Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. that are recognizable from
the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling, not to me. I am not
getting any money from this or taking any credit.
Lily woke up early. She always woke up before James did lately. It was because of all the paperwork she had to do nowadays. Lord Voldemort had surfaced ten years ago. Within the last three years, his power had grown stronger and his forces more terrifying. Of course, the Ministry was going haywire. The Order was working nonstop against him, but they were hopelessly outnumbered, the lot of them. Still, there was everything that they could try to do, and they would try.
It was four o' clock. She had two hours before James woke up. She could get a lot of paperwork done in two hours. Not nearly enough, but every bit helped.
She grabbed a stack out of her desk drawer. She grabbed a quill as well. Maureen Epheder, died two weeks ago, due to--
"Lily."
James was awake. Lily sighed. Her chances of getting work done were shot.
"What?"
"Go to sleep."
Lily swiveled in her chair and stared at him. "Don't tell me what to do, James. I'm under pressure here. You know that. Stop bugging me constantly."
He crossed the room to stare at her. "We are all under pressure," he reminded her. "And that's no fault of mine, so don't try to put the blame on--"
"I'm sorry," Lily said. "It's just--so much--and I feel--so tired. I need to work--I need to get things done--"
James smiled and took her hand. "Lily."
"If I could just get all this paperwork finished, I could get things done, I could go to work earlier--"
"Lily."
"I could get more investigation done, stop more raids, I could do so much more to help the Order, I could--"
"Lily!"
She looked up at James. "Sorry again. I'm rambling."
"You need a drink."
"James, it's four o' clock in the morning. Besides, I don't even drink much alcohol, I normally--"
"Fine, whatever. Then we'll drink orange juice."
She stared at him. "James, you still drink alcohol. You don't have to resort to orange juice just because of me."
He smiled. "Nah, it's fine. Orange juice has calcium."
"Wine can be good for you," Lily countered.
"Okay, then. We'll be drinking wine."
Lily gaped at him. "How can you always end up twisting everything around so that you always get what you want?"
James winked at her. "It's talent." Lily snorted. "Well, I mean, come on, Lily. You do always have to initiate a fight for everything. It's easy." He left the study and started walking down the hall.
"I do not have to initiate a fight about everything!" Lily said indignantly, following him to the kitchen."
"Okay, Lily."
"Don't say that! You know I'm right."
"Yep."
"Don't try to fight me, James."
"'Okay, Lily," he said unconcernedly. He was busy pouring two glasses of wine.
"Stop patronizing me! You always--" her words were cut off. James had shoved a glass of wine to her lips. She choked and spluttered. "What was that for?" she asked.
"Two things. One, so you could drink your drink--is that not the purpose of a drink? That and to get drunk, but you need to drink to get drunk; I suppose it's a cause and effect type thing--and two, so you'd shut up." Lily rolled her eyes at the ceiling. James winked at her and raised his glass.
"Cheers, Lily dear."
Glaring at him, she raised her glass as well. "Cheers, you great prat." She downed the glass. James took a polite sip.
"I don't know why you're so hostile, Lily dear." She was just about to retort with some witty and biting remark, but she bit her lip. "Actually," she said softly, "I don't know either."
James, who had been in the middle of another sip, spluttered. He'd been joking.
"I guess it's all the pressure," she said, staring at the floor. James nodded uncomfortably. "There's just so much--" she broke off, tears in her eyes. James looked at her just in time to see her falling into his arms.
James sighed and patted her back. This was the third nervous breakdown she'd had this year. Didn't she know how much he hated serious moments?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I really am. I know how much you hate serious stuff.
James paused. He'd been wrong. He didn't hate serious stuff. He was made for serious stuff. He was made for dealing with pressure, with terror, with bad people and circumstances. He simply countered it all with jokes and smiles.
"It's all right, Lily. You just need a drink, that's all."
"James, stop trying to get me drunk at four o' clock in the morning," she said, but a smile cracked her face.
James brushed a few tears off her cheek. "All right, then. I'll make some food."
Lily shook her head, exasperated. "James, dear, you can't cook."
"I can make eggs. And toast," James corrected her.
"Last time you made eggs, you put them on the frying pan still in their shells, you fool."
"The great thing about fools is that they can learn. This time, the eggs will be shell-less, I promise. Now go shower and get ready for work. I'll do this stuff.
Lily smiled. This was why she loved James--he hated cooking. He was doing this for her. As a matter of fact, most of the stuff he did was for her. She kissed his neck and left the kitchen.
