lily/james, for vicky's belated birthday.
disclaimer: i don't own. the title is from mumford & son's song "ghosts that we knew."
Thunder boomed and Lily shuddered, her quill jostling a bit and dropping a splotch of ink on the parchment on which she was currently writing her Transfiguration essay. Sighing, she pulled her wand out of her bun - which, admittedly, was not the safest place to store it - and Vanished the extra ink.
"Scared of thunderstorms?" James asked from his armchair, which was situated near the window seat where Lily was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room.
The corner of her mouth twisted in displeasure. "It startled me, that's all," she replied, shrugging and causing a curl to loosen from her bun. Several already framed her face, and James could not help but think, that in her purple jumper and messy bun, she had never looked more beautiful. (He would often change his mind about this, however: the first time they woke up in the same bed, at his father's funeral, their wedding day, and right after Harry's birth.)
He smirked. "C'mere," he said pointlessly, as he was already clambering out of his chair and onto the window seat, wrapping his arms around her. She made a small noise of protest.
"What was that, love?" he asked.
"Nothing," she sighed, leaning back against him. James smiled. Outside, lightning flickered, illuminating the tall glass windows of the Gryffindor Common Room.
"I love thunderstorms," she said a few moments later.
James snorted, gentlemanly.
"What?!" she exclaimed in outrage. "You don't believe me? They're so…"
"So what, exactly?" James asked, amused.
"So...beautiful," Lily said at last. He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, stop it," she frowned, hitting him lightly. "I know it's cliché. Who's ever said I'm not?"
He laughed. "True, very true."
"Do you really say that?" she demanded. "That's just…ugh." She shuddered. He wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders and kissed the curve of her ear, making goose bumps appear on her neck.
"You're beautiful," he said, and she blushed and denied it, but she couldn't help thinking that maybe it was true; maybe he made her beautiful. Marlene had told her she glowed when she was around James. Maybe it was simply being with him that made her beautiful. It was cliché (and she knew it), but Lily had always been a romantic.
It was in that precise moment, while James, humming Octopus's Garden (out of tune, as always), had tucked his chin gently over the top of her head and their fingers were interlocked and resting on her stomach, that Lily decided she loved being in love. Because being in love meant that certain people left notes saying "I love you" in sign language in her bag when she was having a bad day, and would always listen to her, and give her parchment cranes that seemed insignificant to anyone but them. It meant that there was someone to make sure she was taking care of herself instead of everyone else. And even when she sunk to that dark place inside of her, there was always a hand reaching out to her and pulling her back into the light, and she would hold that hand as long and as hard as she could, and maybe it would be enough.
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