Written for the jilychallenge July 2021 over on Tumblr!

Prompt: "I'll kiss you right now to prove that I don't feel anything for you." "okay"

At breakfast, James had set out the plan to the other Marauders: get away from Hogwarts for the Easter break, spend a week at his parents' cottage in Wales, study for their NEWTs during the day and fling themselves around the beach drinking firewhiskey at night. He felt strongly that they all deserved – hell, needed – some kind of holiday. A change of scenery always helped James reset his mind, and it was dire need of resetting.

At the end of Transfiguration, a mere ninety minutes after he'd finished his eggs and bacon, Marlene bounded up to him with an expression of utmost delight. This sort of sight never failed to unnerve him. "Can't wait for this week away, Potter," she declared as he packed his bag. "I'm very much a beach person. The sea air does something to me, you know?"

"Oh," James said cleverly, and shot a frantic look back at Sirius. His friend merely gave him a friendly wave. "Right, it's just – "

"Thanks for inviting us," Marlene interrupted with a grin. "We so need this change of setting, don't we? It's going to do us all wonders, I reckon." She patted him on the arm – a gesture much more friendly than he usually received from McKinnon. "Good work."

It was only as he trailed her out of the classroom that his brain caught up with what she had said. Thanks for inviting…us.

Bugger.

Porth Tywyn was a tiny town that gazed out across the Gower peninsula, and was as Muggle as they came. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter loved that about the place: they made fast friends with the neighbours, and thoroughly enjoyed evenings in the local pub and strolls along the harbourfront. "It's just so charming," Euphemia had told James, when he'd complained, age 12, that they couldn't do any magic unless it was hidden inside the cottage. "Isn't it nice to just let go of all that and live?"

Although James didn't quite agree on that front, he could see the appeal of being by the sea. He'd spent many summers bracing himself against the cold of the water, seeing how far out he could swim before he got shouted at by his mother. When he wasn't swimming, he'd be racing around the sand, or burying his dad up to his neck, or building a sprawling sandcastle. There was a simplicity about it all that, knee-deep in exam pressures and Head Boy stress, he had longed to be reunited with.

The cottage sat near the seafront, with a front garden that stretched towards the sand dunes and a back garden that rose gently to the railway line that connected Porth Tywyn to the rest of civilisation. As they had wrestled their bags through the garden gate and up the path, Mary had declared it "so bloody cute" and it was only then, taking in the rough stone walls, windows in need of dusting, that anyone thought to ask, "how many bedrooms does it have?"

Lily Evans. Always the voice of reason.

"Well, two," James replied, shooting her a look that he hoped didn't seem nervous. He hated that she still could make him feel that way, and that she still had no fucking idea. "'Cause normally it's just me and my mum and dad."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Didn't you think of that before inviting six people along with you…?"

James worked hard not to say his desired reply: technically I only invited three people. That would go against every hosting lesson his mother had ever given him.

Sirius flung a friendly arm round her shoulder, saving him from having to say anything. "Think of it as an adventure, Evans."

"Don't think of it as an opportunity to shack up with me, Black," she replied with a wink.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He looked back over at James. "C'mon then, Prongs. We can worry about sleeping arrangements later. As fun as it is to stand around outside and look at the place…"

"Right, right…" James led the rest of the way up the path, checking over his shoulder that no one else was around – unlikely, but you never knew – before casting the spell that would let them through the wards. The pale blue door swung open. "Here we go – home sweet home."

Lily, Marlene and Mary were appropriately generous in their praise as they gave themselves an impromptu tour of the cottage. The other Marauders had been there a few times before (including a memorable week last summer when Sirius had drunk so much that he'd thrown up into one of Pete's shoes) and so took to lounging on the sofa instead.

"Look!" Mary cooed from the stairway. "Little baby Jamie!"

Remus let out an unsupportive snort. "Is that the one where he's frolicking naked in the waves?"

