A/N - Hi, everyone! Happy Jilytober 2021! I started off writing this fic sometime in the beginning of September with the intention to post one chapter a day throughout all of Oct. I already have a large chunk of this story written, so updates will be daily... unless I can't finish all 31 chapters by the end of the month (fingers crossed that I can!)

Should have added this earlier but: I have not worked in hospitality before and don't have full visibility into how operations go on, so please be a little forgiving in case I butcher any details. Thank you, and hope you enjoy!

Room Service

Chapter 1

The sun is already making its sluggish descent in the sky when Lily Evans walks into The Golden Stag, a five-star luxury hotel established only over four years ago in the heart of London. The security guard holding the door open for her smiles pleasantly, and she grins back, tilting her head slightly as she enters the lobby with a coffee tumbler in hand.

Despite having worked here on the night shift for almost two weeks now, she still finds herself overwhelmed by the opulence and décor of the yawning space on the daily; the sleek cut of surfaces, the extravagant chandeliers, the rich mahogany colour of counters and tables, and of course, the constant scent of clean, soft air freshener that lingers around in subtle notes. All of it hits her anew as she makes her way towards the reception across the room.

From behind the desk, a head of long, shiny dark hair watches her approach with gleeful eyes.

"The love of my life," sighs Mary Macdonald, chin on her palm and grin on her lips. "Here just in time before I turn into a pumpkin."

"It was the carriage that turned into a pumpkin, Mary, not Cinderella herself." Lily rolls her eyes, smiling as she places the coffee tumbler below the desk. "All good here today?"

"Splendid. That fucking annoying couple in 303 finally checked out, and McGonagall hasn't had a reason to glare at me all morning."

"Oh, the day is young, still."

"Right you are. Maybe you can take over the danger for me, courageous one." Mary removes her name tag from her chest before pocketing the pin inside her sharp trousers. "Speaking of our friendliest manager, by the way, she told me to have you give her a call as soon as you arrive. Something important to share about the Potters, or something. Didn't listen properly; didn't care."

"Um—" Lily straightens, her own name tag pinned to the front of her shirt now. "Alright, will do. You're leaving now, then?"

"Obviously. Need sleep. This beauty doesn't maintain itself, Evans." She rounds the counter, a large handbag already slung over one arm. "Everyone except Kingsley is in today, so you should have enough help, unlike last weekend."

Lily nods. "Off with you, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Once Mary skips out the door, she draws in a deep breath, takes a long sip of coffee, and pulls the intercom towards herself. A quick dial of buttons, and then she's connected to the other end of the line.

"Minerva speaking. Who is this?"

"Good evening, ma'am, it's Lily Evans from the front desk. Mary, um—she said you wanted me to ring you?"

"Ah, yes, Evans." McGonagall's voice turns brisk, entirely professional, though Lily doesn't think she's ever heard the woman sound anything but. "Good that you're on time. I received a call this morning from Euphemia Potter, whom you must know by now, I presume?"

"Yes, of course. I've yet to meet her in person, but—yes, I know."

The fact that McGonagall doubts if she knows the name of one of the two owners of The Golden Stag would probably grate on her nerves more if Lily wasn't aware of the kind of forgetful person she'd replaced at the hotel two weeks ago. Sybil Trelawny had quite single-handedly dropped the standard expectations from a receptionist around the place when she'd joined, a fact that Lily still didn't know whether to be thankful for or not.

"Good." McGonagall pulls her attention back, some sort of paper shuffling filling up the pause between her words. "Well, it's nothing monumental, really, but she's just informed me that her sons will be arriving at the hotel tonight, and they'll be staying with us for a month."

"A month?" Lily's brows climb high, fingertips dancing over the cool countertop. "That's a pretty long stay."

"Yes, well." And that's it, she doesn't explain any further, and Lily figures McGonagall probably hasn't asked after the reasons behind the visit herself. And why should she, when she so rarely has to deal with some of the monsters posing as customers on a personal level? If Lily had the option, she knows she wouldn't bother either. "Macdonald must have already entered their bookings into the system. Two suite rooms. So that's taken care of. Just wanted to let you know about this beforehand because they're important guests."

Yeah, they would be.

The owners' sons.

Bloody unbearable, to be sure.

"Of course."

"Make sure everything is ready for when they arrive, and that nothing is out of place. Ask Fenwick to inform the rest of the staff, and I want you to personally check the rooms once they're prepared." Lily nods against the receiver mechanically, scribbling down notes on a pad. "But also—" the nodding pauses, "If they are, in any way or form, untoward in their behaviour, the same protocols apply to them as they do to all our guests. I've already made that clear to Mrs Potter. If there's any trouble, you know where to find me, Evans."

