James has never believed in love at first sight.
(But then, he'd never met Lily Evans before, had he?)
The first time he sees her, he feels the breath escape him, and for a moment wonders whether he's suddenly developed asthma—he can't come up with another explanation for his lungs' lack of functioning as he makes eye contact with the brightest green he's ever seen.
Her eyes alone are fucking amazing, so it takes a second for him to see the shiny, dark red-orange hair pulled into a haphazard messy bun, the blazer and pantsuit pristine despite her frazzled expression.
She's ahead of him in line, and they wait beside the counter for their orders; she's on the phone, speaking rapidly and trying to keep her voice quiet.
"Yes, Tuney, of course I'll be there soon, I've already notified my boss, and I—" a wince, the shrill voice on the other end audible, if indecipherable. "No—I, I'm sorry Petunia. I can't—"
"Large hot hazelnut, black!" The barista calls out, and the young woman he's staring at like a creeper hurries forward, smiling earnestly and whispering "thank you!" out of her phone's range.
She rushes past, but an older man isn't paying attention and assumes she'll be the one to move out of the way, and James can see it all happening a second before it does, the way he does when playing basketball.
She maintains her footing—barely—but everything in her heavy laden arms tips over, and he's reaching just in time to grab the coffee and her phone, though the pager and half-eaten muffin are a lost cause.
She stammers her thanks as she drops to the floor to grab the cracked pager and now-trash muffin, tucking it into her elbow. A hand extends to take the phone and coffee from him—"you saved the essentials, honestly, what a godsend!" said completely ironically. A small smile graces her face as they make eye contact once more, and he manages to get out, "Uh—no problem. Sure. Yeah."
And like that, she's gone.
/
He doesn't let himself dwell on the gorgeous woman, who Sirius has dubbed the 'drop-dead redhead' despite never having seen her.
They'd never had a conversation, never even exchanged names, and he won't be one of those people who replays such a small moment over and over until he sees something there that's not. She was beautiful, and props to her for that—she seemed nice enough, and he's always been glad when someone rather attractive is kind, like they somehow deserve it more—but her having the most amazing and thoughtful eyes of any human he's ever met is only aesthetic, and irrelevant at the end of the day.
Dating is already a bit of a mess in their world, anyway, soul mates being what they are.
There's the subset of people who don't bother to date until they meet their soulmate, figuring the universe knows what it's doing, and why waste anyone's time or love when the one could come knocking. The ones who say fuck it to the universe thinking it knows best and refuse to ever be with their soulmate, going to far as to marry others. (Sometimes, their soulmate is happy for them when they meet, and they become incredibly close, platonically, for the rest of their lives; others, messy fights; in some cases, divorce, custody battles.)
James isn't quite sure where he stands on the matter. He's had his soul mark since he turned ten, same as everyone else; a hoof on his rib cage, which could've been one of many cloven animals, of course, though the nature books he's scoured seem to indicate that it's a deer print.
(It's a possibility that his assurance is wishful thinking. Sirius is convinced it's a pig hoof, to match his personality.)
It's tricky. He'd like to believe in the idea of soul mates—the idea that everyone has a perfect person, just for them, a match to their every imperfection. That if fate, or the Devas, or Allah—whoever has control of the universe—has so much power, in this one matter it can be used to help humanity find their way.
But it also feels naïve to stand around and hope for the best when so many don't meet their soulmate till so shortly before their death.
In this day and age, of course, there are apps to help you find each other—but if fate is responsible for designating soul mates, James thinks, shouldn't it also be left to designate when they meet?
(As of yet, there's not a record of a single soul dying before meeting its other half, after all.)
All of this to say, James is almost entirely unaffected after having seen the drop-dead redhead. She seemed lovely, speaking with her might've been nice, but at the end of the day there's so much more going on in his life than fleeting possibilities, the beginnings of which never even started to come to fruition.
(That is—he's unaffected after seeing her the first time.)
