Prompt: Golden hour; (time of the day with perfect golden sky, sunrise, sunset. The magic hour for photography)
"Potter, I already know I don't like to fly!" Lily protested half-heartedly. It was hard not to give in to James when he was determined about something.
"You don't dislike flying, Evans," James quipped without even breaking stride, "You just dislike not being the best."
"That's not true!"
"Tell me. Have you ever tried flying again since that first lesson with Madam Hooch in first year?"
"No," Lily confessed reluctantly, remembering that awful first flying lesson. She'd put her hand over the broomstick and it hadn't budged an inch. No matter how hard she concentrated and commanded "Up." it didn't so much as roll over in the grass. Meanwhile, James and his band of hooligans had mostly already mounted their brooms. James and Sirius hovered a few inches above the ground– and she couldn't even get her broom to respond to her command. It was humiliating, and she'd decided then and there that she simply did not like flying at all.
"It takes practice, Evans," James lightly chided. "Sirius and I were given brooms practically before we'd taken our first steps. I'd bet that with the right teacher and a good attitude, you'd be in the air in no time!"
She cringed at his saccharine sentiment and faux perky tone.
"Too Hufflepuff?" he guessed, taking in her expression. She laughed. It felt good to laugh with Potter. To not feel like she was being laughed at by Potter. His laugh was warm and it made his eyes sparkle, inviting others to share in his joy with him.
"Fine," she conceded. "You may give me one flying lesson. One. And if I still don't like flying, you'll just accept it's something that's simply not for me."
He gave her a boyish grin that made something in her stomach flutter– a reaction that happened in his presence far more often than she'd like to admit. "Okay, Evans. One lesson. Then it's good that I picked today."
"Why?"
"You'll see," he responded cryptically.
James gave her the basics of mounting a broom, much the same as she'd learned in their first flying lesson seven years ago. But he seemed to have unending patience, even when she'd claimed natural ineptitude when the broom failed to raise to her command again. He had her try over and over.
"Up," she commanded the broomstick. Then, to her surprise, it shot off the ground and into her waiting grip. "I did it!" she shouted, elated, throwing her arms around James'
neck. He caught her around the waist, grinning down at her. "Uh, sorry," she stammered, a blush rising to her cheeks as she took in their position.
"Nothing to apologize for, Evans," he said with a sly grin.
Now that she knew the broom would respond to her commands, she felt more confident about the whole prospect of flying. Step by step, James showed her how to properly mount a broom, and where to place her hands for the most control over her movements. They hovered a few inches above the ground and landed. Then she pushed off to hover a few feet above the ground before landing again.
"Excellent!" James congratulated her. "Now, are you ready for your first real flight?" he asked.
The sun had set already, and the light was beginning to fade. "Are you sure we have time?" she asked.
"Positive."
With his confident answer, she swung one leg over the handle of her broom, and pushed off the ground.
"Follow me," he instructed, and set off at a leisurely pace– slowly rising higher and higher into the sky. Before she knew it, they were level with the quidditch hoops. The wind rushed in her face, and she couldn't help the elated whoop she let out as she sped up. It felt so freeing being up in the air. Gaining confidence, she sped higher and higher. Until she had a full view of the entirety of the Hogwarts castle.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" James asked, catching up to where she hovered in the air.
Beautiful didn't even begin to describe it. The setting sun set the castle ablaze– glowing gold in the fading light. The sky was a beautiful magenta backdrop and it seemed to make everything more whimsical and ethereal than ever before.
She turned to respond, and felt her breath leave her in a small startled gasp. James' gaze wasn't fixed on the gorgeous scene of the castle bathed in gold, but instead on her. The intensity in his eyes didn't waver, and Lily found herself drawn towards him. The fluttering in her stomach kept pace with the rapid beating of her heart as she drew nearer, holding his gaze. The fading light of the sun cast a halo around his head and brought out the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. His eyes seemed to glisten and glimmer– as if made of magic themselves.
She was drawn out of her reverie as she reached his side, and he reached out to steady her broom. They hovered next to each other in silence for a moment; saying nothing, yet a thousand things seemed to pass between them.
"Yeah, it really is," she finally whispered. A smile broke out across his face. Not one that she'd seen before. Not the cocky, arrogant grin of a quidditch captain, nor was it the smirk of someone who knew he'd pulled off something no one else had ever before. It
wasn't even the boyish grin of someone simply full of joy. No this grin was shy, almost, tentative– as if unsure if he was asking too much.
She couldn't help but grin back.
She wasn't sure how long they sat there, just staring and grinning like idiots– but it was almost dark when she shook out of the enchanting gaze of James Potter. "It's getting dark, we should head back," she whispered, still grinning.
"Yeah we should," he said– and she noted his smile didn't dip for a second either. Slowly they made their way back down. Feeling solid ground beneath her feet again was an odd feeling after spending so long in the air.
James stored away the brooms then made his way back over to where she waited. "Thank you," she said simply, then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.
An endearing blush crept across his cheek bones as he responded, "Anytime, Evans." and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. She stared at it in shock for a moment, before looking up to meet his eyes with a face-splitting grin. He wore an expression to match; and so they walked back up to the castle, hand in hand, with matching idiotic grins– and she couldn't have been happier.