"Truly at one with nature," Mary agreed, appearing in the living room doorway to fix James with a grin. "Is that why you brought us here, Potter? Ply us with drink and salty sea air, try out a bit of skinny dipping?"

"I'm up for it if you are, Mac," Sirius interjected.

Lily sidled up behind Mary, looking slightly embarrassed. "Right, didn't we come here to work?"

A routine had been agreed and Lily and Remus, considered to be the only responsible members of their group (something which James resented only slightly – he was Head Boy after all), were in charge of enforcing it. They would all set to their work for a few hours each morning, stop for lunch, work a few more hours in the afternoon, and then stop for dinner and an evening of relaxation. It didn't take long for everyone to find their study spot: Lily, Remus and Mary sat at the kitchen table in a studious but companionable silence; Peter and James posted themselves on the sofas in the living room and tried not to let themselves get too comfortable; Marlene, who was clearly getting more and more stressed the closer they got to the NEWTs, hid away in the bedroom that had a desk and a view of the sea; and Sirius declared himself "a man of nature", taking himself off to burrow into the sand dunes. He said that leaping up to chase bits of parchment that were caught by the wind gave him a much-needed study break every few minutes. James knew all too well that that was about how long his friend's concentration lasted.

Although it was early April, the weather held, and they crowded in the kitchen together to gather supplies for a dinner picnic on the beach. True, he hadn't exactly invited the girls – nothing against them, of course, and nothing remotely against one in particular, although he was trying to move past that – but he realised, surveying the array of baked goods and other delicious looking food, that if they weren't here, the Marauders may well have starved. Or, less dramatically, subsisted purely on sausage rolls from the bakery on the high street. But still. Man could not live by pork encased in pastry alone.

They set out across the dunes, laden with blankets and food and, yes, firewhiskey. Somehow, he'd ended up at the back of the group with Lily. He certainly hadn't engineered it that way – if anything, he'd been trying to keep his distance these past few months, worrying he was giving himself away more with every passing day – but he wasn't unhappy with the result. The sea breeze lifted her hair, revealing the freckles that were scattered down the back of her neck, and she gazed around them with the kind of blissed-out, peaceful smile that he hadn't seen in a while. Seventh year was stressful.

"It's beautiful here," she said with a happy sigh as they clambered up another dune. "It must've been amazing, coming here every summer…"

"I'm really lucky," he agreed, reaching the summit and holding his hand out to her, to help her climb the last few feet. Those green eyes twinkled up at him as she smiled her thanks; he let go as soon as it was polite, embarrassed by the way just holding her hand made him feel.

"At last," she didn't seem to notice his turmoil, thank fuck. She was too busy gazing out across the beach, past where their friends had already set up camp and out towards the waves. She squinted, pointing out a distant, hazy landmass on the horizon. "Ooh! Is that Ireland?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Um, no, that's just…more of Wales." He reached over, gently pushing her pointed finger until she'd turned almost fully away from him. "Ireland's more…that way. Quite a long way that way."

"Oh, well," she smiled, shooting him a look, "I'm not perfect."

And with that blatant lie – if she wasn't perfect, then no one was – he just watched as she skipped happily down the bank and over to their friends.

They ate their fill; Mary tried to teach them a strange Muggle game called cricket, which James had a natural affinity for ("ever the fucking sportsman," Marlene jeered from her position on the opposing team); Sirius tried to lead a team into the shallows, forgetting that the waters around the British Isles were frigid at the best of times; Remus built a bonfire in a bid to stop said team from developing frostbite. As the sun set, the group clustered around the dancing flames, pleasantly exhausted.

After a few drinks, James felt himself relax, the tension of exams and headship and pretending not to care when Lily Evans looked in his direction drifting away with the tide. Remus sat next to him, his own attention fixed on their dark-haired friend on the other side of the circle, cackling as he told Marlene and Pete a tawdry tale. "This story is mostly a work of fiction," Moony spoke up, his voice quiet against the crackle and pop of the fire. "Pads can't help himself, can he…"

James tore his focus from Lily and Mary, heads close together, murmuring and smiling, to look at his friend. "A showman, through and through," he agreed with a smirk. "I'm just surprised Pete hasn't pointed out the factual inaccuracies yet."

