A/N - Sorry for the late update today; work ran till 1 a.m. last night (consultancy woes) and I was too knackered afterwards. And please don't come after me for any inaccuracies in hotel management etiquette after this chapter I will cry thanks

Room Service

Chapter 26

Oct 25 | Part 1

Waking up to that message from James releases the lump of tension and worry that had been steadily growing in Lily's chest over the past two days. With the bolstering thought of being able to speak to him soon and clearing the air in her mind, she goes about her daily chores with newfound enthusiasm, desperate to kill time instead of sitting in bed and overthinking the whats and hows of the situation until she drives herself insane. Mercifully enough, by the time she's cleaned the flat until it shines brighter than the sun, there are just enough minutes to spare to take a shower and rush to work.

When she enters the hotel, there's already someone at the reception Mary's attending to, so Lily quietly slips behind the counter, pins on her name tag and places down her handbag, when—

"209, you said?"

Pulse jumping against skin, she whips around at the question, watches as Mary's gaze flickers momentarily to her before returning to the woman across the desk. A closer look reveals that the guest is clearly gorgeous; dark, smooth skin; bouncy black curls pulled back into a ponytail; intelligent blue eyes; curves to kill for. She hikes the bag straps higher on her shoulder before nodding her head.

"Yes. James Potter? I'm here to visit him."

"Oh." Mary nods, voice even in a way Lily probably wouldn't be able to manage at that moment. "Name and the purpose of the visitation?"

"Dorcas Meadowes. And you can put it down as personal."

Lily turns away at that, forces her breath to relax, her mind to stay in control. This doesn't mean anything—she could just be a friend, or a cousin, or someone from work. Really, as far as she knows James, he wouldn't just… he just wouldn't.

And yet, when Mary's voice carries over to her ears again, informing the woman that she'll have to call James and check before she can let her go up, Lily feels a strange heat spreading up the back of her neck and warming her ears.

"Excuse me, I'll be right back," she chokes out, hand clamping over Mary's shoulder momentarily as she passes by. Her friend only nods, understanding pulling the corners of her mouth down.

She doesn't mean to have a full-blown breakdown in the bathroom, she really doesn't. And yet, that's how things end up—breath falling in tight, strainful pants, fingers clutching tight onto the porcelain basin, chest aching like someone's decided to ruthlessly twist her heart under their fist. Strangely enough, her eyes remain dry through it all, and after she's gotten a better handle on her emotions, Lily splashes some cold water onto her face and neck, drying off with a towel before stepping back outside. At least the heat of her skin has cooled relatively.

The woman is gone by the time she arrives at the reception again. Thank God.

"Hey, Lil. You alright?"

She brushes off Mary's concern with a small smile. "Fine."

"You know, it's probably not what it looked like—"

Teeth sinking over lip, eyes closing momentarily, she makes herself nod. "Yeah. I know."

"Okay, good," Mary sighs, shoulders slumping. "Because Potter really doesn't seem like the kind to do that."

"He doesn't," Lily agrees. And then, after a few moments of heavy silence, she turns to look at Mary with a steady stare. "I need to put an end to this."

Dark brows furrow. "An end to… what, exactly?"

"This—this uncertainty. Fear. Jealousy. Whatever… whatever I just felt right now, seeing that woman. It wasn't anything good."

"Okay," Mary says slowly, "And how are you planning on doing that?"

She blows out a breath, swallows past the constriction blocking her throat. "I just need to be honest."

"Good evening, ma'am, can I come in?"

"Evans." McGonagall looks up at the sound of her voice, thin eyebrows arching the slightest amount. "Of course. Come in. Sit. Is everything alright?"

Lily ponders momentarily about the state of her expression and how bad it must be to put the woman on edge in one glance. "Yes. I actually needed to talk to you about something a little more… personal today. Mary has agreed to stay back at the reception for a while to cover for me."

"Okay." McGonagall's expression remains blank. "Go on, then."

"I love this job," Lily begins, voice only the slightest bit unsteady, "—I love working with my colleagues, and I fully respect and appreciate the professionalism that is expected from anyone in our line of work. Before I share anything else with you, I needed to make sure that you know that. But… but despite all of that, I'm afraid I have let my emotions get in the way, however unwittingly, this past month. I'm—" get it out, get it out now, "—I have feelings for James Potter." Fuck, fuck, fuck— "I have tried, for days, to brush it off, or ignore it, and—well, anyway, it hasn't been very successful. But I understand that I may have let you down and broken the expectations from my role, and I'm ready to accept whatever decision it is that you take after hearing all this. I just hope… I hope you will consider letting me… keep my job still."

Oh Jesus.

Is her face on fire?

It feels like it's on fire.

