we're over a hundred thousand words now! this is such a big milestone for the story, and i can't believe i made it here. there's a bit of a large exposition in this chapter, but i couldn't bring myself to cut any of it. hope you all love this chapter, it's been one of my favorite to write :))


.: Chapter Fifteen: New Year's Eve Pt. I :.

"There is nothing rational about love. Love stutters when it gets nervous, love trips over its own shoelaces. Love is clumsy, and my heart refuses to wear a helmet." – Rudy Francisco

Darkness had long since fallen, the stars peeking through the clouds, and Lily had been staring at her open closet door for the past hour—contemplating the conundrum that she'd found herself in: dressing for a New Year's Eve party at James Potter's home.

Narrowing down her admittedly small wardrobe into something that screamed "Fancy!" was as difficult a task as any—she actually found herself wishing she could replace this task with a mountain of Arithmancy homework, and then she felt slightly crazy. The normal holiday dress she broke out for all her family functions was currently draped over the back of her desk chair, and she honestly would've donned that if—well, if James hadn't already seen her in it on Christmas day. And that's not to say Lily was dressing for James, but she wanted to look nice, and she was far enough down the rabbit hole of her crush that she could admit to wanting him to think she looked nice too.

Taking into account that Monty told her tonight was an excuse to dress up, and the fact that the quality of his clothes on a normal day were worth enough to purchase a small estate, she was almost positive that he meant tonight was a "black tie" event—or whatever the Wizarding World equivalent was. In proportion to her everyday clothes, she did own a rather large amount of quasi-fancy dresses courtesy of her Aunt Dahlia. Twice a year, her wealthy aunt sends her a 'care package' full of sweets and, if she's lucky, a beautiful piece of clothing from some new foreign destination. She was trying to decide between two of those dresses now.

One dress was black and fell all the way to the floor in a single sheet of smooth fabric. The small black beads woven into the mesh of the arms and chest made it look like the ocean at night—dark and intimidating and dangerous, but also rippling and full of life. She'd yet to wear this ensemble anywhere because its open-back design seemed too risqué and adult for her—she almost felt like she was a little girl playing dress up in her mother's closet whenever she thought about putting it on. The other option was much safer design wise, but no less beautiful. It fell just past her knees in flowing waves of dark green fabric, and it set off the color of her eyes perfectly. She had fallen in love with it immediately. She'd worn this dress to a wedding the summer before and knew if she paired it with gold bangles and black tights, she'd look regal and sophisticated.

Risking a glance at the clock, she was startled to see how much time had actually passed since she'd gotten out of the shower—her hair had even managed to dry on its own (which was a feat, considering how thick it was).

Sighing, and giving in to defeat, she called out, "Mum! Can you come here for a second?"

Her mother—swathed in her worn, baby blue bath robe and with only half of her hair straightened—peeked her head around the corner of Lily's door.

"Yes, love?" she asked.

"Help," Lily said simply, gesturing helplessly to the two dresses hanging from her closet door.

"Hmm," her mother hummed, stepping fully into the room and placing a hand on her hip in only the way that mothers could pull off. Her eyes narrowed at the garments, and she hummed again. "Try the black one on. I want to see how it looks on you."

As her mother perched on the end of Lily's bed, Lily pulled off her sweater—or rather, James's sweater but who was really paying attention? —and shimmied into the black dress. Lily had tried it on before, of course, but she was still surprised by how breathable the fabric was, considering that it clung to her torso like a second skin before flowing gently from just above her hips. She managed to zip it all on her own, but she backed up to her mother to have her slide home the two small buttons at her neck.

Lily faced her mother, the dress swirling gently around her ankles, and extended her arms in a powerless action. "Well?"

"Oh, Lily," her mother whispered. "You look so grown up."

"But do I look like I'm trying too hard? I don't want to look silly."

"You do not look silly, dear. It's perfect," she replied, standing up and guiding her daughter to face the mirror in the corner of the room. Her mother smoothed down the sides of the dress and held Lily's hair off her neck with one hand in a makeshift up-do. "You look so much taller, too. This dress makes up for what my family's genes took from you."

Lily laughed, and she felt all her anxiety about the night flow out of her with it.

"Can you do my hair?" she asked.

.:..:.

The drive to James's house had just hit the hour-and-a-half marker, and Lily's legs were getting restless—the need to get up and walk around was flowing like hot lava through her veins. Her father had mapped out the entire route the night beforehand, and that information was now stored safely inside his brain as they wound down country lanes that seemingly had no end. Monty had offered to Apparate her whole family, but Lily had politely declined, knowing that it would be hard enough to get Petunia to agree to attend this party without throwing in a foreign form of travel that was likely to make her nauseous.