"He's a generous audience."

"He's had to be, seven years stuck with me and Sirius."

Remus laughed and met James' gaze. "Seven years," he repeated thoughtfully. "And soon it'll all be over."

James nodded, although it didn't feel real. Surely every September, for the rest of their lives, they'd just congregate at King's Cross, head off to their shared dormitory, plot and laugh and be young. "Can't quite believe it."

His friend paused, studying his expression for a moment. "You look calmer," he offered. "Last week I thought you might self-combust from stress."

"I feel calmer," James allowed. "I dunno. It's not like I've ever really cared about exams before…"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know," he replied, "and yet you still score higher than almost everyone."

"I thought this was you being supportive of me," James grinned, bumping his shoulder into Remus'. "Not being a bitter old shrew."

Remus flicked some sand his way. "No reason it can't be both."

A comfortable silence fell; Remus returned his attention to Sirius across the fire, as if drawn by some other-worldly force. James watched on, so many questions that came to mind, but knowing that he wouldn't get a straight answer out of Moony. Not about this.

He sighed with contentment, tipping his head back to look at the dark sky, scattered with stars. "I'm glad we could get away for a bit."

"Me too." Remus tossed a nearby lump of dry seaweed onto the flames. "And hey, maybe this will be the time for…" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and angled his head towards their red-headed companion. "A love connection. A bit of lovely stress relief."

James gave what he hoped was a believable snort of disdain. "We're mates, Moony," he replied. "That's all. No funny business - we're past that."

"Hmm." Remus glanced over at Lily, and James couldn't help but follow his gaze. "You sure?"

James knocked back the rest of his drink. With a bit of booze in his system, he could convince himself of most things. "I'm sure." He patted Remus on the shoulder, affecting a reassuring, wise demeanour. Tricky, with four firewhiskeys under his belt. "Ancient history, mate."

"It's not easy," Mary was saying, waving a finger demonstrably. "You know?"

While James had stopped at four firewhiskeys, Mary had not. He grinned, putting a steadying hand on her arm before she toppled over completely. It had been her idea to go for a paddle, the booze and the fire making them all a bit warmer now, and James had been the only one willing to go with her. That was more to avoid a drowning on his conscience than from any desire to stand up to his ankles in freezing cold sea water. "What's not easy, Mare?"

She gestured widely with one arm. "Being so beautiful!" She swung back round to him and narrowed her eyes. "I'm not flirting with you, Potter."

"Alright," he agreed amiably. "Didn't think you were."

"Good," she watched him with a suspicious frown for a moment, then glanced back towards the group clustered round the embers of the fire. "Don't need anyone getting the wrong impression."

Merlin, he hoped he was a bit more coherent when he was plastered. When they'd waded into the water, she'd been talking about how many of Lily's butterfly cakes she thought she could eat in one sitting ("eight, I think – maybe nine, if I tried hard enough"). The conversation had veered wildly from there, covering Blackburn Rovers ("that's a Muggle football team, Jamie, keep up"), what she thought it was like in Australia ("hot and…full of snakes? Don't ever let me go there, Potter") and why she believed that Divination was a waste of time ("look! LOOK! My palm is just lines! It's madness"). James felt tired just trying to follow each thread, but he could never deny that Mary wasn't a lively conversationalist. He could only do his best to contribute at least something to each subject. "Who would get the wrong impression?"

Mary's eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh! No one," she replied, and adopted what he was sure she thought was a casual pose. "Hey, Potter?"

James gently took hold of her elbow, guiding her a few steps back from where she'd drifted into deeper waters. "Yes, Mac?"

"Do you fancy anyone?"

