A/N - Had a lot to edit in this chapter. It's relatively long. Hope you enjoy!

Room Service

Chapter 18

When the alarm on her phone goes off around eleven a.m., Lily is already awake to greet it. Fingers slide over the bed sheet, numbly turn off the incessant sound, before she slips under the covers again, hollowness carving a large hole in her chest, spreading up her throat and mouth until it rests on her tongue, threatening to devour her completely. She sighs, rubs a hand under eyes that she knows must look puffy and bruised with sleepless bags underneath. Perhaps the best thing would be to call in sick to work today…

Just as soon as the thought forms in her mind, the buzz of her phone vibrating pulls her attention, Petunia's name flashing dauntingly on the screen. With another loaded exhale, she presses the accept button.

"Morning, Tuney."

"Oh, thank God, you're up," Petunia says, voice already snapping with briskness on the other end. "We have lunch at two. Hope you haven't forgotten."

"I haven't."

"Good. And can you please bring some aspirin on your way over, Lily? My head is positively splitting open."

"Sure, will do."

"Alright." A pause follows, and Lily thinks that's the end of the conversation, right before her sister speaks again. "Are you… okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You sound rather subdued. You didn't even make a wisecrack about my stress levels and the aspirin. Generally, you never let go of the chance to make fun of me."

"I don't always make fun of you," Lily tries feebly, a smile almost twitching at her lips, fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the bed. "I'm fine, Tuney. Just knackered from work. I'll be there on time, don't worry."

"Okay. And for Christ's sake, don't fall asleep, please!"

Once the call disconnects, she lies on her mattress for several long seconds after, mind replaying the scene in the hallway like some broken record she can't fix. There are no tears left to shed, nothing to do around here but to wallow in the aching silence of her empty flat. It engulfs her, stretches out inside her like hands making space for nothing but the unwelcome void.

No, this won't do.

The distraction of work, she knows, is much preferred to this.

Lily pushes off the covers and drags herself to the bathroom.

WhatsApp Private Chat

James Potter to Lily Evans

18/10/2021 02:43 p.m.

xxxxxx

James: Evans! Hello! Hi!

Lily: James

James: Ignoring that dry as all hell greeting

What are you doing?

Lily: Wedding planning lunch with Petunia

Aren't you supposed to be at work?

James: Mhm sure

Are you coming to the hotel today?

Lily: Yes

James: Okay

Don't bring coffee

Lily: Rather random request Potter

Why not?

James: Trust me

Lily: Um

James: Trust me

Lily: Why does that feel even more ominous?

You better not be trying to take me out for coffee with you

James?

James

James: That's not what I was trying to do

Lily: Mhm sure

"What are you smiling at?"

Lily looks up at the question, brows arched in surprise when she realizes that a grin—a proper, genuine thing—has spilled over her mouth unwittingly. Petunia's curiously inquisitive gaze makes her clear her throat, shut her phone, and pick up the spoon before her.

"Nothing at all," she says, attention once again focused on the bowl of soup in front.

He's sitting on one of the lavish couches of the lobby with his laptop propped on his thighs when she enters The Golden Stag that evening.

Thanks to the light drizzle of rain outside, she rushes through the doors and past the space without taking note of him initially. And even afterwards, with the discomfort of a large rock resting on her chest and the burden of a mind lost in faraway thoughts, she barely has the energy to pay attention to her surroundings, to do more than return Mary's warm, supportive hug when her friend greets her behind the desk with a gentle gaze.

"Hi, love. Are you alright?"

Lily pulls back with an unconvincing smile. It shouldn't be a surprise that Mary already knows, given the fact that Benjy had made her go home last night right after she'd come downstairs, and the whole matter must have undoubtedly been reported to the staff by now. Still, she doesn't really want to get into it now—or ever.

"As alright as can be."

Mary understands. Brown eyes kind, she gives her another hug, this one tighter. "I'm here if you need me, okay?"

Throat constricting. "Thank you, Mare."

"Of course. And by the way, um," whispers Mary right before pulling back, a quirk to her mouth. "Potter's been here for an hour."

Lily blinks. "What?"

"Couch. Near the windows. One hour." She squeezes her hand. "See you later, Lil."

Lily nods distractedly as Mary leaves, eyes already sweeping over the room until she notices him from across the lobby right where Mary indicated, and a light buzzing erupts under her skin. Locating him is made even easier thanks to the unrelenting gaze James has already pinned on her, lips pulled into a soft smile as he gives her a short wave.

Lily considers him for a beat—worn-out jeans, light blue jumper, unruly hair, dark specs—and bites on the inside of her cheek, torn, before eventually relenting; she looks at him straight, leans slightly against the counter, and curls her forefinger inward; a clear ask for him to join her.

