(May, Seventh Year)
A warm breeze tangles through her long crimson hair and she smiles, a smile of utter contentment, a smile directed at the boy sitting next to her in the tall grass. She drinks in the image of this boy, staring at his thick dark hair and thin-framed glasses. Her eyes reach his lips and he is smiling right back at her (glorious and bright and radiant in the sunlight), and because Lily Evans has always been reasonable, she does the most reasonable thing she can think of and kisses him.
His hands are electric, one cupping her face and one playing with the hem of her skirt. He relishes the feeling of the warm May air against his skin, relishes the feeling of her warm skin against his own. He wishes to always make her feel this way— happy and alive and young and free. As she wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him to the ground, he silently prays that nothing will ever take her away from him. She lies on top of him, the red of her hair contrasting with the blue water of the lake that they lie near, and because James Potter has always been passionate, he does the most sensibly passionate thing he can think of and breathlessly speaks, "Will you marry me, Lily?"
(September, Sixth Year)
She feels his eyes on her as she moves about the library shelves, looking for a specific book on healing potions. She wills herself to not turn around, to not give him any of her attention (she usually fails miserably at this). She fails (again). She whips around and whispers, "Why are you staring at me?" There is no malice in her voice as there would have been a just a few months ago, only slight irritation. His eyes bore into hers and he smiles. Not one of those classic James Potter haughty smirks, but a genuine smile that shines and glows and catches her completely off guard.
"I like looking at you," he replies simply. This does not bother her like it would have in the past. His tone is barely even flirtatious. It is honest and filled with such sincerity that for the first time Lily actually believes that he is telling the truth about his feelings for her.
(December, Sixth Year)
"Oi! Evans! Lily, wait up!"
Lily stops in the middle of the corridor and turns around to face a handsome boy with long dark hair and grey eyes.
"What is it, Sirius?"
Sirius Black smiles broadly at her, pleased that she has responded to him. He catches up to her and asks, "So you decided to stay at the castle for the winter holiday this year?" She nods.
He looks around at the holly decorating the corridor and says "Nothing like Hogwarts at Christmas time." She smiles in agreement.
"Do you need something, or did you just want to stand about and sing a few carols with me?" she asks with amusement.
"As delightful as that sounds, I actually came inside to get you for a snowball fight. James, Peter, Alice, and Frank are all down by the lake. We need you for the teams to be even. Plus," he adds, a devious smile on his lips and a glint of mirth in his eyes, "James begged me to come get you."
Lily raises her eyebrows. "If he wants me down there so badly why didn't he come ask me himself?" she asks, not knowing why she is annoyed by this.
Sirius shakes his head and wraps an arm across Lily's shoulders. "The poor bloke is shy, you see," he explains.
"Shy?" she sputters incredulously. "Since when is James Potter shy?"
"Ah Lily, for such a smart girl you can be so naïve." Sirius continues, "When a bloke is rejected by the girl he's in love with as many times as you've rejected James, he becomes a bit shy around her." He winks at her. "C'mon. It'll be loads of fun."
Lily stares at him, taken aback by his words, for surely James bloody Potter could not actually be in love with her. Despite the shock of Sirius's words, Lily agrees to his proposition and heads down to the grounds with him.
(February, Sixth Year)
She sips at the cherry wine that fills the glass in her hand and stares at the golden flames that fill the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room.
Her gaze travels to the boy sitting on the couch next to her, the reflection of the flames dancing on the lenses of his glasses.
"How did you know that cherry wine is my favorite?" she asks.
"You mentioned it a few months ago," James replies, looking at her fondly, longing to brush a lock of stray hair away from her face (but keeping his hands by his sides instead).
"Thanks," she says, and she is suddenly aware that this is the first time she has spent a prolonged amount of time alone with him, and she is surprised to find that she likes it very much.
(August, the summer before Seventh Year)
They stand on his large front porch in the sticky late summer heat, knowing that the night is over but neither of them wanting it to end just yet.
"Thanks for inviting me, Lily," James says (dressed in muggle dress shirt, pants, and tie), and there is happiness and gratitude in his voice.