Thankfully, Petunia had agreed to come, and Lily was still surprised every time she looked to her right and saw her sister sitting there, staring out the window with her normal blank expression. Her sister, though now nearly smothered by a heavy winter coat, was wearing a soft pink dress with a simple silk sash tied around the waist—also courtesy of Aunt Dahlia. Lily used to envy the color of her sisters' hair, and those feelings came bowling back as Lily admired the dramatic up-do Petunia's hair was twisted into. Her simple diamond earrings (a Christmas gift from Vernon) adorned her ears, and the silver charm bracelet she'd worn since she was fifteen was hooked around her wrist. She looked very pretty.

Her mother was the picture of grace in her blue dress. It was the finest piece of clothing that her mother owned, and Lily had only ever seen her wear it twice before. Her white kitten heels were from another generation of style, but they complemented her personality well. Her short hair was pin straight and she clutched a beaded cotton shawl in her lap that she would later wind around her shoulders.

Her father, as usual, pulled out the only "monkey" suit that he owned and simply matched his tie and pocket square to the color of his wife's dress. His cuff links were simple and slightly worn, having been passed down from his grandfather. Her mother had slicked back his greying hair, and he looked quite smart. Lily knew that his Muggle suit would be one-of-a-kind at this event, and it was likely that he would get a kick out of the other men's dress robes.

Her family had never gotten this dressed up to go to a party before, and Lily was feeling rather excited about what the night would hold. There was also something about looking fancy that made her feel quite powerful.

"Do you think this is it?" her father asked twenty minutes later. Leaning over the center console, Lily eyed the heavy wrought iron gate. Her attention snagged on the ornately carved crest that dominated the center of said gate, and she recognized the design from the various doodles that James was known to pen in the margins of his notes and the corners of test papers.

"Yeah, this is it," Lily confirmed.

The gates, obviously magical, creaked open almost silently as their truck pulled closer to them. The house wasn't yet visible as they crept through the gate, and the driveway winded around a few massive oak trees before the yard opened up before them. Both Lily and her mother gasped at the sight.

"Holy hell," her father murmured.

"I knew he had money," Lily said, awe in her voice. "Everyone knows the Potters are wealthy, but this… this is rich rich. Like 'I sleep on thousand-dollar sheets and buy new ones instead of washing them,' rich."

The house before them was huge, and it had the distinct energy of 'old money.' When James was younger and his ego was significantly larger, he did a lot of bragging about the money that his family had, and you couldn't go two hours without hearing that his family was wealthy—the money both inherited and earned. This really was much more than she expected, however. The entire manor was built of grey brick and there was a smattering of glowing windows across the front—more than she cared to count at the moment, but enough to make it a significant observation. It was dark enough outside that most of the building was lost to the night, but the twinkling lights suspended along the drive and up the walkway gave it an ethereal feel. It was a really beautiful house.

Putting the truck in park at the end of the driveway, Lily and her family clambered out and made their way up the rest of the walkway on foot. The larger-than-normal wooden front door swung open before they even reached it, and both of James's parents welcomed them happily over the threshold.

Both of the Potters were smartly dressed, and Lily let out a breath, happy and relieved to see that the dress code was just as fancy as she'd thought it'd be. Mrs. Potter's dress robes were a beautiful lavender fabric, and the woman had a sparkling circlet of diamonds woven into her greying-red braid. Lily was also surprised to see that Monty was sporting his own jewelry: a single sapphire earring dangling from his left lobe on a golden chain. That, and the matching azure colored robes, offset his dark skin wonderfully.

"Welcome, welcome," Mrs. Potter greeted, ushering them further into the foyer. "You look absolutely stunning, Rose. I see where Lily gets her looks! And this young lady must be Petunia?"

Her sister nodded, and Lily tried to hide her surprise when Petunia extended her hand unprompted and shook their hosts' hands in acknowledgement.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you all," Monty said. "I'm James's father, Fleamont—but please, for the love of everything, call me Monty."

He had a jovial smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, that matched that of his son's, as he shook her father's hand and kissed her mother's knuckles.

"Let me take your coats," he offered, draping the garments over his arm. He called out, "Ellie!" and a small house-elf appeared to take the coats from his arms. "Thank you, my dear."

"You's wished to be informed when the young master Sirius found the Dom Pérignon?"

"How long ago?" Mia asked, and if Lily wasn't mistaken, that was excitement in her voice.

"Ellie catches him ten minutes ago, Missus," the house-elf replied, speaking in third person the way that Lily had always found adorably endearing.

