For Peggy, as a 2013 Jily Secret Santa present!
It was a late Thursday evening, a fateful day out of three hundred and sixty five others, past the common hour of bedtimes. A blanket of luminous stars covered the indefinite sky above Hogwarts, with the pale moon casting a soft light upon the grounds. Somewhere in the enchanting castle, hidden away from the prying eyes of muggles, there lay the sleeping souls of students and professors alike. They slept in their dormitories, stirring this way and that, with restless dreams dancing beneath their eyelids.
Deep in the heart of the castle, there lay a boy, wide awake. He stared up at the scarlet curtains of his dormitory bed, unable to fathom his unruly mind to fall asleep. Endless possibilities and thoughts swam around in his head, making it impossible for his conscience to drift off.
"Bloody hell Prongs," the boy in question murmured to himself. "Now is not the time to be getting all philosophical."
The boy blew out a frustrated sigh and sat up, running his hand through the dark and unkempt hair he was so blessedly born with. Reaching over for his rimmed glasses, he adjusted them onto his face, and carefully crept past the deep snores reverberating from his roommates. Once he was safely outside of his dorm, he climbed down the marble steps, until he had reached the welcome sight of the common room.
Aged, but stable furniture was scattered across the room. Forgotten books and scarves sat on the various tables, giving the place a casual feel. The boy's eyes scanned the room, stopping in surprise when they saw a pale figure curled by the fireplace.
"Lily?" He asked.
She jumped in surprise, and turned around to see who it was. Despite the distance between them, he could still so clearly see her emerald eyes widen, as her auburn hair spilled past her shoulders. When she recognized who the voice had come from, she smiled, and unknowingly to him, her heart sped a little faster.
"Evening there Potter. Or should I say morning?" She teased with a soft voice.
He strolled towards her, feeling the heat of the fireplace as he neared. "What're you doing up so late?"
Her smile widened ever so slightly. "The question is mutual."
He scratched the back of his neck. "I couldn't really sleep," he sheepishly replied.
She stared up at him in careful thought, the firelight causing specks of gold to dance unto her sea green orbs. Finally, she patted her hand on the carpet beside her. "Well then, come on and join the party."
He sat beside her, very aware of the close proximity of her body to his. The heat of the hearth and crackling blaze of the fire warmed him instantaneously. At least, James Potter tried to convince himself that it was the fire, and not the object of his affections, that made him feel all warm, all alert and dizzy with a sense of euphoria.
They sat without talk for a few moments- neither of them thinking about the passing time, whether it was a handful of seconds or a smattering of minutes. They each sat and brewed in their thoughts.
James Potter tried to ignore his hidden feelings, his mind advising him to move on and accept the fact that they were now mates- and wonderfully so- while his heart refused with every aching beat and second that passed.
Bloody hell Evans- even after seven years of an endless crush, I can't get over you.
But James Potter was very blind to the secret thoughts of Lily Evans.
She was curled up in the common room, unable to find any sleep, when he had wandered through. She had tried to keep her heart from jumping around in excitement, childishly afraid that he could hear its loud beating from across the room. She had teased him, and she had drunk in the sight of him, with his disheveled hair that she so strongly wanted to run her hands through.
It figures, she thought with a deep sigh. I start to fall for you right when you get over me.
They remained in comfortable silence, lost in amorphous thought, until Lily decided to speak.
"Congratulations on your Quidditch win, by the way," she said, her voice soft and laced with a hint of pride.
He chuckled and turned to face her. "Thanks. Had fun at the afterparty?"
She nodded. "Yeah, it was alright. You weren't there though- how come?"
She noticed I was gone?
James shook his head and looked down sheepishly. "It just didn't seem right."
"What?"
"You know."
Lily reached over and gave his shoulder a light flick. "No, I really don't. How come you've been so down lately? What's eating you?"
The question took him by surprise.
She's your mate, of course she's going to worry about your sudden mood plummet.
"It just doesn't seem right to be celebrating with the war out there, with people dying. I mean, everything that I ever thought mattered- quidditch and friends and school.. they just seem so pointless. They're just so stupid and they don't make a difference because there are people out there fighting and just-"
"Hey," she said softly, cutting him off. "Those things are not stupid."
He gave a light snort.
