fascination
just a passing glance, just a brief romance
Lily drives.
She drives because no one would stay with her and James in the back, no matter how much they both insisted it wouldn't be a problem for anyone who did. That they promise they'd keep the cuddling to a minimum. Or the snogging. Or the hushed giggles. The usual. But then it looked like it was going to rain, and it was most probable that she would need his arms around her and he would need her lips on his neck; so even to them their promises sounded half-hearted. No one bought any of it. Sirius and Peter were practically having a wrestling match on the side of the street over the bloody passenger seat. Real mature, right? In the end, Remus turned to James and Lily, sighed, pulled out his most exasperated, 'I'm really exhausted so please do something about these goons' look—and they relented.
She drives also because Remus is tired; he didn't get off last night as planned, and he said he was just going to sleep in the car. Because Sirius can't be trusted with his music preferences. Because James needs constant reminding not to murder the accelerator. Because the last time Peter was behind the wheel, they fell into a shallow ditch. Short attention span. He couldn't for the life of him help taking his eyes off the road every time any of them spotted and pointed at something even remotely interesting, which James and Sirius unfortunately did a lot.
Lily has long noticed how they have too much pent up energy for being in such a cramped space for a relatively long time. It's entertaining to her, how they can't defray all that flurry evenly throughout the entire trip. They use up all the excitement in the first few hours—the loud, off-key singing, the car games, fights over the stereo, the enthusiastic prank recounts, complete with exaggerated additions and Remus's muttered corrections, the charades, the neverending crackle of potato crisp wrappers ripped open—and the next thing she knows Remus's head is thudding against the fogged-up window, Sirius's is falling on Remus's shoulder, and Peter is slumping down the back of James's seat.
"Who's that?" James asks quietly as a new song comes on, straightening up and rubbing his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches the road. It's getting dark, the groves on either side of them are a rougher, denser wall now, blacker than green, the sky struggling to display the remnants of a picturesque sunset they can't see from this stretch of the highway.
"Nat King Cole," says Lily. She smiles. She used to dance with her dad to this song. Christmas, cinnamon cookies, feet on tiptoes keeping up on the carpeted living floor. She imagines, wonders if her daughter would dance with James like that too someday. She hopes she would. "D'you like it?"
"Yeah." And then he grins, bites his lower lip to keep his smug huff quiet, although she can't see it all, and adds, "It's nice to make out to, I reckon."
She snorts, reaching out blindly to hit his arm.
Peter is startled, snores particularly loud at the sound. Sirius jumps at Peter's racket, accidentally nudges Remus, whose head hits the window. It all lasts about three seconds, and no one wakes up.
"Idiots," says James, craning his neck to watch them. And then he yawns again.
"You can sleep if you want, you know," says Lily.
"Nah, I'm good."
"Well, alright."
"Hey, Evans?"
"Hm?"
"I… really like this song."
"Me too."
The sun has set completely. It starts to drizzle. Lily shifts her position to relax her back more, feeling perfectly content with the hum of the car, the rolling patch of concrete ahead, and the company of her favourite gits in the world.
"Think we can dance to this on our wedding?" James mumbles, and she has to grip the wheel tight to not swerve onto the other lane.
She risks a wide-eyed glance at him—James Potter in that bright, striped, stag-patterned sweater she gave him for his birthday, with his arms still over his chest, glasses almost falling off, and… oh, what the hell—eyes closed, mouth open, head hung and nodding off towards the window, bloody asleep right after such a… a ridiculous, grand, totally unexpected statement—
Her eyes reluctantly drag themselves back to the road. She shakes her head and chuckles to herself.
Asleep! Goodness. What an idiot.
Her idiot.
She hums the rest of the song and grins the rest of the way.
it was fascination, i know, seeing you alone with the moonlight above.