"Thank you, my dear," Monty repeated. As soon as the house-elf Disapparated, Mia rounded on her husband and let out a triumphant shout.

"That's a new record!" Mia exclaimed. "It's not even ten yet!"

"And that was a good hiding place too," Monty grumbled. "Of course, I never should have bet against you, as you have a sixth sense about these things."

Lily started laughing when she realized they'd had a wager about how soon Sirius would find the champagne.

"Come, come," Mrs. Potter said, turning back to Lily and her family with a celebratory grin on her rouge-painted lips.

Her mother and sister's eyes were about bugging out of their heads as they stared at the place the house-elf had disappeared from only thirty seconds before, but the Potters didn't seem to notice their bewildered expressions as they began talking again. Her dad looked at her though, surprise clouding his features and a question in his eyes.

"They're called 'house-elves'," Lily informed quietly. "They're like servants, and they do a lot of cooking and cleaning—very loyal to their host family."

"Weird," was all he said as he turned back to their hosts.

"–and most of our guests arrived via Floo, so we didn't think to prepare this area of the house for anyone's eyes but our own." Mrs. Potter chuckled. "These rooms are where we spend the majority of our time as a family, though I know my boys get up to all kinds of mischief in the west wing. I reckon if I cannot hear them, then I might as well leave them to their own devices."

"Boys?" Rose asked. "You have more children than just James?"

"Not biologically, no," Monty replied, a sad note to his words. "But one of James's friends was in need a home, and we were more than happy to take him in. He's been like a son to us since we'd first met him, but now that it feels so much more official, it would feel wrong—a disrespect to him, even—not to call him one of ours."

"That's very magnanimous of you," Edward acknowledged, nodding in the way that fathers do when they're both surprised and proud.

"It's the least we could've done," Mrs. Potter replied. "He's a good boy, and we have more than enough room—both in home and in heart—to take him in."

Taking the natural end of this conversation by the reins, her mother complimented, "You have a beautiful home, Mia. I should have expected it would be as grand as you."

"You're too kind, Rose." A pretty blush stained Mrs. Potter's cheekbones. "This is where Monty grew up, but I've had a couple decades to add my own touches to the place."

"And thank Merlin for that," Monty added, gently brushing his hand across the small of his wife's back and taking them around another bend in the hallway. "My mother had horrid taste in décor, rest her soul. The number of taxidermy animals and lace doilies I had to remove from the drawing rooms when she passed away was actually terrifying."

Her father laughed at that, and even Petunia cracked a reluctant smile.

"Was that a truck you—uh, drove here, Edward?" Monty asked.

Her father, however, was too busy looking around at the high ceilings of the hallway (likely looking for the source of light like Lily herself had done just a few days ago) to hear Monty's question. Lily nudged him with her elbow.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you drove here?" Monty repeated.

"Oh, yes—yeah, I've had that beauty for years. It wasn't too long of a drive, either," Edward replied, clearing his throat.

"And Lily mentioned that you work on them? That your profession is a—uh—mechanic?" Monty wondered.

"That's right," her father said, standing a little taller as if preparing to hear a demeaning comment about his choice of career. (Lily could seriously fucking strangle Vernon.)

"That's fascinating!" the other man exclaimed, and Edward settled, his hackles lowering. "You must explain to me how they work. I'll introduce you to some colleagues from the Ministry that are even more interested in Muggle inventions than I am—honestly, they put me to shame. I'd never seen Winston smile so large as he did when I informed him that we were going to have a Muggle family in attendance tonight."

"You work in government?" Lily's mother asked.

"Good Godric, no," he denied vehemently. "Those tossers? They don't know their arse from their tea kettle!"

"Fleamont!" Mrs. Potter scolded, though both Lily and her father laughed.

"Apologies, madams," he said, nodding to Lily's mother and sister before continuing with a smile. "No, I don't work in government, but I do some occasional consultant work for different departments. I'm a potioneer, actually—or rather, I used to be, but I haven't spent a full day in the laboratory since James was born. I spent most of my youth attempting to invent a hair potion that was capable of taming the rats' nest that inhabited my head. I managed to finally get the formula right in '25, even though there's still this tricky bit about redheads not being able to use it—which, of course, Mia believes I did on purpose just to thwart her—and I sold the formula when James was born, so I could spend all day at home with him and Mia. And, as you can see, I shorn my hair to the scalp at about the same time I sold it, so I never have to use the stuff anyway."

"In 1925? Really?" her father asked, raising his eyebrows. "I wasn't even born 'till '29 and you'd already gone and invented things."

Monty laughed. "Yes, well, I'm getting on in years, even if I don't always act like it. I was fifty-five when we had James—we had tried for years to have children, but to no avail—everything we tried was unsuccessful. James was the most delightful surprise that either one of us has ever had."