Lily smiles quietly. Here's one of the main reasons she admires her boss: the unflinching impartiality.

"Yes, ma'am."

She's just returned to the reception after popping into the loo for two minutes when she finds someone stood on the other side of the counter; someone rather tall, with a head of the messiest hair she's ever seen, the ink-black strands darker than the night that has fallen outside. He's facing the other way, a large suitcase placed near his feet, one elbow resting lightly on the countertop as he taps away on his phone with the other hand.

Lily unglues her eyes from the curves of a toned bicep revealed at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve, and steps forward, planting a practised smile on her face.

"Hello," she greets at the exact same moment that he presses his phone to his ear. She watches as her voice draws his attention, as he turns around, as the most captivating shades of hazel, set behind artful designer glasses, latch onto her face. His brows—just as dark as his hair—climb up on his forehead, soft-looking lips parting slightly. Oh, shite. He's fucking fit. "Good evening."

"Hi," he says, sounds a little out of it. Silence, punctuated only by the gentle lobby music, falls between them for a beat. Suddenly, his expression changes, brows pulling in annoyance, thoroughly confusing her. "No, not to you. I was—"

"Um." Lily chuckles uneasily. "Sorry?"

"Oh, no, not—" He fumbles, gestures quickly to his phone, and she flushes with understanding, nodding her head. And though he turns away from her to speak furiously into the phone, only bits and pieces of the conversation—and strange words like "bad foot"—floating over to her, Lily finds herself more than a little pleased to notice that he keeps stealing glances at her surreptitiously every other second. After a minute or so, he finally disconnects the call, turning back to her with renewed brightness in his eyes. "Hi, hello. Wow. Uh, sorry about that. How are you?"

"I—" she huffs a soft laugh, thrown by the glitz of energy. "I'm good, thank you for asking. How are you?"

"Splendid…" He leans forward, forearms resting against the counter again as he smirks at her charmingly, "…Evans."

Lily barely stops herself from rolling her eyes, but isn't able to fully temper the smile that tickles at the corners of her mouth. Subtle, he is not.

"Cheers, you've caught my name," she teases, turning to her computer screen as she brings some semblance of professionalism back into her tone. Everything feels a little too charged and quiet at this time of the night, the lobby empty save for a couple of guests passing through. "Would you mind giving me yours so that I can check for your booking?"

"Oh." He drums his fingers, restless, leaning forward even further, as if trying to peek into her screen. She purses her lips at this jittery behaviour, but waits patiently for him to give her a response. "Actually, I'm not sure if I have one."

Brilliant.

Lily turns back to him with a sigh, one brow cocked. "You're not sure?"

"Um—" He cards a hand through his hair, eyes squinting, "no?"

"How can you not be—did you give us a call, or make a booking online?"

"Nope." He grins now, entirely nonsensical, but probably not more than the urge he incites in her to smile back. "What a mess, isn't it?"

"Look," she starts—but stops almost immediately, because he looks properly thrilled to have this attention pinned on him. He's staring, and beaming, and entirely too good looking to be fair. Warmth kisses up her neck, but she continues to hold that glittering gaze. "Look, I'm not sure what you mean, but there's nothing I can do to help you if you don't have a booking here. And flirting with me certainly isn't going to help either—"

"Why not? I think it's going to help a whole lot, actually."

"Why—why not?" Lily scoffs, wonders if he's taking the piss, because he definitely looks amused enough to fit the bill. But she's not dealt with customers for literal years for nothing. Smug, shameless flirts are a challenge she's quite adept at handling—never mind the fact that her pulse isn't usually quite so eager to jump against her skin in return. So she places a palm on the counter, right next to his arm, moves closer, and tilts her head with the most steady expression she can manage. "Because this is a really fancy, expensive hotel in the middle of the city that's somehow always booked at least half a day in advance, and unfortunately for the both of us, I'm not the owner, nor the manager. And also because it's frankly inappropriate for you to flirt with me."

Much to her surprise and chagrin—and some ill-timed excitement—he only seems to grin wider at her answer, mouth stretching in evident glee, all straight white teeth and dripping self-confidence. His throat moves with the words sitting on his tongue, but before he can say anything, a voice from across the lobby stops him.

"I'm here!"

