James had always had bad vision.

He'd learned he needed glasses at age twelve, after having gotten a bad mark on a math assignment. He'd argued for a long time with his professor, insisting it was his fault for making the fives look like sixes and the nines like eights, until the poor man had picked up his chalk, and told James to stand at the back of the classroom. He wrote a sentence on the chalkboard, and asked James to read it aloud. James told him he hadn't written anything at all but some little lines, and to leave him alone.

The next break from school he was picking out glasses from a large shelf with his parents watching behind, choosing rectangular brown frames, and wondering anxiously whether his popularity would suffer from wearing the glasses. He'd gone to school wearing them, and shouted profusely at anyone who made fun of him, until it was generally accepted that James Potter's glasses were cool, and he'd started a sort of trend in his school. Everyone who discovered they had bad eyesight suddenly appeared at school wearing glasses similar to James'.

When he outgrew the pair, both because of correction and size, he'd picked similar ones, brown and rectangular. He'd grown used to them, popping them on in the morning, sometimes even forgetting to take them off at night, so that when once for a photo shoot he didn't wear them for an hour, the lights were all too bright, and he sat squinting at the vague forms and splotches of color that he took to be people.

James felt disoriented and vulnerable, eyes bare, sprinting through a dark alley as he wished his glasses hadn't been knocked off of his face and stepped on when the Death Eaters threw the first punch. He had to admit; maybe it wasn't best to be wandering around a dark alley in a dodgy area of Liverpool, but it was the only way he could light a cigarette and escape the stuffy air in the pub where they were celebrating Sirius' birthday, with no lack of alcohol.

He wouldn't have recognized the tattoo of a snake winding around a skull unless Lily had described it to him in detail, a look of fear in her eyes and a mask of nonchalance on her face. He hadn't thought it would be possible to be threatened in a public place, surely someone would notice the famous James Potter, but no one seemed to be on the streets.

He heard the footsteps behind him and rounded a corner, hoping to lose them or run into a place more monitored by the police. He knew he was only five minutes away from a park crawling with coppers, if only he could run fast enough. He had to rely on his instincts now, there was no way he could read the street signs, not even if he stopped running at this crazed pace, mostly fueled by adrenaline, as he heard shouts from behind him, telling each other where he was headed.

James entered a more brightly lit street, and felt like he was running the final stretch. A uniformed policeman was striding across the park, his leisurely pace contrasting horribly with James' run for survival. He stopped a few steps before reaching the man, and turned. Severus Snape stood watching him from across the street. He turned and melted back into the shadows.

James felt the adrenaline fade away and he bent double, gasping. The policeman approached, and James vaguely heard him ask if he was all right. He nodded as he caught his breath, wondering what would have happened if he hadn't run fast enough.


He had trouble putting the key in the lock, squinting until it blurred completely, and he had to close his eyes in frustration. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped back, and stuck the key in as accurately as he could. He felt it go in with delight and turned the key.

Lily was inside, making coffee with their new machine, and she looked up as he entered the flat. She looked like a wavy blur with a splash of red. What he supposed was her face changed, and he assumed she was wearing a look of surprise.

"What happened to your glasses?"

"Nothing," James muttered, touching his nose nervously. Lily put her hands on her hips, and he recognized that movement from memory.

"What happened?" she repeated.

"Well, we were out having a bevy with Sirius for his birthday, and I went out back to smoke, and Death Eaters attacked me."

"Leave it out."

James smiled at Lily, his face looking strangely out of context; usually he only went without glasses when he slept.

"No, really."

Lily took a deep breath. "No injuries?"

"No."

"This is bad."

"Yeah, I don't think they sell those same frames anymore."

Lily glared at him. "James, can you be serious for a minute?"

"Then you have to be Marlene."

"You just got attacked, and you're cracking jokes?" Lily said, looking him squarely in the face, indignation written on her every feature. James grabbed Lily's shoulders, his hazel eyes seeming softer bare.

"Lily, just don't worry. Everything is fine."


Lily had taken all afternoon classes at the University of Liverpool, so she would be able to sleep in and see the gray light of the clouded sun through her window in the morning.

She woke up and turned, her senses telling her it was somewhere near noon. Opening one eye at settling her gaze on her clock confirmed it would be ten minutes until her prediction would be perfectly accurate. James was gone from the bed but Lily wasn't worried, he was more of an early riser anyway.

In the stillness of the empty room, where actual sunlight was streaming in (Lily was honestly surprised), she felt a surge of happiness and truly appreciated how beautiful their flat was.

It was new enough of a home to make her bump into corners, occasionally discover new details on the wallpaper (James was sure he'd seen a monkey hidden among the faded arabesque floral pattern), and forget where she'd put things, and it was old enough to have hers and James' things stuffed into the deepest recesses of every cupboard and closet, James' glasses' cases littered about the place, and surprise eyeliner Lily could have sworn she'd lost three years ago.

James had already set up a shelf that took up half a wall filled only with guitars, and Lily had insisted on the coffee machine that took up half their kitchen. Her Duke Street flat had long since been sold and forgotten, at a good price thanks to James innocently appearing when she was showing the house and suddenly remembering he might have left some original lyrics somewhere in the flat.

She had no doubt people were tearing the place apart that very instant, trying to find some small relic of James to hold on to. She smiled, slightly wickedly, at the thought, when she passed into the bathroom to comb her hair, within touching distance of James' belongings, a fan's paradise.

She opened the door and locked it, stepping into the hall. Outside in the hall was a single window, with a view onto the Mersey, something of a joke on James' part. Downstairs, she checked their mailbox, and found nothing inside. She was both relieved and worried by the lack of mail from her family. Her parents had most likely forgotten or were going to write soon, which meant either nothing was wrong or something was very wrong.

Petunia could never be bothered to call, though Lily had given her their new phone number. All she'd gotten was a look of disgust when Petunia heard she was moving in with James Potter, which inflated into a large argument where Petunia left the table in anger, their father following her out desperately, trying to mend something that had long ago broken between the two sisters, while Lily stayed back at the dinner table with her mum, wiping her mother's tears and apologizing, empty promises flowing out of her lips.

Lily was at the stop two minutes before the bus was scheduled to pass by, and caught it at the usual time, not needing to hurry. Lily liked doing things properly, seldom hurried, and never wanted to leave things to chance. James would be the one to run after a bus whose doors had already closed, shouting something about needing to get to the hospital and rabies then vehemently denying it once he got on.

Lily would worry about the fans finding out where he lived if he kept attracting attention, and James offered to wear a fake beard, which earned him a cuff on the head, which didn't hurt, though he knew Lily could do much worse.

She looked out the window as the bus traveled towards the University of Liverpool. She knew she should worry about the attack on James, but when he really wanted to, he could have a calming effect on people, and she believed him when he told her not to worry. He was hypnotizing at times, and she always told him that if he could stop Lily Evans of all people from worrying, then he really had a gift. Half an hour and rather boring scenery passed by and the bus slowed at the last stop, hers. She left the bus, the proverbial spring in her step.

Severus knew it was Lily. He couldn't mistake that specific shade of red hair, and then there was her gait, her height; a million little details that could betray her identity to him. He noted the building Lily had disappeared into, and melted back into the shadows of the tall trees of the park, deciding to wait before he went to find her.


A/N: Well, almost 2000 words.

Let's hear it for a new story, new year, fresh start!