"Have you been told why it was difficult for you to conceive?" Rose asked, her voice full of sympathy.

"Sadly, no one had to tell us," Mia said. "We knew that it'd likely be hard before we'd even been wed. It's just something that happens in Pureblooded families—and Monty and I both come from a long line of Pureblood wizards. There's a lot of inbreeding that occurs in these circles—in order to keep the line completely 'pure' there are only so many options for a spouse. Especially considering that most marriages are arranged between families for money or standing no matter how close the relation—our own grandparents were first cousins. Anyway, it just makes it harder for us to conceive. Now we have Sirius, though, so we're one step closer than we ever thought we'd be to filling this giant house with children like we'd always wanted to."

"When you say–?" her mother began.

"Wait!" Lily cut in, finally piecing together the facts in her mind. "You invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion? I've been thinking, and that was the only big potions company that sold in 1925!"

"I did," Monty said, nodding proudly. Their group came to a stop outside another set of double doors, and Lily could hear music and laughter emanating from behind the wood.

"I had no idea that was you!" Lily gasped. "That's amazing! I've read all your articles about the regeneration of Gomas Barbadenis in last year's potions class. I thought it was so interesting! I can't believe I didn't connect the dots and figure out that that was you! Later, I'll have to pick your brain about your opinions on different dragon scales having different properties."

"I'm looking forward to it!" he insisted, giving her a very fatherly smile. "James has told me that you're quite the whiz at potions, but I had no idea you were interested in theory."

"Alright, you two." Mrs. Potter smiled. "You can geek out over this later. Let's get to the party, shall we?"

Lily, although much wanting to talk more with Monty, conceded and gave a sheepish grin to her mother and father.

The room that they had been led to was a ballroom that Lily associated with the dramas on the telly and the princesses in the movies. It was a wide-open space with darkly polished wood floors, and heavy oak tables covered in white linen and trays of food that lined the walls. There was a band situated in one corner, elevated just a little above what she assumed was the dance floor, and soft classical music emitted from their instruments. Two crystal chandeliers hung in the middle of the room, and they were so bright and modern looking that Lily almost expected them to be powered by electricity, but she could just make out the small flames dancing on their wicks.

Her attention was then drawn to the back wall of the room because she realized that it wasn't a wall at all, but rather a series of large sheets of stained glass. Backlit from the outside, the multitude of colors were perfectly illuminated and reflecting softly off the ceiling and hardwood—it was subtle enough that it wasn't distracting, but noticeable enough to be beautiful. The mosaic of colors were bisected by a set of clear glass French doors that were propped open with two small pine trees shrouded in white twinkling lights. Lily couldn't feel any drafts of cold air, and she reasoned there was a rather advanced warming charm in place.

Taking in the small crowds of witches and wizards, Lily saw people of all shapes and colors mingling around the room. Lily watched a tall dark-skinned woman, with a beautiful cerulean headpiece and a train of skirts that flowed behind her, part the crowd like water—turning heads from all directions. She then caught sight of a short plump woman in a dark set of male dress robes laughing jovially with a tiny group of children. Her gaze also snagged on a skinny man, whose height rivaled that of Hagrid, lumber through the crowd with a clear glass of dark liquid in hand.

Lily's eyes then, almost like magnets seeking their opposite, found James's person amidst the throng—he was speaking to a stout middle-aged man.

"He doesn't know that you're here," Monty whispered to her, causing her to jump as she'd forgotten that her family and James's parents were still standing around her. Monty gave her a conspiring smile before continuing: "He's been in a panic since he realized you might be coming, but that you also might not be... it was too entertaining to either confirm or deny your attendance—I liked watching him squirm, as there's very few things that can coax that reaction from him these days."

Lily smiled, but her gaze never wavered from James's profile. "That must have been interesting to witness."

"That's one way to put it, dearie," he replied. "I'll leave you to it, and I can show your parents and sister around—I promise I won't abandon them to the masses of the Wizarding World. And you can find me later to ask me anything you'd like about potions—though I'd wager that we'll be meeting again rather soon."

Lily did look at him then, and she gave the older man a grateful nod. With a parting fatherly pat on her arm, Monty turned away and led her family in the direction of an elderly looking wizard who hurried towards them as soon as he spotted them.

Steeling herself, and turning back towards James, Lily bit her lip. He had yet to notice her, so she was gifted the rare opportunity to observe him without his knowledge in a setting that allowed for this kind of thing. He was angled slightly towards her. His hands, as usual, were gesturing wildly as he spoke. His dress robes were very finely made, as if she'd honestly expected anything less, and they were tailored to fit his frame perfectly. Thank the gods for Quidditch, she thought as her eyes slid along the broad expanse of his shoulders. He really had grown up since the end of last term, and it was hard to imagine that he was only sixteen. James Potter could easily pass as a few years older—especially when his face got a little scruffy.