The smile on his face brightens, and with the intensity of that feeling just a tad too much, she turns to the computer, quickly signing in and checking for updates as she waits for James to approach. For all her efforts, she gets past no farther than the first booking because of how painfully acute the anticipation twisting in her belly is. And though she doesn't turn around to check, her mind somehow picks up on his nearness even before his form appears in her line of vision.

There's no greeting from him, not even a single "hello."

Instead, a tall Starbucks cup is slid across the counter towards her.

"What's this, then?"

"It's coffee, Evans," he says, and when she looks up at him, finally, he clicks his tongue noisily. "Thought you'd recognize the stuff considering how religiously you bring it to work every day."

The rock on her chest sways slightly under the force of his blinding brightness. It's like trying to hold onto winter gale under the blaze of summer sun. Still, the smile that blooms on her face feels half-hearted, even as she says, "Is that why you asked me to not bring my own tumbler?" He doesn't answer, simply nudges the cup forward again. "Why, though?"

"Why what?"

"What's in it for you?"

"In it for me?" James gasps, dramatic as anything. Lily rolls her eyes, turning back to the computer with a shake of her head to suppress the affectionate flutter flaring inside her chest at his ridiculous antics. "Could I not just want to do something nice for you out of the goodness of my heart?"

And though she knows that the answer to that question—if one were being unflinchingly sincere and honest—is most likely in the affirmative, she's not entirely oblivious to what he's trying to do. But it wouldn't be the nicest thing to steer the conversation into sombre waters when he's clearly attempting to cut through the darkness that still lingers around her shoulders.

"Here's another question," she makes herself say, tone light enough to match his, "could you not just answer anything straight?"

James beams, and it's only then that she realizes that… that by bantering and pushing her buttons, he's not trying to make her forget about yesterday, not entirely, because it's not possible to forget; he's actually just trying to bring her back into herself in the best way he knows. The knowledge sends something strange clanging through her insides; something stronger than she'd like; something heavier than the passing fancy she'd thought she held for him.

It hits her like a ton of bricks to the face: she's in deep. Not just for his charm or his face or how attractive she finds him anymore. But for him, the whole of him—how he has never once pushed back against what she's wanted, how it's been so fucking easy to be herself around him, how obstinately he's been there for her, in more ways than she's realized until now.

It's… terrifying.

Hints of panic must have seeped into her pallor, because the lightest of creases forms over James's forehead, the concern fleetingly evident, before he schools his mouth back into his crooked grin, and actually answers her. "Fine, you caught me. I was hoping you'd have the coffee with me—" Lily arches a brow here, "—as friends, Evans, Jesus, it's like you don't trust me at all!"

"Around myself? I don't."

"Hm. Wise."

And here's when she loses the battle; a soft breath of laughter falls from her lips, tumbling out before she can sensibly reign it in. James looks quite akin to a soldier who's conquered war, and she plants her palm on the counter, peering right at him and smiling through the words. "I can't have coffee with you, Potter. I have work to do. Now, get out of here, please."

"That's terribly rude, you know. Customer delight. Valuable guest. Satisfaction. Coffee—"

"Why aren't you at work?" She breaks through his nonsensical spiel with another string of laughter. "It's a Monday, isn't it?"

"Decided to work from home today." He shrugs. "Office is pretty flexible about that, since most of our stuff is handled virtually anyway."

"And um—" Her eyes flick up, once. "Any particular reason you're sitting in the lobby and working from home?"

The slow smile that spreads over James's lips, then, is nothing short of a cruel strike on her waning mental peace. "Like you don't know," he says, almost whispers, the tips of his fingers brushing over her knuckles as he pushes the forgotten coffee cup even closer to her hand. "Don't let it get cold." And then he pulls back, fingers running through the back of his hair, eyes flittering unsurely between hers like he's debating something. "Will you—"

The ring of the intercom cuts his question off, and Lily isn't able to determine whether she's upset about the interruption or grateful for it. With the way her heart thunders behind her ribcage as she rushes to pick the call, she assumes it's a confusing mixture of the two. "I—um—I have to take this."

He nods, licks his lips. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah." She watches him walk back to the couch for two selfish seconds before picking up the noisy handset. "Front Desk. Lily Evans here."

"Evans." It's McGonagall, voice business-like, as usual. "Wasn't expecting you to be in today. Do you have a minute?"

"Good evening. You asked for me?"

McGonagall looks up at her voice, indicates a hand to the chair across from her. "Sit, please, Lily. Would you like a biscuit?"

The shock of hearing the woman call her by her first name is immediately buried under the surprise unearthed by the following question as Lily takes a seat, eyeing the box of biscuits McGonagall extends to her. "Oh. Thank you."