McGonagall stays torturously silent once she gets the confession out, and fearing that it'll only make her blabber more and reveal details she has no business (or desire) revealing to her manager, a woman much older and serious than her, Lily drags her eyes up and forces herself to meet her clear stare.

"I see," McGonagall says quietly, mouth curled up contemplatively. And then: "I can't say I'm surprised. I have had an inkling of this for several weeks now."

What now?

"What—" Lily blinks, clears her throat. "What do you mean? Several weeks? Why didn't you—I mean—why wasn't I—"

"Reprimanded?"

She nods, heart thundering.

And here, McGonagall smiles—not something cunning or cruel or anything that should instil fear in Lily's heart, but rather a genuine, almost amused smile. "Evans, I have known and seen enough employees and guests in my lifetime to be able to identify when something or someone's behaviour threatens to ruin the name and reputation of a business. Your work ethic so far has been exemplary; I have seen you handle issues with such grace and patience that's rarely ever found in customer-facing roles these days. And here you sit in my office now, offering honesty and expressing concern over how I might perceive your feelings for things beyond your control. I can assure you—" she leans forward slightly, eyes bright, "—no unprofessional individual in this industry, or any other, would act even half as admirably as you have."

A breath, weighed down heavily by hope, tumbles inside her lungs. "I—I don't understand. You're not… upset?"

"I am not," McGonagall insists. "In fact, I am rather pleased, if you must know. Now I no longer have to pretend ignorance when Mrs Potter calls me to ask after you. She has been… rather enthusiastic ever since meeting you on the weekend."

"Oh." Lily sags against the chair, the relief in her throat so potent she almost feels sick. Surreptitiously, her fingers inch towards her arm, pinch the skin there to make sure she's not concocting some elaborate, fanciful dream. Apart from a slight twinge of pain, everything remains the same; same room, same manager, same unbelievable reaction. The entire conversation has turned out so drastically different to anything she's imagined, in fact, that unsticking the words from her mouth takes considerable effort. "So, um, what does that mean for me now?"

McGonagall straightens, once more sharp and formal. "I hope it means you will resume your duties as a receptionist at the hotel, and continue to contribute to work just as diligently as you have been doing so far. Beyond that, your personal life is yours entirely, and just as long as your performance, behaviour, or attitude are not being negatively impacted because of it, you are at liberty to act in your best interest."

This, she knows, is the closest thing to a blessing she can expect from her boss.

Stomping down on the urge to reach across the table-top and hug the woman through grateful sobs, Lily stands up with a sincere smile. "Thank you so much. I won't disappoint you."

McGonagall nods gently. "I know."

A few hours later, when Mary has long since left the hotel with a promise from Lily to hear about everything in detail the next day, James finally appears downstairs, dressed in dark jeans and a blue casual, full-sleeve t-shirt. A thoroughly confusing wave of emotions swirls inside her stomach when she spots him, the fleeting flash of his eyes as they fall on her, and finally when she notices the woman from earlier—Dorcas—accompanying him as they walk towards the doors of the hotel.

Lily forces herself to appear busy.

Once the goodbyes have been said, James shoves his hands inside his pockets, shoulders slightly bunched as he makes his way over to the reception.

"Hey." He's close enough for her heart to play hopscotch.

"Hey, you." She breathes, fingers fidgety against the desk. Now, with him this near, she realizes just how much she's missed him, missed that quietly intense feel of being around him, that warm scent, that steadying light of his hazel eyes. "How are you?"

"Alright." An inhale, his lungs filling with air visibly. "You?"

She shrugs. "Been better."

James's mouth tilts at that, a light frown between brows. "You—you said you wanted to talk."

"I did. Who was that?"

"That's what you want to talk about?"

"Not exactly." Lily bites the inside of her cheek, gaze relentless on him. "But I'm likely to go crazy if I don't, so here we are."

"Crazy?" he asks, left eyebrow slightly cocked. "Now, why would you feel that way, Evans? Are you jealous?"

"Yes."

He chokes on nothing, clearly not having expected her to admit this outright. "I'm—sorry?"

She laughs a little breathlessly, entirely without humour. "Of course, I'm jealous, James. You invoke all sorts of irrational feelings within me. You shouldn't be surprised."

He looks at her for several long moments, as if chewing over her words. "She's Dorcas. Just someone from work. I didn't go into office today, but there were some reports we had to go through." Now he shifts closer, arms on the counter. In a low voice, "So? You wanted to talk."

"Yeah," Lily whispers. "Not here."

"Then where?"

"Um. Upstairs?"

Eyes glitter behind glasses. "Give me some time? The lads are still here?"

"Hm." She smirks softly, turns away from him. "Give the reception a call, Potter. I hear you're rather good at that."