It was a bad idea, her being here, with a glass of champagne in her hand and a sleek blue dress hugging her body. She isn't sure why she even came to the wedding ceremony, let alone the reception. She barely knows Alice and Frank, both of them being two years ahead of her at Hogwarts. He is mates with Frank though. She knows this. It was the first thing she thought of when she got the invitation. And now he is the only thing she can think of as she sits at a table with Marlene and Mary, quietly sipping her alcohol and glaring at him from across the room.
"Lily, why don't you dance with us?" asks Mary, standing up with Marlene and heading toward the middle of the large banquet hall. Lily politely declines. A look is exchanged between the two girls standing, but they say no more as they leave the table.
Her eyes have not left him. If this wedding had taken place just three months ago they would have been there together. As a couple. Sitting at a table together and dancing, holding each other close and feeling like no one else mattered. Fuck.
He is sitting at a table with Sirius, Remus, Peter, and the Prewitt brothers. They are laughing. He is laughing. He looks happy. She wants him to be just as miserable as she is.
Of course he's miserable; you're the idiot who broke up with him. He's just good at hiding it.
He catches her staring— numerous times, actually. She finds that she doesn't care. She stares straight back, unflinching, knowing full well what she is doing to him. He catches her eyes with his and this time he does not immediately look away. He holds her gaze and gives her a very hesitant smile. She isn't sure she returns it. After a few minutes of this he stands up and begins walking toward her. He is all long limbs and dark hair and wild eyes behind signature glasses. He is about halfway to her table and she considers getting up and leaving, running away from him (like she did a few months ago) and every sordid emotion he is sure to bring up. She stays put.
"Hi Lily," he says as he reaches her. He rakes his eyes up and down her form, taking in her long red hair and her short blue dress.
"Hello James," she replies lamely. She is hoping to God that she sounds more self-assured, more confident and put together than she feels. She hopes that he cannot see through her paper-thin façade and into the hollow of her chest cavity. She hopes he cannot see how lonely she is, how filled with regret she is for giving up on them and how much (more than anything) she misses him.
She expects that he will ask her how she has been. He doesn't (she is thankful) and instead he asks if she'd like to dance with him. Leave it to James Potter to catch her completely off-guard.
She looks at him doubtfully and the words she spoke to him mere months ago play inside her head.
We can't do this anymore, James. You know we can't. They're going to target you for being with me. I…we can't let that happen.
He smiles (sadly?) and adds, "Just a dance. I won't drag you back to my flat or anything."
She echoes his smile and stands, reaching for his arm. They are already on the dance floor when she realizes that all of the couples around her are holding each other in tight embraces, dancing to a slow song. She sees Frank and Alice in the center, enjoying the dance as husband and wife. She briefly entertains the fantasy that it is she and James in their place, and that this is their wedding and she is wearing a long white dress with a matching veil. She quickly shakes the thought from her head.
He pulls her body close to his and her skin sings at the contact. Memories from when they were together threaten to engulf her, and she mentally braces herself, not wanting to feel the heat of tears on the back of her eyes.
"I've missed you," he mutters into her hair, and she freezes. He is still swaying. She thinks about when he would say the same thing when they were still at Hogwarts— when she would enter her dormitory only to find him in her bed, and he would rain kisses on her skin and whisper that he'd missed her during the few hours they'd been apart.
She pulls away from him to look him in the eye.
"What are you trying to do?" she accuses. Her voice is sharp and quickly growing angry.
"Let's go somewhere private. There are things I need to talk to you about," he says, sounding as though he is certain she will oblige him. Of course she will. He knows it just as well as she does. Yet still she tries to fight the inevitable, as if she has something to prove to herself by refusing to listen to him, as if refusing his request will cast him out of her mind and heart for good.
"Don't," she says. "Don't you dare do this. You know that we can't do this!"
When she told him three months ago that they couldn't be together he had yelled and screamed at her and told her how wrong she was. How she was stupid for being so fucking sensible and noble, for trying to protect him from the death eaters that would target him for loving Lily Evans, a mudblood, if they weren't already targeting him for being a well-known blood traitor. She was insistent, telling him that when the war was over they could be together, that they just needed to wait.
Her voice shakes as she stares up at him, the two of them no longer moving to the music. They stand still in a sea of swaying bodies, still clinging to one another.
He shakes his head with fervor. "Please Lily. Please just listen to me."
He rarely pleaded with her.
She closes her eyes and manages to choke out, "Where would you like to go?"
"My flat."
She is wary of going to his flat. The last time she was there was when they were together— when they had just left Hogwarts and things didn't look so bleak; before James had become so deeply involved in the Order; before Lily had convinced herself that she needed to be strong for the two of them and that meant breaking up with him.
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
She doesn't even know what she is saying anymore. She wants so badly to follow him, to latch on to him and make love to him on the navy blue sheets of his bed (the bed she was so familiar with) and never let go of him again, for she knows that she can never quite shake the devotion to him that lingers in her heart, clutching at the muscles of her chest and settling there. But the rationale that pierces through her like the sharp prick of a needle tells her to stop. Stop before it's too late, before she cannot manage to untangle her limbs from his or leave the warmth of his skin.