She nods, hands folding in front as Lily chews around a bite. "Everything good around reception? Any problems?"

Lily has more than just an inkling about where this conversation is going, and she'd rather they get to the point already. "Uh, yes, of course. Everything's fine. Is there anything specific you needed me to do?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that." A sigh filters past her lips. "Evans, I was just… informed about last night from the Room Service team. About Antonin Dolohov. I heard you had to remove him from the hotel premises."

She swallows down nausea, sits up straighter against the chair.

"Yes, we did."

"Are you feeling alright? You can take some time off if you need, you know. I was hoping you would take the break, actually."

Lily places down the remaining biscuit, a sudden bout of tension clogging up her throat. "No, I—I'm okay." A deep, grounding breath. "And I'm sorry for not being able to handle things better on the one day you weren't around."

"Evans—Lily. You have nothing to be sorry for. Just because you work in this hotel does not mean you leave your pride and self-respect at the door when you clock in. I've said it before and I'll say it again; the protocols are the same for everyone. If Dolohov was misbehaving with you, and I fully believe that he was, then I would have been disappointed if you hadn't made him leave. Is that understood?"

She turns her face away slightly, fingers swiping at the tears that have gathered in her eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

McGonagall's expression softens. "I want you to feel safe in your workplace, Lily. I have already banned Mr Dolohov from the hotel permanently, and also sent across emails informing about his repugnant behaviour to many of my colleagues in the industry. Although I cannot guarantee it, he will hopefully find himself short on a few options of luxury lodging."

Lily listens silently, doesn't trust herself to speak.

"I had to share the news with Mrs Potter, of course. I hope you understand." She nods. "And she's of the mind that, if you want, we can press charges against the man. Any negative publicity on the hotel will be handled, no problem. But the decision is entirely up to you. We're here to support you no matter what."

Palms rubbing down face, Lily draws in a shuddering breath. Admiration, like she's never felt before, bursts inside her chest for both the women, and she lets the honesty flow out: "You have already done so much more than I could have asked for, and I'm incredibly grateful. But I—I really just want to forget this. Maybe that's cowardly of me, but—"

"It's not," McGonagall says, voice firm. "It's not an experience worth reliving, especially not when you might have to recount and convince others of the truth. I understand."

"Thank you," Lily sniffs. "Really, I—thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for either. If anything, you should extend your gratitude to James Potter. I was told he had a role to play in helping you out yesterday?"

"I—yeah." She bites her lip. "He did."

"Good to know being the owner's son hasn't automatically inflated his head, then."

Lily lets out a watery laugh, noticing the smile in McGonagall's words. If she didn't know better, she'd think the woman was almost… joking. "Oh, I have no doubt he has an inflated head, but it's got nothing to do with the hotel. No, he's—" she rubs her lips together, wondering if it's too incriminating to let the words out. "He's a really good bloke."

"I see," says McGonagall, tone level but somehow still loaded. Some sort of a knowing light glitters in her clear eyes. Lily's heart pounds, suddenly terrified that she's going to be reprimanded for showing such blatant affection for a guest. But then: "In that case, I insist that you thank him properly."

A relieved breath whooshes out of her lungs, and she loosens her fists against her lap upon realizing that her knuckles had turned white with tension. "I will."

"Good. And Evans?"

"Yes?"

"I mean it. Let me know if you need to take some time off."

Lily spends a second to consider the offer again; makes a decision. "Actually—is it alright if I take a half-day today?"

McGonagall smiles. "Certainly."

Work beckons once she returns to the reception; with a well-formed routine already in place, Lily goes through the system, updating all the bookings, check-ins and check-outs. A quick scan down the screen shows that they aren't expecting any more new guests for the night, and when the coffee cup James had left for her on the counter falls in her line of sight again, she bites the inside of her cheek, fleetingly looks up to see him still seated on the couch, immersed in work.

Contemplation takes up two seconds.

Then she makes her way into the kitchens.

"Hi!"

Hazel eyes snap up, fingers pause in their typing, lips part in surprise. "Hello."

"Um… can I sit?" She nods her head towards the empty space beside him. "Or, I can come back later if you're busy with work—"

James instantly scoots over, laptop lid snapping shut. "What work? What busy?"

She shakes her head, sitting down.

Fucking charmer.

"Here—" Lily extends the cup she's brought back from the kitchens, now filled with re-heated coffee, and keeps the second one for herself. "I halved it so we could share."

He looks at her a bit strangely. "I got it for you, Evans."

"I know, but it doesn't matter. Just—"

"No, I don't—"

"James."

"No, Lily, I really—"

"Take it, or I'm leaving," she scolds, pushing it forward until he huffs, petulantly reaches out, warm hands brushing over hers during the exchange and sending her stomach tumbling. "See? Wasn't so hard. I thought I'd take you up on your offer of having coffee together—as friends, of course."