His gaze snapped up at that. It was very dark and she was pretty well trollied, so he was confident she couldn't see the panic and embarrassment that flashed across his face. "What? Why?"

Mary gave a little kick of her foot, watching the water flick and foam at her ankles. "Oh, just…professional curiosity."

"That doesn't make any sense," he laughed with just the slightest unease.

"Well, you know, sense is as sense does," she shrugged, grinning. "So, do you?"

He resisted the overwhelming urge to look back up the beach. "Nope," he replied. The word sounded so empty of meaning. "Having a rest from all that excitement."

Mary stared at him for a moment, as if searching his face for something in particular…whether she found it or not, he wasn't sure. Seconds passed and she just smiled again. "It is exhausting," she agreed. "Fancying someone."

Silence fell and he let himself stare out into the inky blackness of the night, the only thing to see in that direction the pale burn of the half moon catching the waves as they travelled to the shore. Exhausting was right. And never-ending. "Mare," he said at last, softly; she turned to look at him, excited, expectant. "…I'm starting to lose feeling in my toes."

She snorted with laughter, paused, before blurting, "last one back to the fire has to go up to their neck in the water tomorrow," and pelting off back up the beach.

In fairness to James, she had a head start, it was hard running on sand, and as he turned to follow her, he caught a glimpse of Lily, throwing her head back in joyous laughter at something Marlene was saying, the light of the fire making her glow, iridescent, ethereal.

Oh well. He didn't mind swimming too much.

The embers gave out their last gasp against the ever-fierce wind that came in off the sea, and the group decided that was their cue to head back to the cottage. Wisely, Marlene declared, "we need tea," and they crowded into the kitchen, warming their fingers around one of Euphemia's favourite mugs. (His mother had strong opinions about colours, shape and the delicacy of the china itself. "We're not going to sit around here and drink tea out of some clunky monstrosity, we're not heathens," she had informed James sternly last summer when he'd suggested buying some new ones.)

Clustered around the kitchen table, the matter of sleeping arrangements was finally broached. "Well," James said, dropping another sugar cube into his drink, "obviously, there's a double bed in my parents' room. A single bed in my room, but there's space, we could probably transfigure and fit in two more mattresses in there…"

"As long as you don't mind vaulting over other people to get to the loo in the night," Sirius interjected, before pausing contemplatively. "Actually, that sounds like fun."

"And then the sofa is one of those Muggle contraptions, it pulls out into a bed," James carried on. It was often best to ignore Sirius. "So two people can sleep in the living room."

"How do we decide who goes where?" Peter asked, looking slightly nervous.

One very heated game of Gobstones later, and Marlene had secured the double bed for herself and Mary ("I hope you like a cuddler," Mary had cackled, following her friend up the stairs), while Sirius – with a menacing glint in his eye, levelled at James – had declared that he would share the other bedroom with Remus and Peter. "Sleep well, Prongs!" was his parting shot, throwing one last triumphant and devious grin over his shoulder before leading the other two (traitorous, bastard) Marauders up to bed.

James swallowed. Lily met his gaze.

Silence.

Then, "so, a sofa bed?" she asked, as if this were all perfectly okay.

"Um, yes," he confirmed, grabbing his wand and turning to perform the charm that unfolded it. Funny, it had looked huge when he and Sirius and his dad had hauled it back from the charity shop on the high street last summer. Now it seemed altogether too small.

James just stood there dumbly as Lily faffed around with sheets and pillowcases and a mortifyingly floral duvet cover that he hadn't realised they owned. Finally, when everything was ready, she stood there, on the other side of the bed from him, and raised her eyebrows. "Are you…okay?"

"Me?" he asked, with all the smoothness and cool of a sack of potatoes. "Yeah, absolutely." He paused. "Are you?"

She glanced down, over at the curtains, to the fireplace – anywhere except at him. "Yes, of course," she confirmed. Another silence. "I just wanted to check that this wasn't…weird, for you."