/
"Mom, you won't believe what your son is saying," he calls as he enters her lab two weeks later. He tries to come by for lunch at least once a week, has since he was in high school—has been much more diligent about it since his father's death his second year of college.
"Darling, at this point, there is very little that could've come out of Sirius's mouth that would surprise me," she replies from her desk amusedly, concentrating on a data report before her. "And do keep from yelling so loudly—Lily and Severus are both working, and I don't need you scaring away more of my grad students; if ones this bright go to competition, I might as well declare bankruptcy then and there."
"It was one time!" he protests, wincing sheepishly when she raises an eyebrow at his still-loud voice.
The mention of her top grad students straightens him, though; his mother is their lab manager and absolutely raves about their potential and work ethic, had nearly burst into tears when they both committed to her department. If he did scare one of them away…well, his mother is enamored with them enough that he thinks she might offer to get rid of her own flesh and blood to get them to stay on.
(He's never met Lily, as she's usually holed up in her lab or taking lunch with a friend, but he has interacted with Severus once—not a fan. He's tried to avoid repeating the occurrence since.)
"Did you call me, Dr. Potter?"
Something in the back of his mind says he should know this voice—should know it as well as he knows himself.
He begins to spin dramatically, not an atypical action for him, but trips and knocks a beaker onto the floor, and proceeds to fall towards the spill.
"Shoot, James—" his mother's voice is worried, but before she can get the sentence out delicate but sturdy arms swoop under his own and tug him up, like an accidental trust exercise.
"Points for flair, little Potter, but it might be in your best interest in the future not to fling yourself about near acid." The words are reprimanding, but her voice is filled with laughter, and he already knows they're going to get along well when he looks up and sucks in a breath at the familiar shade of green. "Oh!"
"Nice to see you again," he says cheerfully, attempting to keep his cool like his heart isn't going a million miles an hour. "Thanks for the save."
"Only returning the favor," she responds.
"James, you didn't tell me you knew Lily!" his mother badgers him.
"I don't—er—I suppose I didn't know I knew her," he begins, and the woman in question releases a chuckle.
"James was the one nice enough to save my coffee and phone from a perilous death at the coffee shop a few weeks back—the day Dudley was in the hospital. It was a shitshow."
His mother is unfazed by the language, and he wants to complain, knowing she'd have a fit if he or Sirius cursed in her presence; before he can wholly formulate the thought, though Lily is turning back to him, and nothing else can keep his attention.
"My nephew got pneumonia. Petunia—my sister, that is—she and her husband are awful really, but she's the only family I have, really, and their little boy is just one and the absolute sweetest child. I was just away to grab them lunch, and the coffee for myself, but that day was…well, a lot."
His mother's absolute adoration of her clicks with every word out of her mouth. Her own parents had died young, leaving her relatively alone in the world. She'd busted her ass, putting herself both into debt and through her doctorate, and meeting his father (her soul mate) relatively late in life.
She'd been through the ringer, his mother, and yet she was still the most good-hearted human being on the planet—he'd fight anyone about that to the death.
(Which she, obviously, would not approve of.)
As such, she felt a special connection with people in a similar position—it was the reason when things with his own biological parents went wrong, it hadn't been a question of if Sirius would be moving in with them—only of which bedroom he wanted to be his.
"Happy to have helped you get caffeinated, then," he chirps, and instantly wants to smack himself—happy to help her get caffeinated, James, are you fucking kidding me. "Is your nephew doing better?"
He swears her eyes sparkle. "Yeah, he's healed up and back to running around like a tornado."
"He's absolutely precious," his mother agrees, a fond smile on her face. "Now, Jamie, tell me whatever it is your brother has gotten up to."
Lily waves before heading back into her work room, and James catches himself watching the door long after she's stepped inside it.
(His mother's eyebrow is raised, a smirk on her face when he turns back to her.)