"Well I figured I needed a good-looking date if I was going to show up at my sister's wedding," she says, smiling up at his hazel eyes. She wears a simple yellow dress, and he thinks she's the prettiest damn thing he's ever seen.
He laughs. "I'm honored." He pauses, staring at her as if deciding whether or not he wants to say what is going through his mind. And because he is James Potter, who rarely holds back his feelings, he does tell her what he is thinking in that moment. "I really enjoyed being with you. And being around your family. I just— I had a lot of fun with you tonight and I hope you feel the same way, because I really, really like you, Lil," he says this last part rather quickly, looking at her somewhat sheepishly while running a hand through his hair, and Lily is struck by how damn vulnerable he is around her, opening up his heart and letting his soul pour out and pool at her feet.
She takes his hands in her own. "I really like you too, James." She laughs, "Why else would I have Apparated to your house with you to say goodnight?"
He is positively beaming and his heart is soaring, and because James has always lived for moments of beauty, he does the only thing he can think of and kisses the beautiful girl standing in front of him.
(November, Seventh Year)
He lies in his bed, grief and sadness and sheer pain washing over him, crashing over him in waves that knock the wind out of him and pound into his skull. He looks around at the walls of his childhood bedroom, memories of his parents reading him bedtime stories when he was little coming to the forefront of his mind. He can't decide which is worse: thinking about his parents when they were alive, or thinking about their funeral, which he and Lily and the Marauders had attended mere hours ago. Tears run down his cheeks, and he takes off his glasses to quickly wipe them away.
There is a soft knock at his bedroom door.
"James?" calls Lily's voice from the other side of the door. She pushes the door open, two mugs of tea in her hands. "I made you tea—" her voice trails off when she sees that he is crying. She has never seen him cry before (he had been silent at the funeral, his face seemingly made of stone) and she rushes to him immediately, setting the tea on his nightstand and holding him in her arms as if he is a small child.
After a while he pulls away from her. His face is dry but his eyes are still red.
She lies with him in his bed, his arms around her, and after a while he speaks.
"I thought I was ready, with them being in St. Mungo's for such a long time. I just— fucking hell— I didn't think it would be this hard. I can't— I can't believe they're gone. I haven't got a family anymore."
She looks up at him. "You still have me, James. I can be your family."
He smiles sadly at her and pulls her closer to him.
"I love you," he murmurs in to her hair, and in that moment he feels as though love is the only star shining in a dark sky, a sky streaked with death and sadness.
"I love you too, James."
(March, Seventh Year)
"My God, Evans," he says as he rolls onto his back, gasping for breath.
She curls up beside him (in all her naked glory) and giggles. He pulls a cigarette out of his nightstand drawer and lights it with his wand. He takes a long draw, one arm behind his head, and she erupts in to a fit of laughter.
"Really, love? The clichéd 'smoking a fag after sex' bit?"
He laughs with her. "Hey, after a shag like that, I bloody well need it." He passes her the cigarette and she inhales.
"Isn't having our own Head dorms just wonderful?" she asks.
"Absolutely brilliant," he agrees, and he turns toward her to kiss her firmly on the mouth.
He puts out the cigarette and props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her. He is enraptured with every line, curve, blemish, and freckle of her body. He slowly traces circles on her stomach and breasts with his finger as she watches him.
"God, you're beautiful," he sighs, unable to fully comprehend the sheer amount of love he feels for her in that moment (in all moments). She smiles (so radiant and true and illuminated) and kisses him, savoring the feeling of his soft, soft lips against her own and the taste of his mouth and tongue.
He pulls away from her and whispers "Promise me you'll stay with me forever."
She cups his face in her hands, her green eyes trying desperately to transmit the love in her heart.
"I promise."
(May, Seventh Year)
Lily looks down at him, taken aback by the words that have just passed over James's lips.
And she knows that they are eighteen years old and haven't even left school yet, and she knows that she is probably acting irresponsibly but she doesn't care; there is a war (death surrounds them) and now (more than ever) is the time to love (before everything is burnt away).
Her eyes widen and she smiles (bright and shining and radiant) at him, at his expectant face and bright eyes.
"Of course I'll marry you."
The warm wind whips around them and for a moment there is no war or death; for now there is only James and Lily, the lake, and the wind.