Hey, everyone! This is a set of drabbles written by me and Zayz for Jily October. If you're following us on Tumblr (I'm at suchastart and Zayz is at girlwiththefeels), you've seen these already, but we also want to collect them here. They'll be posted every so often in sets of three. If you've got any prompts that you want to see from either of us, head over there and drop some into our ask boxes. Enjoy! :)
L/J: 1, Bubbles (Mina)
James, lying on the couch in front of the common room fire, rests his head in Lily's lap. She cards her fingers through his hair, over and over, a repetition that soothes him into a hazy, warm half-sleep. It's times like these that he can't believe this is his life now, that he is actually allowed to rest his head against her whenever he wants.
"Lily," he says, nudging her stomach with his nose. "Hey, Lil. Look."
When she pulls her book away and looks down, he licks his lips and blows an impressive spit bubble. It holds for a long few seconds before the disgusted frown on Lily's face causes James to laugh and the bubble to rupture.
"James," she sighs. She shakes her head and returns to her book, her other hand leaving the nest of his hair. He makes a pitiful whine and buries his face in her jumper, keeping it there even when she exhales and returns her free hand to his head. "You are such a child," she tells him, and though he can't see it, he can hear her smile in her voice.
L/J: 2, Seven (Zayz)
The last party of the seventh year is in full swing - the drinks spilling, the music blaring, the drunk teenagers swaying and dancing and laughing and screaming, like this night is the last of its kind. Which, truthfully, it sort of is.
Remus has been persuaded to dance by Mary Macdonald, and Peter is by the punch, rehydrating before rejoining his date. Sirius is, as usual, dancing with several girls at once, the entire group in various degrees of intoxication. And James is with Lily, twirling her around and around and around, the both of them dizzy and giggling, high on the punch and the lights and the song and on their lives, their youth, the brightness and euphoria of this moment. She releases a scream of pure mirth, throws her head back, exposing the pale expanse of her neck, her red hair streaming down her back.
"I can't believe this is going to be over soon," she tells him, as he pulls her in close. Their hearts are beating wildly in their chests; their hands are all sweaty and she can feel his breathing, hot and fast, against her ear.
"I know," he says. "Can you imagine? Seventh year, already over. I swear, we were on the train for the first time last week."
She chuckles, but it's more wistful than amused. "It doesn't feel real."
"It was." Though the music is still fast, he slows down to a stop, just holds her there, the weight of her body so fitting and comfortable inside his arms. Even now, months after they started dating, he still can't quite get used to this. How they get to really be in each other's lives now.
"This was our year," he whispers in her ear. "Number seven."
But to his surprise, she gives him a strange look. "What do you mean, was our year? Every year is going to be our year."
She smiles her bright smile, the one that could eclipse the sun if it so desired, and leaps on top of him romantic-comedy style, her sparkly purple dress hitching up against her legs, which wrap around his waist. He stumbles slightly under her, but he holds up straight. And he kisses her like time is irrelevant, and nothing will end, and this moment will carry them through the rest of their lives.
L/J: 3, Sunflowers (Mina)
It is fifth year and he is finally—finally—the seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Sure, it's mostly because Fredrickssen, the first string, is out on academic probation, but James is still good, and he wants to prove it. They start by throwing coins around the pitch, making him distinguish at various distances between silver and gold. Eventually they start timing him, and he gets better and better.
And then, he starts noticing everything.
The attention to detail he's supposed to apply to Quidditch is used to tell if Remus has extra lines creasing his forehead after a rough night under the moon, or if Peter is frowning too hard at his homework and is too proud to ask for help, or if Sirius lapses into his moods too often.
He also notices Lily. Like, everywhere. He spots her red hair in the hallway like a glint of gold on the pitch, calling his immediate attention. He notices the little flyaways at the nape of her neck when she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. He sees the way she picks the pecans off of her muffins at breakfast, piling them into a neat pile for Dorcas, who puts the extra into her oatmeal. As he's lying on the common room floor, playing cards with Peter, he gets a view of Lily's feet as she walks by, small and bare and white. On one of her toenails she's painted a sunflower, and he watches it, the tiny yellow leaves, as she walks further and further away from him.
Peter cuffs him on the arm. "Oi, James! Your turn, mate."
"Yeah, sure, fine," James says, turning back to the card game. It takes a minute to remember what they are playing. He is fifteen and in love and in everything, and especially in her, he sees gold.