/
It happens mostly by accident. He stops by the lab aa bit more frequently in the hopes of seeing her, which his mother is kind enough not to comment on, and they get to talking rather often; they don't have much in common, but that which they do they're both passionate about, so the conversation never stalls.
When he's talking to Lily…the world just seems brighter. The more they get to know each other, the more amazing he thinks she is, and he's honestly not sure how he'd made it this far in life without her as a friend.
(He tries not to think about how much he'd like her to be more than that.)
It's a Friday, Sirius with him this time, and they're just on their way out when Lily's laugh sounds out, and she nearly walks straight into them, focused on her phone.
"I'm so sorry—oh, hi Jamie! How's your day?"
He winces internally, and a side glance confirms that yes, Sirius did notice and is already grinning like a Cheshire cat at her use of the nickname.
(She'd picked it up from his mother, and, well, he didn't exactly mind, so he'd never mentioned that no one else had ever called him Jamie.)
"It's good Lily, how are you? How's Dudley?"
Lily had told him another story about her nephew the next time they bumped into each other, and it wasn't much later that it became a staple of their interactions for her to regale him with the tales of Dudley's foot-high adventures.
"Oh, god—he somehow got into the toothpaste and put it into his babysitter's hair, scared away another one; not that I'm complaining, because that means Petunia will ask me to watch him more, but—fuck, I'm being so rude," she apologizes turning to Sirius.
"Not at all," he assures her, turning on the charm. "So you're the famous Lily. Mom and James have both absolutely raved about you—I confess, I assumed it was an exaggeration, but it seems I was wrong."
James glares at the idiot, pouting at the blush on Lily's face.
"Your mother warned me about you," she informs him. "I'm supposed to tell her the first time you try to woo me so she can cut your hair in your sleep in retribution."
"No!" Sirius gasps, tugging at the wavy wisps of hair dangling from the bun in question. "Threatening my greatest joy? And the woman wonders why we wanted to move out. The betrayal!"
"I did tell you he was the dramatic one," James reminds her, and she nods in concession.
"You did. What are you boys up to today?"
"We have to head back to the station right now, finish up some paperwork, but tonight we're hitting the bar up the road to celebrate closing the case from hell."
"Honestly, if I'd known being a detective would be so much paperwork I would have just started a band like I planned," Sirius complains.
"Sirius, we already discussed the rock star idea not being feasible—and you aren't the one who does the paperwork, fucker."
"I believe the service I perform for our partnership is just as important as his," Sirius tells Lily very seriously. "He does all of the responsible adult things, and I make the playlists and show him funny memes to keep him motivated."
"I never would've pegged you for the dad friend, Potter," Lily teases.
Sirius rolls his eyes. "You should see him when we're drunk—actually, come by tonight! You'll get a front seat to dad mode, AKA drunk James forcing water down everyone's throats and telling off anyone offering us more to drink."
"That is definitely something I want to see. I'll see if I can convince Remus to go. See you later, then!" she says with a smile as she heads back inside, tugging on her lab coat.
"Remus?" Sirius asks.
James scratches the back of his head. "Er, she mentions him pretty often when she's telling stories, but I assumed he's just a friend, because once she told me a story about an ex-girlfriend of his she's good friends with."
"We'll sus them out tonight," Sirius assures him, the look in his eyes calculating. "Jesus, Mom had mentioned you were head over heels for her, but that was next level. I haven't seen you that smitten since the summer we spent with Dad's fam in New Delhi. Whats-his-face Patil, now he was—"
"Fuck off, don't you have to put more product in your hair or something?"
/
They're four drinks in and properly tipsy by the time a melodic voice calls, "There you are, Potters!"
"How do you know someone who looks that cool, James?" Alice teases, the arm around Frank's neck stroking the twin soul mark to her own that adorns his collarbone.
"I'm plenty cool!" he protests, just in time for Lily to approach and raise an eyebrow at the remark.
It's the first time he's seen her outside of the cozy sweaters she usually wears to work, so it takes him a moment to get his bearings.
