not dead, Prongs," he shrugged with a smile, before loudly clapping his hands. "Now, who's hungry? I'm absolutely starving. The food should be here soon."

With that said, Sirius swaggered out of the room, leaving James chuckling. He made a mental note to thank Peter later and reschedule his presentation to the employees.

"I should leave now," Lily sighed after a beat and stood up, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"What?! Why?" James couldn't help the panicked pitch his voice took. And then realization hit him. "Oh, right, you must have to get to your office."

"Er, it's 6pm, James."

"It's WHAT?!"

"You were out for a while," Lily smiled sadly, "And if I go to Clifford Chance now, they'll eat my head."

"You're a lawyer?" James sincerely hoped his expression wasn't transparent enough to show how hot he found her. She really was something out of a fairy-tale; smart, witty, kind and beautiful. He wondered for a second if he was still out cold or not. "Wow! That's amazing, and somehow makes me feel worse for holding you up like this."

"No, please, I should be the one apologizing, if anything." She said, "So I'll be leaving now. I've already overstayed my welcome here."

"That's nonsense! You stayed all this time, waiting for me to wake up, and I can't just let you leave now, that's not—"

"James!" Lily stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder even though her face turned impossibly red. "It's alright, I really should be getting back, it's been a long day."

"Right," James deflated, his gaze falling, "Of course, you're tired, too. I understand."

"But," she continued, slightly increasing the pressure on his shoulder so that he looked up into bright green eyes again, "I really want to thank you properly."

"You already have, Lily, and I told you that you don't need to—"

"I want to," she grinned, "How about dinner tomorrow night? I'll let you choose the place."

James, who had his mouth open, ready to insist that she didn't need to thank him some more, promptly lost his voice. He blinked twice, ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

"Dinner? Is that—er, does that mean you—?"

"YES, SHE'S ASKING YOU ON A DATE, YOU DOLT!" Sirius screeched from somewhere beyond the door. James couldn't see him, which probably meant he'd been hiding and eavesdropping the whole time.

"Right," he cleared his throat again, promptly deciding that he'd suffocate Sirius in his sleep tonight.

But Lily just laughed happily, her eyes shining. "He's right you know. I am asking you on a date. Given that you don't already have a girlfriend, of course."

"I don't!" James was quick to reassure her, and a huge grin broke across his face. "And I'd love to. Go out with you, I mean."

"Great," she smiled, biting her lip.

"Great," James repeated.

"JUST KISS ALREADY!"

And the rest, as they say, was history.