A new song starts up, and Lily is suddenly aware of the large crowd of people around them. She wishes to be alone with him, and thus she does not object when he grabs her hand and pulls her to the exit.
The crisp autumn air hits her as they step outside and she realizes that she left her jacket inside. She doesn't care. She has her handbag with her, containing her wand.
"Let's Side-Along," he suggests. She grasps his arm tightly and he spins them, disappearing into the night.
They appear moments later in the middle of the dark alleyway about two blocks from the flat in Muggle London that James shares with Sirius. The air whips around them as Lily takes a moment to collect herself, feeling slightly dizzy. She isn't sure if the Apparation is entirely the cause of that.
He once again clasps her hand in his, and it angers her.
He doesn't own me.
She isn't sure if that thought is even remotely true.
He walks them quickly up to his flat, dragging her up two flights of stairs. He is impatient. He has always been impatient.
As they enter his flat he instructs her to sit on the couch. She takes a seat, and suddenly she is consumed by the memory of the two of them crashing in to this couch, of his body pressing hers in to the cushions while his mouth moved from her lips to her neck.
She snaps back to the present with the realization that James is now pacing in front of her. He takes off his glasses and begins fiddling with them in his hands. He breathes deeply and stops in front of her.
"Lily. I can't be away from you anymore. I know you think that it's dangerous for us to be together, but I honestly don't care anymore. I don't."
She opens her mouth to speak but decides against it when she realizes that he has clearly rehearsed this.
"Things aren't going well for the Order. We need you Lily. We could use your potions skills. The injuries from the missions keep getting worse and Dumbledore isn't always around to heal people."
"Is that what—" she starts, but he cuts her off.
"People are dying, Lily. You know that. I— I could die."
Lily shakes her head and realizes that her vision is blurring.
"Yes. I could. And I can't—" his voice breaks as his own eyes fill with tears. "I can't spend what little time I could have left without you."
"Stop it, James," she pleads with him. "Don't say things like that." She fears death more than he does.
"I've come so close," he says, just barely above a whisper as he sinks to his knees and rests his head in her lap. His hands are clutching hers now. She feels a piece of the familiar intimacy that was once so prominent in their relationship.
"To death?" she chokes out.
He nods against her and she feels his hair brush against the thin fabric of her stockings as something inside of her breaks. He picks his head up and now his face is dangerously close to hers and she can see the tears that fall onto his cheeks and she can feel her own tears falling and she wishes more than anything that they could just fucking escape all this, just leave England and the war and forget what it feels like to attend the funeral of someone you were in school with just a few months ago.
"I can't do this without you, Lily," he says.
And suddenly she is not sure which one of them needs the other more; all she is sure of is that she misses him, and she is so, so tired of sleeping alone in her tiny flat that she can barely afford. And she is tired of the thoughts that run through her head before she drifts to sleep: Is James safe? Is he home right now? Is he thinking about me? She slowly shakes her head at him, her hands coming up from her lap to cradle his face.
"I'm sorry, James," she sobs. "I'm so sorry for leaving you."
He leans forward and presses his lips to hers in desperation. She reciprocates his kiss with ferocity, wrapping her arms around his neck and hoping that he feels the love and regret pouring out of her skin. There is so much need in his every action that it makes her cry even more.
He pulls away from her and brushes the tears from her cheeks with his calloused hands. He stares in to her eyes and the air around them shifts. His eyes darken with unbridled desire. She has missed that look. She has missed feeling so utterly wanted and desirable. The way he is looking at her causes a wave of sheer arousal to wash over her. With renewed passion she kisses him, urging his mouth open and exploring his mouth with her tongue. He stands and picks her up off the couch, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carries her toward the bedroom. Her hands are tangled in his hair and her face is pressed against his neck.
"I am so stupid, so bloody stupid," she speaks breathlessly. He lays her down on his bed.
He shakes his head until a smile covers his face.
"Well, maybe you were a little stupid," he says, laughing with boyish mirth while trying to put on a serious face and failing miserably.
Lily gasps in mock outrage before grabbing his shoulders and wrestling him down to the bed with her, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips. They laugh with one another as if there is no need for worry, and she prays that such a pure feeling, a feeling of lightness and happiness, will linger on in her heart long after the night ends.
James trails his fingertips over the shiny fabric of her dress.
"Why are you still wearing this?" She dissolves into another fit of giggles as he helps her out of the tight dress. His eyes hungrily roam over the newly exposed skin of her legs and torso as her hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Soon they are both in their underwear. He lunges at her and flips them so that she is underneath him. He moves his mouth from her neck to the curve of her breasts, eliciting a moan.
"I have missed this so much," he says between kisses. She gasps when his hands deftly remove her bra and his lips go straight for one of her nipples. She squirms beneath him, her body writhing with pleasure and the tension of his skin on hers. He pushes his hand past the lace of her panties and suddenly his fingers are right there and she is crying out and her skin is burning under his touch and every muscle in her body is aching toward his fingers while his lips suck on the skin of her neck. He pulls his hand away from her.