"They're not," she firmly repeated. "James, you don't have to beat yourself up over what's going on out there. You can't just jump into the middle of the war and start battling your way through."
James ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, why not? I don't understand Dumbledore- we've learned enough from our classes. What's the point of strategizing on what best way to get the quaffle through the hoop, or planning the next yule ball, when we could be out there actually doing something? What's the point?"
He stared at her, waiting for her to say something- to scold him, or to argue with him, maybe even reason with him.
For some reason, Lily Evans wanted to cry. To tell him everything that she felt and to let him see that there was more to their lives than the war.
So she did.
"James, that war doesn't control us. It doesn't shape who we are- Voldemort doesn't shape who we are. This war is happening because he wants there to be no more love, or happiness, or those small things that make our lives so memorable." She yearned for him to understand her. "So don't let him win, James. Not caring anymore about school, or quidditch, even locking yourself away from your friends- that's giving up."
"Then how do we win?" He whispered.
"By fighting him with the things he doesn't have- happy memories, friends... love."
James Potter stared at the small auburn girl sitting beside him, so incredibly strong and beautiful. There was something about her, from the first time they met, that had inexplicably drawn him in. At first, it was the challenge. Then, as he grew older, it was her beauty. It had grown bigger than that though- admiration for her morals and qualities. The way she stuck up for her friends, with a fierce loyalty. The way she was dedicated to her studies and work, and yet never failed to have a smile on her face and a laid-back attitude, filled with teasing and jokes, when needed. She was strong, and she was brave. She was beautiful and smart and understanding.
The truth was, in James Potter's opinion, there wasn't a single word out there that could describe Lily Evans as a whole. No word, no combinations of ordinary letters could encompass her exuberant energy.
And suddenly, all those restless thoughts that had kept him awake no longer bothered him so much.
Nothing like a Lily Evans pep talk to cheer you up.
"Or, you know, maybe you're just having a mid-life crisis," she suddenly said.
James cracked a smile and reached over to ruffle her hair. "Watch it there, Evans. I'm not even old. I'm a young and handsome bloke, for your information!"
"Pshh, you just keep thinking that."
He pretended to be offended, putting his hand over his heart and giving a dramatic gasp. Lily giggled a little, and reached over to flick his shoulder once again.
Their comfortable silence ensued as they stared at the dancing flames in front of them.
"How are you dealing with all that conflict going on out there?" James asked her.
"I told you- doing the best I can... happy memories, friends, being in love..."
Those last words intrigued James Potter more than he'd care to admit. Being in love?
Oh bugger, Lily thought. That slipped out. Oh buggerbuggerbugger.
"Uh," she stammered. "I mean just love. You know, in general."
James raised an eyebrow.
"Loving other people. Like your friends and stuff. And people. And things. And yeah."
He squinted at her.
"I didn't mean in love with somebody. Or well maybe- oh bugger."
He tilted his head and stared at her.
"I mean, how can you even be in love with somebody who doesn't like you back?" She stammered on. "That's ridiculous- that's setting it up for doomed failure, that's what it is."
He gaped at the ginger that sat rambling in front of him.
"Yeah, okay, nice conversation we had- it was a pleasure. Glad you're feeling better. I think I'm going to go sleep now- ah yes, good old sleep. Sleep is nice, eh? Sleep is-"
James Potter leaned forwards and kissed her. He felt her gasp of surprise against his lips, and then felt her hands move to his hair and run through it, and he didn't ever want to stop.
When they broke apart, his hair was rumpled and his glasses askew. Lily's face was flushed, and her emerald green eyes were fixated on his.
Bloody hell.
"I'm so glad you got that signal," she finally managed to say.
Bloody hell.
"You're smarter than you look, Potter."
Bloody hell.
"Because that would have been embarassing if you didn't get it, I mean-"
"Lily," he interrupted. "Shut up."
And they were at it again.
It was a late Thursday evening. All throughout the castle of Hogwarts slept professors and students alike, each one dreaming of infinite possibilities. The hallways were dark, the classrooms empty.
If you'd ask anybody why that specific day was special, they would shrug and say that it wasn't. It was a normal day, just like the three hundred and sixty five others.
But deep in the Gryffindor common room, safely cocooned from the dangers of the outside world, there sat a boy and a girl. They shared their first kiss on that night, and suddenly their fates were perpetually entwined.