Her hair is down, waving to the middle of her back (Sirius has made him aware enough of hair that he recognizes an inch or two of split ends, but even they look beautiful on her). He thinks he might implode at the sight of her in a skintight black dress, and his gaze is just catching on the black arrow that graces her bicep when she turns around.
"Remus, don't be such a recluse! Come say hi." She reaches a hand back to tug forward a tired-looking brunette, one who looks every bit the hipster-writer stereotype but nonetheless pulls it off.
"Hey," he says with a small smile at their group. "Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you."
"Why the fuck are you still wearing your sweater, it's about a million degrees in here. We get it, you're a college professor and very brilliant." She insistently pulls on his sleeve until he sighs in a way like this is not an unusual occurrence, before complying.
"James Potter," he greets when the other man has the sweater off, extending a hand.
Remus's returning smile is kind, and he's thinking maybe they'll be good friends too, when Remus reaches to shake the proffered hand.
(There, mocking him cosmically from Remus's arm, sits an arrow identical to the one on Lily's skin.)
They're soul mates.
Of course they're soulmates—there's no mistaking the fondness in Lily's voice even as she admonishes him, the easy way she leans into him when they sit down.
The rest of the night is a blur for James.
He hadn't been naïve enough to think he and Lily were soul mates, by any means, but—a tiny part of him he'd tried to ignore had hoped.
They clicked so well, and he'd never really been able to see himself content enough to settle down before meeting her, and it had made him wonder if maybe—but he guesses not.
Remus is Lily's soul mate.
He's not normally the kind to get so attached; doesn't know why this is hitting him quite so hard.
But Lily, with someone other than him…it feels like a shoe on the wrong foot.
/
He doesn't bring it up to any of his friends, not even his brother. Even acknowledging that he'd hoped so badly for things to come together is embarrassing and almost painful, so he just—doesn't.
It'd be easier if he could hate Remus, and be salty about the whole thing, or somehow think the universe got it wrong; naturally, Remus Lupin is one of the most wonderful humans who has ever lived. He's incredibly smart, witty enough to keep up with Sirius, and might be more thoughtful than even Euphemia.
(James doesn't think he, or anyone else, could ever be good enough to deserve Lily Evans, but Remus…Remus just might.)
He can't even be mad that the two of them are soul mates—they're perfect together. They bring light and love to every room they're in, pull pranks and eat gallons of ice cream and genuinely just make the world a better place to be for everyone around them.
He end Lily still spend a lot of time together, and it's half torture, knowing he's falling in love with her when she's already got the person she's destined to be with, however much he thinks they would fit together perfectly.
But the joy in her eyes whenever she mentions Remus is unmistakable; the anguish, when her soul mates struggles are mentioned. She loves the man—and James can't help but be happy for them, not when someone he cares about so much, someone who deserves everything good in this life, so is happy and loved.
She notices him being more withdrawn, tries to invite him along to their wine nights and movie outings and once a camping trip, but he puts on a smile and makes excuses.
And he tries to go on dates with other people—even goes so far as to join one of the soul mate finding apps, hoping to get over her. He doesn't want this to ruin their friendship; losing Lily altogether just isn't an option. And he feels guilty, pining away for his friend's girl, because by this point he respects the hell out of Remus, the man is one of his closest friends—he deserves more from him than this.
But he just can't. Can't convince himself to be interested in anyone but Lily, can't get her out of her head as many one night stands as he tries to have or how many of her bad qualities he reminds himself of.
(Spoiler alert: even her flaws are endearing.)
He doesn't know how he can keep doing this; he needs to find his soul mate soon, or he thinks he'll fall apart.
Lily.
(she might be the thing to destroy him.)
/
By the time they've known each other a year, he's perfected the art of pretending not to be in love with Lily Evans. Has gotten used to the fact that she has a soul mate that's not him, to the concept of her and Remus as unalterable.
Which is why when he walks in the apartment to find the professor in question on the couch underneath Sirius, he just about loses his shit.