"Sit up against the headboard," she pants between heavy breaths.
He does as she instructs and watches in awe as she stands on the bed and pushes down her panties. She starts to remove the black stockings that come up to her thighs but James stops her.
"Leave them," he growls. She smiles at him as her hands tug his boxers off of his hips. She straddles his lap and kisses him with fervor as his erection pushes against her opening. His nails dig into the soft flesh of her hips as he pushes her down until he is fully inside her.
"Lily," he breathes. "Fuck. Fuck," he growls as her body grinds and writhes against his. He lowers his head to gain access to her breasts again, his tongue lapping at her skin. A smile breaks across Lily's face in the midst of the raw pleasure she feels.
He knows exactly what I want.
She quickens her pace and he lifts his hips to meet her every move. An ache begins to pull against the grain of her muscles, moving through her limbs as she climbs higher, feeling like she'll die if she doesn't reach her release. She is moaning his name and clutching his head in her hands. She pulls his head up to hers as she climaxes, pushing her tongue past his lips and moaning her ecstasy past his lips and in to his mouth. He groans and she feels the familiar warmth within her that signals his own release. She holds him in her arms and peppers kisses over his cheeks, forehead, and eyelids.
"I love you," she sighs.
"I love you so, so much, Lily. So fucking much." He buries his face in her neck, inhaling deeply.
"I missed the way you smell," he says in to her skin. She laughs.
He pulls back from her and takes a moment to stare at her, as if he is memorizing every line, curve, and freckle of her face. He chews on his bottom lip before smiling at her again.
"Do you want to take a bath together?"
She smiles back and nods.
Moments later Lily is moving off of James's bed and into the bathroom, where a large tub—magically enlarged, no doubt— is almost full. The air smells of pepper mint. James slips in to the steaming water and Lily follows. The tub is large enough for them to sit across from each other, their legs stretched out before them. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, and for the first time that night Lily notices the dark circles beneath his eyes, the chapped skin of his lips, and the yellowing bruises and slowly healing cuts that decorate his chest and shoulders.
"Do… do you want me to heal those for you?" she asks tentatively. Without opening his eyes he slowly nods. She wordlessly summons her wand from the other room and catches it in her outstretched hand. Using non-verbal healing spells she runs her wand across his upper body. When she is finished she drops her wand to the floor and leans back in the tub, closing her eyes as well.
"Thank you, Lily."
"Mhmm." She is suddenly very tired, but she knows that they have more to say to each other.
"What have you been doing in the three months since we left school?" he asks sharply. She opens her eyes and finds him staring at her, an inquisitive look resting on his handsome face. She sighs deeply before answering.
"I've been working for a florist in Diagon Alley, to save up money for Healer training." She feels a blush rising in her cheeks; he has been fighting dark wizards while she has been arranging and delivering magical plants and flowers.
He stares at her. "Do you like working there?"
She is surprised by this question. Before they had broken up he had pestered her to apply to the Healer program at St Mungo's, saying he could cover the initial payments while she saved up some money, or even pay for all of it if she would let him. She half expected him to once again put forward this offer.
"It's…alright, I suppose," she says flatly. "It pays the bills."
"I think you should work for the Order," he blurts. "We need you. You're the best potion-maker any of us know, Lily. It's taking weeks for some of us to recuperate from our injuries, and having you would be so incredibly helpful."
She closes her eyes so that she won't have to look at him when she speaks.
"God, I am such a coward. So much for Gryffindor courage, huh?"
"Lily, what—"
"I'm afraid, James," she says, opening her eyes to face him.
He laughs mirthlessly. "We're all afraid. Every single one of us."
"If I do this, if I agree to join," she says shakily, "I can't just stay in hiding, making potions. I need to fight as well. And I know that you're going to want to stop me from doing that… that you're going to want to protect me. But after seeing you tonight, and everything that's happened, I know that this is what I need to do." She looks him squarely in the eye, her jaw set and her green eyes ablaze with determination. To her surprise, James grins back at her. There is love and pride in his gaze.
"I love you so damn much," he says, and lunges forward to kiss her before she can say anything. He pulls his lips away from hers after a moment and she is barely able to stifle a yawn. He presses a kiss to her forehead.
"Would you like to go to bed?" he asks softly.
She smiles and nods.
They towel off and minutes later are wrapped in the soft comforter of James's bed, their naked bodies entwined with one another, her head resting on his chest. She thinks that she will sleep in late, lingering in the warmth of his embrace.
As Lily drifts off to sleep she does not focus on how afraid she is, of both dying and of James dying. She pushes those thoughts to the back of her mind, only allowing them to reemerge sometime later, when curses are flying past her and she is unaware of James's location in the heat of battle. She does not think about the inevitable conversation they would have to have in the morning about the state of their relationship. She does not dwell on the danger that they are both in. She does not even think about tomorrow. She loves him, and for now, as she listens to his breathing, that is more than enough.