Lily looks up to find a man, somewhere near her own age, walking in through the doors with two large suitcases trailing behind him. He looks a little harrowed, despite his staggering handsomeness and the elegant black hair that he's pulled back into a ponytail. An annoyed expression of perennial brooding seems to be etched into his sharp grey eyes, and it only seems to deepen the closer he gets to the counter.

"Welcome to The Golden Stag," Lily says, feeling strangely dumb as the greeting leaves her mouth.

He spares her a glance, a nod, then promptly turns to the other man.

"I'm disappointed," he says plainly. "I smoked only half my ciggy in a rush when you asked me to stay outside longer. I thought you were trying to keep me from garlands and tropical drinks at the very least, but this is just a standard welcome—why would you…?" The question trails off, some form of silent communication passing clearly between the two of them that Lily can't even begin to decode. She's just about to turn her eyes to the computer, simply so that she can look extremely busy, when the man glances at her again, this time with piqued interest and a slow smirk. "Ah, I see. Hello, there. I'm Sirius."

She looks at him apprehensively, but smiles back. Be polite. Be nice. "Hey. I'm Lily Evans."

"Evans! Wonderful to meet you."

An awkward nod. "Likewise."

"So, about Prongs here—"

"Could you check for bookings under the names of Sirius Black and James Potter, please?"

Lily's eyes shoot up, freeze on the other man who's elbowed his way right in front of her again, looking a little flustered. The hazels positively disarm her, send her heart racing at an atrocious rate behind her chest, but the only thing she can breathe out is, "Potter? Did you just say Potter?"

"I did. James Potter. That's me." He nods, and when she continues to stare, he smiles a little sheepishly. "I think my mum might've made the booking this morning?"

With about a hundred thoughts buzzing in her mind, Lily turns away from him to furiously tap away at the keyboard. She can sense a lot more of that silent communication taking place between the two of them from her peripheral vision, but doesn't give them the satisfaction of turning around and looking. She focuses, instead, on slamming the keys that make up their last names and clicking on the two bookings that turn up with as much aggression as one can call forth when pressing a button with a finger.

"Two luxury suites for Mr James Potter and Mr Sirius Black for a duration of 30 days and 31 nights. Check out on the 1st of November. Please confirm."

"That's right," Potter says, and she doesn't look up to see why his voice sounds a little strained now. "There's a renovation going on at our flat so—"

"Great. I've checked you both in. Here—" she reaches under the desk and slides across two keys to them over the counter. "—208 and 209. You will find the WiFi password and the intercom numbers for room service, housekeeping, front desk, and kitchens inside your rooms already. Buffet breakfast starts at 7 a.m. and ends at 10 a.m, but we also have in-room dining. I'll have the bellboy bring up your luggage in a few minutes. Hope you have a pleasant stay with us."

"Thank you." Sirius Black grins, pulling a key for himself.

Lily hurriedly turns away, job done, and drags the phone towards herself to call for the bellboy. It thankfully provides her with a much-needed excuse to not interact with Potter again. Mortification still bubbles under her skin, even as she sucks in a calming breath, even as she speaks into the phone distractedly.

God, he really did live up to her expectations; acting like a massive prat, thinking he could mess with her just because he was the owner's son. He probably had a good laugh about it inwardly, the jerk.

If only he didn't have that fucking delectable jaw—

"Hey, Evans?"

Lily gasps, heart thundering as the receiver slips from her fingers, clatters down noisily. She scrambles to catch it and put it back into the holder properly before twisting around to find Potter still standing there, staring at her with his brows raised. "What are you still doing—" She winces, catches the tone a second too late. "I mean, is there something I can help you with?"

He rakes his fingers through his hair, lips twitching slightly. "Not really. I was just—I don't want you to think I was trying to make you look stupid or anything. Earlier."

"Of course, not." She shrugs. "Why would I think that?"

"Oh! Good. Good, because, I really wasn't. I just…"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Mr Potter." Lily throws him an achingly fake smile, saccharine enough to make her own stomach curdle. "It was my mistake. I should have specified if you'd made the booking or if someone else made it on your behalf, like your mother, for example. I can understand how you'd be easily confused. No harm done."

"Um, that's not—"

"Ah, yes, Alfie is here. He'll take the luggage upstairs, and you can follow him to the elevator." She gestures, with a fair bit of relief, to the blond man in question, who has appeared from the staff rooms behind her. Potter smiles a little stiffly, eyes conveying his hesitancy to let it go, still. "Have a pleasant stay," she adds for good measure, and turns back to the computer, effectively bringing an end to the conversation.

Mercifully, he leaves for his room after that.

A/N - Come talk to me on Tumblr at maraudersftw! I'm a slut for reviews xoxo