A/N: Written for aceremuslupin on Tumblr for Jily Secret Santa. Also: someone asked why I'd deleted my Tumblr - I disappeared (long story) for about six months, but I'm now amoretentia, so please find me there!

Resolutions

"To be more organised."

"Oh no. No. That is so categorically textbook of you, Evans, and quite frankly I'm disappointed."

"Okay, then. To write more."

"Come on, you already write an extra ten inches on every assignment we're given. Be original."

"To … learn to play Quidditch?"

At this, Potter snorted, and Lily looked at him reproachfully. If he was going to completely disregard all of her practical - and useful - resolutions, he needn't make fun of the ones he was forcing her to spontaneously make up.

"Learning to play Quidditch is a resolution you can make at the turn of the millennium, Lily," said James, "because I really think you'll need the extra bit of luck."

Lily rolled her eyes. "One fall in first year and you've all branded me hopeless."

"It's hardly an unjustified conclusion," James said pointedly. "You did break both your legs."

Lily paused a beat. "And my wrist." She joined in his laughter then, before glancing at her watch and sighing. It was 3am on the first of January, and Lily sorrowfully mourned the fact that she wasn't safely tucked up in her four poster, sound asleep. Instead, she stood with James Potter alone in the Great Hall. Strewn around them were the remains of the New Years party that the Head Girl and Boy had decided to throw this year. The leftovers of the feast had been cleared away, but the rest of the Great Hall was, to put it frankly, a mess. Streamers hung limply from the enchanted ceiling - which, at midnight, had displayed the London fireworks - and confetti was strewn across the stone floor, which was sticky in places from spilt Butterbeer. In the middle of it all the two students moved wearily, vanishing rubbish as they went, and levitating a variety of cleaning supplies before them.

"Why in the name of Merlin," muttered Lily, "did I volunteer to help clean this up?"

"Beats me," replied James, failing to stifle a yawn. "For me it was this or cleaning the second floor bathroom with Filch. You had every opportunity to be sleeping right now."

There were, of course, a number of reasons why Lily had volunteered to be one half of the unlucky pair to be doing the New Years party clean up. For one, she was one of only two prefects staying behind over the Christmas holidays, and since the Heads had planned the party for weeks and had set everything up, she felt she ought to give them a hand in dismantling it all. (She had also known that the other prefect, a fifth year Slytherin who'd only become prefect by bullying her peers out of applying for the role, would never have responded to the same call to duty). This was also the first time she'd spent the festive season at school, and the thrill of celebrations filled with magic had caused a momentary delusion where she'd thought that helping in the clean-up might actually be fun.

And, though she would hardly admit it to herself, she had known that James had his detention tonight, after having dip-dyed Mrs Norris in red and green stripes "in honour of the festive season". There weren't many Gryffindors staying back over the holidays - and of the sixth years it was just her, Mary, and the Marauders - and Lily had been surprised to find that she no longer minded being in close proximity with the boys. In that light, she had supposed that the possibility of exchanging a week's work of rounds for a night doing chores with James Potter mightn't be such a bad deal. And so far, it hadn't been. But he'd turned the conversation towards New Year's resolutions, and then the prat couldn't seem to find any merit in any of hers.

"Alright then," said Lily, sitting with a flump on one of the Hufflepuff benches. "Tell me yours."

James slowed his movements, before stopping completely and turning to look at her. A small crease appeared between his brows and Lily watched him, unblinking, feeling that somehow this was a moment to be left unbroken. James seemed to come to a decision for he gave a little nod, as though to himself, and flicked his wand to set a dustpan and brush about sweeping up the shards of a shattered goblet lying on the flagstones. Then he sat down beside her.

"To start," he said, "I want to stop getting detention all the time."

Lily's lips twitched. "I hate to tell you, but you're not off to the best start."

James gave a low chuckle, but the set of his shoulders told Lily that he was serious. "I said to start, didn't I?" he said. "And anyway, I'm here because of something I did last year." He went quiet, and Lily turned her head to see him chewing his lip, deep in thought. "I feel like … it's time to grow up, you know? I'm seventeen soon, and the world's a lot bigger than the next stupid thing I do for a laugh."

Lily nudged his shoulder. "Hey," she said, "that was almost profound."

"Well, profoundness is second on the list."

"What's third?"

"Nothing." James shrugged. "Really, I don't really believe in resolutions. It takes a lot more than a New Year to change a person, I think. But … well, you know my dad died this summer, don't you?"

"Yeah," said softly. Mr Potter had had a high-profile position in the Ministry, and news of his death had spread quickly. And now that Lily thought about it, something about James seemed to have softened since the last school year.

"I think it's time to be better, for him," said James simply. "I don't like making promises to myself about the whole year, because I'll never keep them … but surely if I'm less of a delinquent, everything'll stem from that. And then…"

"And then?"

A slow grin spread across James' features. "And then Filch will realise I'm a changed man, and fall madly in love with me." He grabbed an empty cup beside him, and raised it in a mock toast. "Mrs Norris be damned."

"Aha," said Lily. "I knew there was an ulterior motive behind her new hairdo."

"What can I say?" replied James. "She's standing between me and the love of my life."

Lily rose to her feet again, suddenly deep in thought. It might have just been the late hour, or the Firewhisky that Mary had forced down her throat, but maybe … maybe she wanted to be honest, too. James had been surprisingly honest with her, after all, without any flourish in his words. He just seemed - felt - real. As she swept some confetti into a bin bag, Lily blurted, "I want to get over my sister."

"Get over?" said James, still seated, but looking at her curiously. "You make it sound like a breakup."

Lily flushed slightly. "It is, a little bit." She sighed, wondering how to explain it to him. "I left home - left her - for this whole new life that she's never been a part of and can never understand. It made things a bit weird from the start, but now … it's like we don't know each other. It's horrible whenever I go home. So I want to get over all of that, because it's pointless worrying about it. I can't do what she wants, so I may as well stop trying."

"What does she want?" James asked gently.

"Probably for me to become a secretary." Lily allowed herself a small smile. "She wants me to reject this world, really. Forget I was ever a part of it, and accept what's normal."

"But you belong here. This is normal."

Exactly, thought Lily, but she didn't say it aloud. She turned to face James, feeling a new kind of wonder. He spoke with such simplicity and with such confidence in his words, him with his pureblood privilege, enviable charisma and excessive talent. He who had it all, telling her with no hint of agenda that she had a place in this world. And it wasn't just this world that felt normal, Lily realised with a small measure of surprise, it was this moment, too.

Perhaps James Potter had already grown up.

Taking a quick step forward, Lily bent and pressed her lips firmly against James'. She pulled back after a second, barely stifling a laugh at the sight of his baffled face. James swallowed.

"Well," he said, his voice suddenly on a higher pitch. "There's the New Years kiss, I guess."

Lily grinned, moving back to her task with the confetti. "You know, Potter," she called over her shoulder, "I have a feeling that '77 could just be your year."