Lily woke up early. She always woke up before James did lately. It was because of all the paperwork she had to do nowadays. Lord Voldemort had surfaced ten years ago. Within the last three years, his power had grown stronger and his forces more terrifying. Of course, the Ministry was going haywire. The Order was working nonstop against him, but they were hopelessly outnumbered, the lot of them. Still, there was everything that they could try to do, and they would try.
It was four o' clock. She had two hours before James woke up. She could get a lot of paperwork done in two hours. Not nearly enough, but every bit helped.
She grabbed a stack out of her desk drawer. She grabbed a quill as well. Maureen Epheder, died two weeks ago, due to--
"Lily."
James was awake. Lily sighed. Her chances of getting work done were shot.
"What?"
"Go to sleep."
Lily swiveled in her chair and stared at him. "Don't tell me what to do, James. I'm under pressure here. You know that. Stop bugging me constantly."
He crossed the room to stare at her. "We are all under pressure," he reminded her. "And that's no fault of mine, so don't try to put the blame on--"
"I'm sorry," Lily said. "It's just--so much--and I feel--so tired. I need to work--I need to get things done--"
James smiled and took her hand. "Lily."
"If I could just get all this paperwork finished, I could get things done, I could go to work earlier--"
"Lily."
"I could get more investigation done, stop more raids, I could do so much more to help the Order, I could--"
"Lily!"
She looked up at James. "Sorry again. I'm rambling."
"You need a drink."
"James, it's four o' clock in the morning. Besides, I don't even drink much alcohol, I normally--"
"Fine, whatever. Then we'll drink orange juice."
She stared at him. "James, you still drink alcohol. You don't have to resort to orange juice just because of me."
He smiled. "Nah, it's fine. Orange juice has calcium."
"Wine can be good for you," Lily countered.
"Okay, then. We'll be drinking wine."
Lily gaped at him. "How can you always end up twisting everything around so that you always get what you want?"
James winked at her. "It's talent." Lily snorted. "Well, I mean, come on, Lily. You do always have to initiate a fight for everything. It's easy." He left the study and started walking down the hall.
"I do not have to initiate a fight about everything!" Lily said indignantly, following him to the kitchen."
"Okay, Lily."
"Don't say that! You know I'm right."
"Yep."
"Don't try to fight me, James."
"'Okay, Lily," he said unconcernedly. He was busy pouring two glasses of wine.
"Stop patronizing me! You always--" her words were cut off. James had shoved a glass of wine to her lips. She choked and spluttered. "What was that for?" she asked.
"Two things. One, so you could drink your drink--is that not the purpose of a drink? That and to get drunk, but you need to drink to get drunk; I suppose it's a cause and effect type thing--and two, so you'd shut up." Lily rolled her eyes at the ceiling. James winked at her and raised his glass.
"Cheers, Lily dear."
Glaring at him, she raised her glass as well. "Cheers, you great prat." She downed the glass. James took a polite sip.
"I don't know why you're so hostile, Lily dear." She was just about to retort with some witty and biting remark, but she bit her lip. "Actually," she said softly, "I don't know either."
James, who had been in the middle of another sip, spluttered. He'd been joking.
"I guess it's all the pressure," she said, staring at the floor. James nodded uncomfortably. "There's just so much--" she broke off, tears in her eyes. James looked at her just in time to see her falling into his arms.
James sighed and patted her back. This was the third nervous breakdown she'd had this year. Didn't she know how much he hated serious moments?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I really am. I know how much you hate serious stuff.
James paused. He'd been wrong. He didn't hate serious stuff. He was made for serious stuff. He was made for dealing with pressure, with terror, with bad people and circumstances. He simply countered it all with jokes and smiles.
"It's all right, Lily. You just need a drink, that's all."
"James, stop trying to get me drunk at four o' clock in the morning," she said, but a smile cracked her face.
James brushed a few tears off her cheek. "All right, then. I'll make some food."
Lily shook her head, exasperated. "James, dear, you can't cook."
"I can make eggs. And toast," James corrected her.
"Last time you made eggs, you put them on the frying pan still in their shells, you fool."
"The great thing about fools is that they can learn. This time, the eggs will be shell-less, I promise. Now go shower and get ready for work. I'll do this stuff.
Lily smiled. This was why she loved James--he hated cooking. He was doing this for her. As a matter of fact, most of the stuff he did was for her. She kissed his neck and left the kitchen.