Pairing: Lily/James
First part in a short series of oneshots. I should probably mention that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes.
In This Very Moment
He is stroking her hair. And she enjoys it. It feels very relaxing, she muses in her thoughts, and half asleep she lies with her head in James' lap. Her normally piercing eyes are closed and her thoughts drowsy. Himself, James is holding a book with one hand and playing with her hair with the other. She, Lily, believes him to be reading, but really, he doesn't. He hasn't ever since she came to lie down curled up into him with a blanket covering half of her. Instead he is watching her. Just looking. Feeling how soft she is. Studying her facial features, even though he knows them off hands by now, and how relaxed she is in this very moment. Almost vulnerable. It isn't often he gets the opportunity to see her this way, despite the very close relationship they now have.
He still can't believe it. Not quite. Not always. That she actually is his. He knows she would contradict those words with all that is in her and one hell of a temper, but that is not the way he means it. He doesn't own her or anything, that's not what it is about. She is simply his. There is a very fine difference in that concept, one she wouldn't be able to fully grasp. But that's okay, he thinks. That thought in particular is one he doesn't have to share with her. Not now. Not when she finally is his.
Without special momentum he puts away his book on the table next to the couch. He moves his hand, the one that earlier caressed her red curls, and places it to rest softly on her abdomen. The other one he places on the right hands earlier
position. Her hair.
He enjoys incredibly much this simple being-ness of today. Enjoying the wonder in merely sitting for a full day without having to trouble himself over anything. No studies or younger students wanting his attention, no crazy – although hilarious – ideas from Sirius. Because even though he loves his best friend unconditionally, also this is amazing. And perhaps the best of all: not one drip of worry caused by the rising Voldemort exists in his mind, not even the thought of how professor Dumbledore has seemed more tired than ever on the few occasions when James has seen him these past weeks. James is not sure whether or not he has imagined, or if Dumbledore's beard actually has begun to turn grey. And no new examples of how first and second years become frightened while seeing the older pupils crack and break down in public because of having letters of death being delivered to them by the morning owls. The deaths are so many now that they aren't even being pronounced in person anymore. The first minutes of breakfast have become a moment of dread for everyone not secure by blood. However, he does not think of any of this. He feels more than well because of it.
He is slightly tired, but doesn't want to close his eyes just yet. The day, this day, is just a little too sweet to end already. Suddenly he is overpowered by an impulse to say something and he knows exactly, word by word, what he wants to tell her. He loves her.
He has know for quite some time now, ever since he realised the fixation he had by Lily wasn't something temporary, something that would go away. But today, now, exactly this moment, he wants to tell her. He wants to say it. Everything. He would like to burst out in some romantic ballad, despite the fact that he couldn't hit a note to save his life. He wants to kiss her until she realises how beautiful she is. Live with her forever. That thought, the last one, should probably frighten s seventeen year old man. It doesn't. Not enough to have an impact on his life anyway. Suddenly he seems to understand how happy he is. What immense luck he has. And despite that it might not be the smartest move to tell her today, out of all days, he can't stop himself.
He tells her.