He laughed, hearing exactly how strange his laughter sounded – fucking hell, did he always sound like that? "Why would it be weird?"

She met his gaze, one eyebrow raised dubiously. "Because of…you know."

He mirrored her expression. "You know?"

She sighed, muttering, "Christ," under her breath before she replied properly. "You know. Your…feelings for me."

There was never a hole to swallow you up when you really needed one. He hoped against hope that his face remained the same, that he wasn't – as he suspected he was, but couldn't tell, as he was having something of an out of body experience – fidgeting and twitching like a man about to lie his pants off. "I don't have feelings for you," he replied. "Other than nice, normal, friendly friend feelings."

There was a flash of something across her face, too quick to decipher. She always had been much better at controlling her emotions. "Really?"

Somehow, he'd ended up rounding the end of the bed, ambling closer to her. She was drawn to him, too, he could tell, although he couldn't say how or why or in what capacity. He could hope, of course, but he'd had seven long years of bitter experience telling him otherwise. In the dim light – just the light they'd left on in the kitchen, the rest of the room nothing but warm shadows – she tilted her face up to his. "Really," he said. He'd never meant anything less in his life. "Promise."

She pursed her lips, drawing his gaze for a moment before he forced himself to look into her eyes again. "Promise? Because…sharing a bed will be pretty awkward, otherwise." There was just the smallest strain to her voice, the edge of something. "Really pretty awkward."

"I promise," he confirmed. They'd both dropped the volume of their voices as they got closer together; he cleared his throat softly, and maybe it was the firewhiskey, distant though it was, that gave him the push to say what he said next. "I'll kiss you right now to prove I don't have feelings for you."

Lily's breath seemed to still for a moment, and James prepared himself to be slapped, or shouted at. Instead, he just barely caught her murmur: "Okay."

He couldn't help his look of surprise. "…wait, really?"

"Yeah," she agreed, almost inaudible now. Her gaze was fixed on his. "If you think this will prove we're just friends."

"It will," he murmured. "Like kissing Sirius." He blinked, paused. "No, that's not a fair comparison, he's got chemistry with a grindylow…"

"Right," she was looking at his lips, now.

"Pete," he said next, words just tumbling out, disconnected from his brain and all coherent thought. She wanted to kiss him?! "It'll be like kissing Pete. Love the bloke, I do, but he and I…no chemistry."

She smiled then, a soft smile which felt like standing in the sun. "If you say so," she agreed. "Go on, then, Potter. Lay it on me. Prove you don't have feelings for me."

Time seemed to slow as he closed the last, small distance between them, his hand moving to gently cup her jaw like he'd imagined doing so many times. From this close, he could smell her familiar, citrusy perfume, could see the blush that spread, unabated, across her cheeks. "Alright," he murmured, and leaned in to press his lips to hers.

Somehow, without planning to, his other arm came to snake around her waist, to draw her against him. Somehow, without planning to, her lips parted sweetly, deepening the kiss, stealing his breath from him – no, breath he gladly gave away. It was overwhelming, the sensation of her body pressed against his, the silk-smooth of her skin, the warmth of her, the feeling that finally, finally, maybe everything was right with the world.

He didn't know how long it lasted. He only knew they stopped because it was either that, or pass out from lack of oxygen.

They stood, clutching on to each other still, lips kiss-swollen and breath coming in heavy draws. He couldn't look away from her even if he'd wanted to.

"Oh," she said. Her gaze drifted to his mouth, unbidden. "Um…"

"Okay," he allowed, and drew in a slower, steadier breath. "So…point proven."

They paused, shared a grin – and fell back into each other's arms.

At breakfast, Sirius sidled over to James with a maddening smirk on his face. "Not so angry I invited the girls now, are you?" he taunted with a wave of his cereal spoon.

James glanced over at Lily – beautiful, blushing Lily, who'd woken him this morning with the softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever had – and grinned. "Shut up, Padfoot."