disclaimer: i own nothing you recognize

happy holidays, jenny! i hope you like this! and i love you :)

It is nighttime when she realizes where she is. She hadn't been sleeping, but she'd forgotten to remember where she had been sitting, what she had been doing, when the first stars started twinkling and evening breezes swept the scene. She is in a courtyard, and has been for the past couple of hours, a book with a long-forgotten title at her side, finished ages ago, discarded in favor of her fluttering thoughts.

Lily lifts her head. Moonshine glitters above her, sparking on her bare skin. What had made her think it was a good idea to go sit in a courtyard in a nightdress, again? It may be almost summer, but she's still in Scotland, in the mountains, and outside of Hogwarts' warm and comforting walls. Possibly the book – and she presumes it was good – had muddled her common sense.

Oh, right. She'd been reading a book. She glances at it, but the letters blur. It's been so long since she looked at something properly, she finds she can't even read it. Not that she wants to. She'd rather stay in her little bubble of thoughts without any outside influences.

What had she been thinking of?

She leans her head against the trunk of the strong oak tree that's been providing her shade since she came out here and closes her eyes. Everything seems rather dark, though the sun has only just set and the moon and stars are as bright as ever. But there are no cheerful noises of students, laughter and chatter, no birds chirping or even crickets.

There's always crickets. What happened?

"Lily?" asks a voice, but she's far too disoriented to place it properly. All she knows is that it's male and semi-familiar and sweetly concerned. "Lily? Evans? Are you ignoring me? Did I do something or – wait, are you all right? Lily?"

A hand is suddenly warm on the bare skin of her arm and she jumps, green eyes snapping open to find an anxious looking James Potter standing above her. His hair is ridiculously tangled and messy, even for him, and his eyes are bright with concern behind his glasses.

His tie is loose, she notices absently. How'd that happen?

"Are you all right?" James kneels down so that they're face to face. "You seem…out of it. Did something happen?"

"James," Lily manages, her voice soft but not feeble. "What's the name of the book I was reading?"

Slightly confused, James peers over her at the book lying on her other side. "Um, I can't quite make it out. Something about – a war? And Grindelwald. Were you reading about the last war, Lily?"

Her name is light and gentle on his tongue. She rather likes it, she decides.

"Grindelwald," she repeats. "Right. And I wanted to read it because…" It takes her a moment of wracking her brains for the answer, which appears in a flash of remembrance. "I was scared."

James settles in properly beside her, his back to the tree as well. "Scared of what, Lily?" he asks softly, and somehow his hand worms its way into her open palm and closes, squeezing gently, sending a burst of warmth into her shivering body.

The winds are picking up.

"The war," she answers quietly, though she's more talking to herself than to James. "The coming war, with – with Voldemort." James startles, but she keeps going, her words gaining strength and conviction. "Because I'm a muggle-born and he's targeted me and my kind. And I – I figured, I should know what I was dealing with. What I'll be fighting against. The darkest magic ever known to man. So, I went to the library to research."

"And you found that book," James finishes, making her start out of her reverie. She'd almost forgotten he was there; the only reminder was his steady breathing and his warmth against her side. "What did it say, Lily?"

He seems to like saying her name almost as much as she enjoys hearing it. Involuntarily, her hand shifts to rest on his leg.

Lily laughs dryly, then, remembering what the book had said. "There's no hope," and her words linger. James remains silent, his fingers twisting in hers, and so does she, watching as the moon drifts higher in the sky, as tree leaves rustle in the shadows, as the world around them slowly falls asleep.

Then, James speaks. "That's not true." His fingers close properly around hers again and squeeze, once, twice, thrice. That's. Not. True.

Lily doesn't say anything, but her doubt is palatable in the air, the winds catching it and swirling around until the courtyard is full of there's no hope and you're wrong and we don't stand a chance and he will kill us all, just like that damned book.

"It will never be true," James continues finally, tilting his head to look at her, "as long as there are people like you and me to fight him."

"And what makes us so special?" she demands, the panic of the looming war hitting her like a bullet in the chest. Her fingers press, nails and all, into the palm of his hand, but he doesn't even flinch. "We're just kids, James! What can we possibly do against the darkest Dark Lord to ever live?"

Her words ring of despair, hopelessness, loss, ring in the open air, in the dancing breezes and shimmering stars. They ring loudly, and alone. James doesn't speak until her breathing is even once more.

"We can fight," he tells her, and his free hand catches an auburn strand of her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear as she shivers, partly from the cold and partly from his touch. "We can fight, and we can win because we have one thing Voldemort doesn't, and never can."

"Oh, yeah?" Lily's free hand curls around a clump of grass, twisting the blades out of shape. But her heart is still lightening as she listens, and it may be because of his voice or his proximity or his warmth, or maybe it's just James, and maybe he's right. "What's that?"

She's not looking at him, but she can still see the smile that stretches across his face.

"This is going to sound cheesy," he warns her.

"I like cheese. Especially melted," she informs him.

James chuckles. "Lily… we have something worth fighting for. Our lives, each other, and the future we deserve. Voldemort – he doesn't stand a chance."

Silence drifts in the atmosphere. Lily finally lifts her head to look at him, butterflies bubbling inside her at the sight of his goofy grin and dancing hazel eyes and stupidly messy hair and what is she even thinking, he's James Potter.

But he believes in her. And that's more than enough.

"You're right," she says finally, loosening her grip on his hand. "That was cheesy."

James snorts with laughter and nudges her shoulder with his. "At least it wasn't melted."

"True," she concedes. "And… you'll fight, then? When we graduate? You'll fight against him?"

"With all my heart," he promises. "And you?"

"I'll be right there next to you," she tells him, a smile lighting her face. "But for now, we should get inside."

"Right," James says, scrambling to his feet and offering her a hand up. "Because it is well past curfew, Miss Head Girl."

Lily giggles and allows him to help her up. His hands stay entwined with hers long after she's stood up. "Shut up, I had a good reason," she says primly. "Oh, and James?"

He'd moved to start walking, but he stops at her words and turns to face her again. "Yeah, Lily?"

She smiles, leaning in until she can smell his woodsy cologne and spearmint toothpaste. "Thanks." Before she can talk herself out of it, she tilts her head and presses her lips against his cheek, quick and gentle. James stands very still, even after she's drawn away, seemingly stunned into silence.

"Let's go," she tells him with a smile, tugging on his hand and beginning to walk.

"Um," he says eloquently. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

His free hand drifts up to his cheek, lingering on the spot she had kissed even as they walk back to Hogwarts. Lily pretends not to notice.

a/n: well, that was totally not what i had originally planned for this, but i hope you guys liked it, anyway! please review if you did; it would make my day!

and no favorites without reviewing first, please and thank you.