Prompt: Jily at Karaoke

Lily sighed as she accepted her drink from the bartender. "Thank you," she said, sliding a galleon across the counter, when a large hand closed over hers, stilling her movement.

"Don't you know it's in bad form to drink alone," came the teasing voice of Potter as he slid her galleon back towards her, replacing it with two of his own and saying to the bartender, "I'll have whatever she's having. And a glass of water," he added after a sideways glance at her.

"I don't need a babysitter, Potter," she snapped at him.

"I didn't say you did," he responded, raising both hands in a gesture of innocence. "But, and just being curious here, why did you ditch your friends and come out here to drink alone?"

She said nothing.
"I thought we were past the silent treatment, Evans," he teased lightly, tugging on the end of her plait.

He was right, she knew. They'd actually become friends this year. He'd confided in her and asked for her help; it was the least she could do to extend the same gesture of trust to him. "I got dumped," she confessed, hating the tightness in her throat but forcing herself to continue, "Apparently I am too controlling. Too uptight. I don't know how to, and this is a direct quote, let my hair down and just have fun."

"I'm sorry, Evans."

"I don't want your pity," she responded, if a tad snippily.

"I didn't say that," Potter said, "I'm just saying I'm sorry you're hurting…"

She raised an eyebrow and gestured that she was waiting for him to go on.

"It was a dick move of him to say that, but, and don't take this the wrong way," he spoke slowly as if approaching a wounded animal, "You could stand to let loose every once and a while."

"We can't all be you, Potter," she snapped.

"Well, obviously," the smug git said with a self assured shrug, "But would it really hurt to just let go, and I don't know, live a little? Let yourself have fun."

"I'm plenty fun," she retorted, signalling the bartender for two more shots and downing them.

"Never said you weren't," came his reply as he signalled for a shot of his own, "I actually happen to think you're pretty great, Evans" he said, lightly bumping her shoulder with his own, "Just let your hair down a little."

She huffed, pulling the elastic from the end of her plait and letting her hair fall freely around her face.

"There you go, Evans!" Potter laughed, ordering them another round. Lily accepted the shot, and found herself smiling along with him.

Three rounds later, she'd undone her tie, discarded her robes, and was laughing alongside Potter as she leaned against him and tapped her foot in time with the familiar muggle song playing in the pub. He caught her toe tapping, and started humming along with the song, gradually starting to sing along under his breath.

"Those aren't the words!" she burst out laughing, catching the end of his version of the chorus.

"Those are exactly the words!" he protested, as she shook her head, laughing. "Alright, lyric police. What are the words?" he asked, sliding another shot towards her. She took the shot and whipped her hair around dramatically, singing along to the next verse and ignoring the glances turned her way from the other patrons of the pub. Potter laughed as she sang along, getting more into it with every line, finally joining in at the chorus with matching enthusiasm.

By the end of the last verse, they had the entire pub's attention. "Encore!" someone called out, and the familiar chords of the song started again. Potter handed her a shot, then helped her up onto the counter of the bar, cheering wildly. Laughing, she took both the shot and his hand up, to the cheers of the gathered crowd. From her place on the bar, she belted along to the song, laughing and dancing along the countertop. Potter sang along, matching her energy in their encore, his eyes never leaving her from where he danced along on the crowded pub floor.

She had just started the last verse, then suddenly she was falling. Lily barely had time to register the startled gasps of the crowd before she was wrapped in a warm embrace smelling slightly of sandalwood and firewhiskey. She looked up at her savior, already knowing who it would be, yet still startled by the intensity of the hazel eyes that looked down at her.

How had she never noticed? His eyes had flecks of green in the brown, and under the light they seemed to glow gold. Those eyes. So intense, and– was he getting closer? Was he going to kiss her? She tilted her face up to his, her chest squeezed in anticipation, lips parted–

"We should probably head back to the castle," she whispered, her lips a hair's breadth apart.

"Yeah," he agreed in a hoarse whisper, putting her down, the spell broken.

"I–" she started.

"It's okay, Evans," he said, looping a friendly arm around her shoulders, "we should probably be going anyway. Transfiguration first thing in the morning!" he smiled broadly, but it didn't meet his eyes.

She wanted to protest. She wanted to say something. To acknowledge that something had changed between them. A million thoughts flew through her mind, discarded one after the next. But the moment was gone, and she suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia for something she'd never truly known, and would probably never get back.