Regency Romance

The past week had been nothing short of miserable, and the weather was much the same. Dull grey clouds hung over Godric's Hollow, casting shadows of melancholy over its residents. Of course, the dreary weather had affected nobody in the town as much as it had Lily Evans, who had been spending the days looking out across the muddy fields of her father's farm from the seat underneath the window, and wishing for the sun to make its glorious return… amongst other things.

Honestly, the reason for her dour mood was only partly due to the horrible weather. Frankly, it could mostly be blamed on the absence of her favourite companion, who had taken an indefinite trip to Derbyshire on account of him attending to his sickly parents.

James Potter had left for Derbyshire weeks ago, and with him he had taken the good weather that she was accustomed to enjoying during the summer.

One week turned to two then to three and halfway through the fourth, the sun peeked through the dissipating clouds, banishing all thoughts of melancholy with its return. Needing no real excuse to be outdoors, Lily left the house with no real destination in mind, her only motive to enjoy the sunshine and be out of doors at long last.

She had always loved the way everything looked and smelled after recent rains. Somehow, everything always seemed so suddenly vibrant and lush, and the smell of dewy grass at once made her feel tranquil, happy and warm. She had been walking for some time, and the sun above was nearing its midday peak. Her father would be wondering where she was.

After picking a handful of wildflowers and fashioning them into a posy, she turned towards the direction of her house, but frowned when she saw a familiar figure jumping over the stone wall. Like it usually did when she saw him, the familiar ka-thump ka-thump of her heart began growing louder in her ears. Even from a distance he looked rather out of sorts, his coat tails billowing behind him as the summer breeze made the ends of her own dress flutter about her ankles.

The closer he came towards her, the louder the sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She had become recently accustomed to the reaction her body had towards even the mere mention of him. It was troublesome, of course, since her colouring was unforgiving to the blushes of attraction.

Once he finally reached her, his boots muddy, hair windswept, and his cheeks aflush, they exchanged the usual "good mornings" and "how do you do's" in similar quiet and slightly out of breath voices. Not long after, they settled into a conversation that was usually reserved for people who weren't quite as closely acquainted as they were. They covered other topics in quick succession: the wellbeing of his parents, how the ride back to Godric's Hollow was, and why he hadn't taken a carriage to Derbyshire.

The whole time, Lily couldn't help but notice that he was neither generous with his responses nor his usually frequent smiles. His smile was one of her favourite things about him, it was the sort of smile that not only lit up his face, but that of those he showed it to. She had yet to see that particular smile on his face, and instead was only treated to ones that never quite reached his eyes.

He offered to walk her back to her home, and all the while Lily couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something not quite right about his demeanour. Dread settled into her stomach, he had been gone for weeks after all, and the severe expression on his face made her mind conjure theories that were neither pleasant nor welcome.

"And what of your sister, Petunia, how is she?" James asked. "She must be so glad to be the mistress of her own household."

"She's settled now, how quickly things can change in a month," she finally replied as she hopped over a tiny ditch in the ground. "But I don't want to talk about Petunia and her husband. There's something you aren't telling me. And as one of your closest friends, I must admit that I feel rather affronted by your secrecy."

James had always been the more forthcoming of the pair of them, and she had hoped for an immediate answer from him disclosing his hidden feelings and thoughts. Rather, she was greeted with silence, and never before had she thought that the sound of nothing could be so deafening. When she turned to glance at him, his thick brows were furrowed and lines appeared on his forehead, his lips pursed.

Her mind didn't stop imagining the worst, and trying as hard as she could to banish the thought, she absently wondered if he had met a girl in Derbyshire. One that was beautiful, and rich, and who might actually be the equal that Lily could never be to him. Though they were friends, she was always aware that their friendship was an anomaly, after all, his family owned land that reached from Derbyshire to York, and she was just a farmer's daughter.

They walked silently for a few moments, before he stopped suddenly. She frowned, they were still two ploughfields away from her home. The sun was slightly behind him, and Lily couldn't quite remember a time when he'd been more handsome than he was now.