"What are you—how could you—what about Lily? What the fuck, you monsters, how could you both do this to her, you—"
Remus and Sirius are both looking at him like he's crazy, attempting to tug their clothes back into place.
"James, can you give us a minute to straighten up before you keep babbling nonsense?"
It crosses James's mind that this is quite possibly the first time Sirius hasn't made a pun when using the word straight since he'd come out a decade ago, but he doesn't dwell on that.
"No, I can't 'give you a minute' when you're betraying the best human being on this planet! You're lucky enough to be with her and you—" He swings his arms about, forgetting about the smoothie he's holding, and then it's spilling all down his chest, but he remains unbothered. "How dare you?"
"How dare they what?"
James feels all the blood drain from his face at the sound of Lily's voice in the doorway.
He sets down the now-empty cup, and turns to her mournfully. "Lily, I—I'm so sorry, I don't know how to tell you this."
"What the fuck are you on about, you idiot?" Sirius demands.
"I'm on about you fooling around with her soul mate, you bastard!" he yells, his voice rising an octave, before he turns to her with wide eyes. "God, I'm so sorry, Evans, you shouldn't have had to find out like this—we can go to my mother's, and she can make you tea, and—"
"James," Lily interrupts carefully. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."
"Sirius and Remus," he says by way of explanation.
"What about them?"
"I think there's been some confusion," Remus says gently, eyes alight with understanding. "Lily, you never told James about the tattoo, did you?"
"Oh my god," Sirius groans, and practically throws himself down on the carpet. "James, you blithering noble-hearted idiot."
Lily remains confused, so Remus approaches James with a sigh, holding out his arm.
The mark stares up at him—the way it always does, when he's around them both, mourning the proof that he and Lily will never be.
Then, Remus says the words that flip his world on its head.
"James, this isn't a soul mark. Lily and I aren't soul mates."
James isn't breathing, as Remus continues speaking. "They're matching tattoos—it makes sense that you'd assume, and I'm sorry we never thought to explain. We got them our senior year of college—both of our lives had gone to shit, we'd been to hell and back, together. Knew we'd be in each other's lives forever—that we might have a romantic soul mate out there, but that our friendship was just as meaningful and important, and wanted to have it on our skin too."
Sirius tugs up the hem of Remus's shirt with a practiced hand, and the latter blushes but doesn't protest when Sirius points to the bottle-cap-sized paw atop his hip—Remus's actual soul mark. "Look familiar, asshat?"
(Of course it does—Sirius has made him watch every canine documentary that's ever existed over the years to analyze it.)
He can't process that Remus is his brother's soul mate right now, though. His brain is short-circuiting.
Looks at Lily. "Remus—Remus isn't your soul mate?"
She shakes her head, her expression just as stunned. "All this time of you not making a move—you thought I was with Remus? Oh my god."
"I don't want to hear it," Remus raises a finger before she can say anything else. "I told you to be the one to ask him out ages ago, but 'clearly he would've initiated by now if he were interested, Remus, don't be ridiculous'."
"You're into me?" James clarifies, confidence restored. "Well, I suppose you have always had good taste."
(No one else can see that his hands are shaking.
"Are you seriously hitting on me right now, when you just accosted our best friends, with smoothie all down your shirt?"
"Evans, if you want to get my clothes off all you ever have to do is ask," he responds cheekily, pulling the neck of the back of his shirt with a flourish.
At the look on Lily's face seeing his abs, he sends prayers of thanks to all of the Hindi gods he can think of that he kept playing basketball after he graduated.
He starts to turn, raising his arms to throw the smoothie-covered shirt across the room and into the kitchen sink, but Lily makes a choking sound as the fabric leaves his hands.
"Alright, Evans?" he asks worriedly, spinning to face her again, but she's not looking at him.
(Her gaze is locked onto his rib cage, where the ink black of his soul mark is visible against the teak of his skin.)
