I own nothing, obviously. All rights to go J.K. Rowling.


For Brytte Mystere

Happy (late) Birthday, dearest

-.-


"To love someone was not what she had expected. It was like falling from somewhere high up and breaking in half, and only one person having the secret to the puzzle of putting her back together."

― Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily


James Potter.

For a boy who is typically bold, excitable, and ever so confident walking in his own skin, Lily finally decides one day that he is, in fact, a bit of mystery to her.

Really. In spite of herself, she (often) wonders what is actually beneath all that cockiness, those gleaming dark eyes of his?

For instance:

when James and his usual playmates happen to show up to class this morning (twenty-five minutes late)— with all of them looking tired and worn, but tight-lipped, and rather disheveled (especially Remus) — Professor Binns nods, waves it off, and says nothing about it as if he knows something, as if he was expecting the boys to arrive as is.

James simply turns, approaches with an idle smirk, then slides into the empty chair next to hers.

"Evens."

Scoffing, she steals a moment to inspect his dirty robes, limp tie, and untucked shirt more closely. "You look awful," she whispers back.

"Thank you, and you look awfully beautiful too, as usual."

"What were you idiots doing after dark anyway to make you this late to class? Dancing naked under the full moon and howling away into the night?"

James tips his head. His smirk widens. "Something like that," he says, shrewdly and amused.


The first time they start tossing their clothes down to the floor over the summer holiday, Lily realizes how much James suits her. Influences her. Thrills her. Cherishes her.

Her waking passion and desires burn as vibrant and wild as her hair from the inside out.

She draws James in and down tightly against herself, no longer concerned about maintaining any kind of physical (or an emotional) distance from him tonight.

The window of his bedroom is open, the night air is warm, and their skin grows slick with love and sweat.

James knows how to touch her just right, knows where to kiss her neck to make her sigh in pleasure. But honestly, Lily doesn't prefer to think about that for long. She quickly dismisses the possibility of the charming James Potter fluttering after other girls besides her, maybe just to satisfy his curiosity and boyish needs. Maybe.

(Truthfully many students at Hogwarts might tiptoe away from the Yule Ball's chaotic festivities during winter, find an empty sleigh-carriage outside, and lift up their dress skirts or unbuckle their trousers. Doing that was almost a silly rite of passage for most students and the goal was not to get caught by a teacher. And if a certain activity involved secrets, fun, and a whole lot of mischief, chances are James Potter would be part of it.)

Then again, she really doesn't care. Either way, it doesn't even matter. At all. It doesn't matter who was pining after who first anymore, because the loyalty and emotional attachments are completely mutual. They're together and Lily's currently falling in love with the way he's moving, pleasing her, kissing every exposed freckle he can find right down to her navel.

This... this feeling, this connection is true love. It must be. Simple as that.


"Why are you here, Potter?"

"Because for whatever reason, Snape, she wants you at the wedding next year... even if you keep ignoring her letters. At least tell her you're busy and can't make it or something this time? It's been so long and things have changed since..."

"Mind your own damn business, Potter, and just— just don't hurt her. I swear it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"I love her, Snape," James promises Severus before turning away, leaving him silent and sick with old festering guilt. "Why would I ever hurt her?"


Lily surely has her own fun teasing James, too.

She jokes with him, praises him, falls asleep under his arm by firelight, and will let him chase her down the main corridors when she's in a particularly playful mood. And it goes on and on in circles. It becomes routine until it becomes their commitment, their engagement, their love story, until—

— until it only takes one more visit home, one remaining vile look from Petunia, for Lily to fully realize just how protective she really is over James.

Lily scolding him and mocking him is one thing. It's their thing. But heavens forbid if someone else would dare show any form of disgust towards her little cocky, endearing Wizarding boy.

(After all, no matter how brave and strong the lion seems, it's the lioness you gotta watch out for.)

And even after all these years spent trying to repair tattered bonds, the great divide between Magicborns and Muggles is now becoming prominent in her own childhood? Her family? Amongst sisters?

No, Lily isn't going to stand for it. James is her lion, her soulmate, her choice, and she's not going to throw him aside merely for her sister's comfort.

Lily just sets down her cup of bitter watery tea and grins sweetly in return, intentionally catches her sister's prying gaze.

"Petunia, guess what? I'm pregnant."