"I-I'm not naturally inclined to make such grand gestures of affection other than in jest," he began, eyes wide and panic-stricken, "perhaps if my feelings toward you were less than they are, but you see they aren't. I-" He paused and took a deep breath as he scratched his chin. "We've known each other for almost ten years, and you've always known that I'm quick to make light of everything, I never know when to stop jesting."

He stopped suddenly, his chest heaving as he tugged at the starch coloured cravat tightly secured around his neck. He seemed to be short of breath, and though Lily stepped forward to help him, she recoiled when he shook his head at her and drew away. Nothing had hurt her more than that fleeting moment of rejection.

Without any preamble, he untied and ripped the cravat from his neck and threw it on the ground. Within seconds the previously cream coloured cloth had turned a muddy brown.

As the sun reached its peak, Lily only then began to notice the rivulets of sweat that trickled down the sides of James' face. It was a warm day for sure, but the warmth came entirely from the sun and there was still a coolness in the air. She wore the same amount of layers of clothing that he did, but she wasn't sweating.

"I won't prolong the inevitable, God knows I don't currently have the right words to express how I feel, but put quite simply," he paused. "I stand before you as your oldest friend, as a man who loves you, with my heart open and unguarded to do with it as you wish. If you don't feel the same as I do for you, I will be content for things to stay as they are; I will never again speak a word of this. But if the opposite is true, tell me now Lily," he professed, his voice soft, tender and resigned.

Even without asking she could see on his face that he had resigned himself to forever being her friend. She could see it in the way his shoulders dropped slightly, and the way fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. And perhaps if he had professed his feelings for her on a day other than today, she might have condemned him to a life of platonic friendship.

But the truth was that without his presence for the past four weeks, her feelings towards him had become surprisingly clear. It was true what her mother had said when she claimed that absence between lovers made the heart grow fonder. Since they were children, she was never far from his presence, she was ashamed to admit that she had taken his company for granted. And though they'd had their share of quarrels and anonymity, she only remembered the happy memories of their time together.

She'd always thought that falling in love was a grand affair, a single moment in a relationship where one person said to the other that they loved them. But she was wrong. She'd never had one moment where she'd fallen in love with James; it had been a smattering of different moments that when put together suddenly gave them a profound meaning.

She'd fallen in love with him because he always remembered to place a bookmark in her books when she would leave the room abruptly. It was moments like when he'd remember to bring her gloves for her because she claimed never to have cold hands. She loved him because he was generous with his time and his attention, and never made anyone feel as though they were less than worthy of his full attention.

And though she could only acknowledge her true feelings now, she knew that there was nobody in the world who loved her vices and virtues as unconditionally as James did. The happiness she felt when she was with him wasn't the kind that made you want to scream and jump up in glee - though perhaps today was an exception to the rule; it was the quiet type of happiness, the happiness shared by those who were content with what they had and wished for nothing else.

She allowed herself a few seconds of stillness to calm her mind, and though she only did it so she could be honest and confident when she admitted that she loved him also, James took it as the opposite.

"Ah, how foolish of me to assu— only that I should've interpreted the signs better. I'm sorry, I shouldn—"

She didn't allow him to voice anymore of his ridiculous assumptions, and instead she dropped her posy of flowers on the grass, stepped forward, took his hand in hers, and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. She didn't miss the way his body suddenly froze, nor did she miss the way he let out a breath as her lips touched his skin, and though he tried to hide it, his lips tilted up into the smile that she had been waiting to see from him..

Though propriety demands that she release his hand and step away lest someone come across them, she cared naught and only held onto James' hand tighter, she'd long ignored the thumping of her heart, and her face felt flush as he took a step closer towards her, the toes of their shoes touching.

"I suppose this means you feel the same way," he whispered, the heat of his breath mingling with hers.

Lily was ready to reply but paused as he bent his head towards hers and rested his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses barely touching. Their breaths mingled with one another and created a heady little bubble around them, the rest of the world be damned.

Her answer didn't matter, he knew what it was anyway, and she had a feeling that he had always known.

Author's Note

Word Count: 1841

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Game/Round: 1 - Practice

Team/Position: Montrose Magpies - Seeker

Task/Prompt: The Innocent- Goal: happiness OR Fear: punishment