"Lily, what's wrong? I'm not—I haven't found them yet, but if you're worried—"
She holds up a hand to stop him. Without another word, she begins to tug her dress shirt out of her belt.
"What are you—"
"Would you shut up!" she exclaims impatiently. "Wait two seconds and you'll understand."
She rolls the shirt up to the edge of her bra, taking a deep breath before turning so he can see her side.
"A deer track," he says automatically, before it sinks in. "Oh my god, then you're—then I'm—"
"Thank god," is all she says, stepping forward until they're close enough to touch.
His arms slide around her automatically, and it feels every bit as natural as he thought it would.
(Loving Lily has always been as easy as breathing.)
"By the way—I'm kind of in love with you," he informs her, cheek atop her head.
"Oh, good—all this time I'd thought it was unrequited. Thought I'd end up a spinster when those two abandon me to travel the world, really."
He laughs at her barb, so it takes him a second to realize that she just said she loves him. "Wait, are you fucking serious?"
"Pretty sure we established that that's me," Remus says dryly, and the room bursts into laughter.
Lily presses her head to his chest. "Yeah, Jamie, I'm serious. Brace yourself—you have to deal with Petunia for the rest of your life."
/
"Harry, no!" He curses under his breath and chases after his son, who giggles from the driver's seat of his toy jeep as he zooms about the yard.
Lily laughs from where she stands, taking a video with her phone.
"A little help here?" he calls.
"I was the one growing him for nine months—your turn," she teases.
"Lily he's three years old, you can't keep using that excuse forever!" Nonetheless, he sprints after the toy car, snatching his son out of it and pressing the break just before it approaches the road.
"Daddy, more! I love going fast!" Harry's eyes—still the brightest green he's ever seen—look up at him earnestly, nothing but pure joy on his face.
"Later, buddy, I promise—right now we have to get you clean, okay? We don't want to be late for Dudley's soccer game."
"Dudley!" Harry screeches excitedly, clapping his hands together—he and his now seven-year-old cousin have been thick as thieves since the day he was born, when Dudley refused to relinquish the baby in his arms to anyone but Lily herself.
"You're a snake," James mutters to Lily as he passes her on his way in the house, his heart thumping with contentment at the sound of her resounding laughter.
"Love you!" she says, taking Harry from his arms. "Spectacular driving, Harry—though we do need to work on your turns."
"Don't encourage this!" James pleads, but she waves him away.
"Don't be a spoilsport, Jamie." She lowers her voice. "It's okay, Harry, next weekend Mommy's off and Daddy has to work, we'll practice some more."
"Might as well have married Sirius, honestly," James says, exasperated.
The man in question's actual husband would probably have something to say about that, but they're off on another adventure; Remus refuses to teach summer semesters, and he and Sirius travel everywhere under the sun when the station gives him time off, under the guise of Remus's "research".
It's funny, now—that he'd once thought Lily and Remus could ever be together. They're the best of friends, to be sure, but they're also both far too focused, and they never take care of themselves; half of James and Lily's relationship is him reminding her to stop to eat, to go to bed, to spend a day away from the lab. She's gotten better since Harry was born, since she'd rather be with her kid than anywhere else, but still—she's pure chaos, in the best way.
He'd thought he could never be enough for her, but they balance completely; him, goofy but responsible; her, carefree but thoughtful. The days he's too worried about all the ways Harry could be hurt and she reminds him the world is always dangerous, however much you restrict yourself; better to let him have fun, sometimes.
Later that night, after they're done spying on Harry and Dudley in their fort on the living room floor, he flops onto their bed with a content sigh. Lily snorts, but crawls in beside him, poking him in the shoulder until he lifts an arm for her to crawl beneath.
They wonder who Harry's soul mate will be, sometimes; the other person with the image of a tiny snake curled up on their left foot. Who will spend the rest of their life with the little boy who loves animals and playing and shows about basketball. Who will love him after they're gone, whenever that is.
(Hopefully, he'll be as lucky as them.)