"Of course." He allows amusedly, watching as she lifts her cup to her mouth to take a sip. "Done with work, then?"

"Mm, not really. Work never ends here, does it?"

"And yet, you're sitting here drinking coffee with your new best friend. Why's that, Evans?"

Lily rolls her eyes, crosses one leg over the other. An unanticipated consequence of it: James's eyes fly straight to her knees for a beat, return back to her face, not even a twitch in his expression. "Well, we're not expecting any check-ins tonight, I can hear the telephone perfectly from here if it rings, and anyone who approaches the reception will be easy to spot. So, I figured I might as well bestow my presence upon you while you're down here."

"Ah. It was something of an afterthought, then?"

"Precisely," she teases. James nods his head, good-humoured, smile still on his lips. Even so, she spots a strange flicker in his eyes, one that diminishes her own amusement. "Hey." She reaches out her free hand to place it on his forearm. "You know that I'm only joking, right?"

He looks startled for a second, like he didn't expect her to call out—or probably even notice—the dimming of his energy. And when he tilts his body towards her, opens his mouth, Lily thinks he'll brush the question off casually. However, after a measured pause, he asks, "You are?"

"Obviously, James." She pulls her hand back. "You can't—I mean, come on, you can't possibly not know by now that I… that I like spending time with you."

She's expressed probably not even ten per cent of the whole truth here, but from the way James's entire demeanour shifts at her words, the way his face brightens, his throat bobs, she might as well have turned herself inside out for him, emotions stripped naked for his appraisal.

"I knew that," he says, softer than she expected. "Just didn't think you'd ever admit it."

"Oh." She takes a sip of her coffee, tries to hide her burning face behind the rim. What the hell is she supposed to say to that?

"Your hair's wet."

Lily blinks. "Sorry?"

"You hair—" his fingers reach out, as if to stroke a light path over a strand—but he doesn't, lets his hand flop back down. "It's darker than usual. Damp."

"Yeah, um—I got caught in the rain, so."

"Right," he says, and fuck, the space between them feels dangerously charged all of a sudden. "I like spending time with you, too, by the way."

"Yeah." She chuckles. "I'm not surprised by that."

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

His chest rises with a deep inhale, eyes overwhelmingly sincere behind glasses. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, and I hope—I hope he rots in fucking hell for what he tried to do."

She takes a moment to push back against the emotion ballooning in her throat again, and manages a small smile. "Thank you. Not just for now, but for all of it. Yesterday."

"No need for that. Anyone decent would've done it in my place." He watches her carefully. "Are you sure you're okay to work today? Could've taken a break."

"I am. I mean, I will. Just here for half a day."

"Oh. When do you leave?"

"Whenever I'm done having coffee with my new best friend."

"Ah," James smirks, looking like he has a lot to say about that, but for some reason, he stays quiet; just lets his hand envelop hers around the cup for a beat, the touch warm and reassuring. Lily revels in the glow expanding inside her chest for several quiet moments after, unable to truly take her gaze off of him for more than a few seconds. She wonders if he senses her stare, even as he reopens his laptop and attends to an urgent call—he must, she thinks, because she's not being too subtle about it. But neither of them acknowledges it, a fact that she's eternally thankful for since she's not yet ready to properly work out the consequences of falling for him.

And she is.

Falling.

Too much. Too fast.

It's only several minutes later, when she has effectively spent more than an acceptable amount of time in his presence, and she rises from the couch to leave, that she notices James's cup sitting on the table in front, still full. "Uh… why didn't you drink the coffee?" She rounds on him, lips pinched together.

"Erm—" He runs a hand through his hair, smiles sheepishly. "I actually don't drink coffee. Loathe the stuff. Tea person through and through."

Lily opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again. "I—" A rush of laughter spills out, disbelieving and fond. "What the hell, Potter? Why didn't you say anything?!"

"I tried to!" James insists, now snickering himself. "But you started threatening to leave if I didn't take the damned cup, and then it became too late to bring it up again, so—"

"My God, you're such a pushover!"

He gasps. "I'm not! You take that back."

"Oh, but you totally are! I would've hardly killed you if you'd—" her voice breaks off at the sound of the phone ringing at the front desk. She sighs, picking up the still-full cup from the table. "Well, that's my cue! Thanks for the company, James. I—uh, I had fun."

She's already three steps away when he responds. "Oi, Evans!" She looks over her shoulder, brows arched. "If I'm a pushover—and I'm still not admitting that I am one—but if I was, it'd only be for a select few people. Hope you know that."

The smile that spreads across her face, then, is impossible to hold back.

"I know."