It was an odd sight to see him dressed up, and Lily allowed herself to freely appreciate it for one of the first times. She was happy to see that one thing hadn't changed, and she couldn't help but giggle at the thought that his father literally invented a hair care product, and yet James's hair was never ever tame—always sticking up at weird angles and curling in odd places. Secretly, as she'd likely never admit it out loud, she hoped this never changed.

A dreamy sigh slipped out from between her lips, and, for once, she didn't try to cover it up with a cough or frantically look around to see if anyone heard—worried that the sound would give away all the feelings that she'd so far kept pent up. Today, she just let herself look and daydream and admire.

James, as if finally sensing her heated gaze, looked her way. His smile was crooked and genuine as he slowly scanned her from her heels to her hair, lingering dangerously on the (admittedly short) length of her legs. He ran a hand through his hair, and Lily hid her smile only because of the charade she'd been upholding about that action annoying her. As their eyes locked and he began to walk towards her, his gaze never wavering, Lily realized something.

She was a goner. A complete fucking goner.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

"James!" his mother yelled, her voice echoing up the stairs and filtering into his bedroom. "Guests will be arriving in less than thirty minutes! Please tell me that you're dressed?"

James, looking down at his sweatpants, and cringing as he took a tentative sniff of his t-shirt, decided that his best course of action was to not answer his mother—she could always hear the lie in his voice. As it was, he shouldn't be judged too harshly for his current state because really, how many people shower on the days between Christmas and New Year's? Isn't that short stretch of time meant for lazing about and ignoring things like showers?

Sirius was chuckling at him from his perch on the couch, his friend already clothed in a pair of dress robes—ironically, the same dress robes that he was wearing the day he left his parents' house—and reclining casually against the cushions, an ankle balanced on his knee and a glass of water clutched lazily in his hand like it was a tumbler of whiskey.

"James Charlus Potter!" his mother yelled again. "Don't you dare make me climb these stairs and check for myself!"

"I've got him, Mrs. P!" Sirius replied, still laughing. Quieter now, he added, "You really ought to get dressed, mate. Before she follows through on her threat of locking you in the attic for the night."

"I'd rather be locked in the attic," James grumbled, only being half sarcastic. He did grab his clothes, though, and head towards the bathroom attached to his room.

"Come on, Prongsie!" Sirius called, his voice now muffled from behind the closed bathroom door. "This is the only night of the year where I get to dress up for fun! Granted, it's in a pair of clothes I wish I would have burned, but we can't have everything! And just think, mate… this is the only night of the year where we won't get in trouble for drinking the expensive stuff. Can't you hear the Dom Pérignon calling your name?"

Sirius began imitating an echo: "Jaaamesss. Drink me, James! I've been sitting in a cabinet for a year, and I just want someone to pop my cork!"

James leaned his face into the spray of water, uncaring that it wasn't quite warm yet, and tried his best to ignore his friend's voice. He'd never—not in a million years—want the melancholy Sirius from two months ago to make a reappearance, but he could do with a slightly less chipper version of his friend—or at least a friend that didn't personify champagne bottles or drive him up the walls with more sexual innuendos than he knew what to do with.

And James was looking forward to tonight's party—really, he was—but he knew he'd have to be re-introduced to all of his parents' stuffy friends (granted, most of his parents' friends were cool, just old). And there'd likely be a long-lost aunt that spontaneously replied to the RSVP and showed up to unexpectedly pinch his cheeks and smother him in choking floral perfume.

"And I hear that Evans might be coming!" Sirius called, his voice (thankfully) back to normal. "You wouldn't want to miss a chance to pine longingly over her eyes!"

James rinsed the soap from his hair.

"Or moon over her arse!" Sirius piped in. "Oh—wait… I just realized the amount of one-liners that you've likely been practicing. Oh no, the horror show of jokes that I'm going to have to sit through tonight. Kill me now!"

James squeezed body wash onto his flannel and, only for a second, did he imagine that the bottle was his best friend's neck.

Running the flannel over his chest, he hated that his friend knew the real reason he was anxious about the party—even if his attempt to calm him resulted in anything but calmness. The real reason he didn't want to get ready was Lily.

Not the girl herself, per se, but rather the unknown factor of whether or not she would be at his house tonight. Honestly, he was still reeling from the last time she was here. First, with her nodding off on Sirius's shoulder, but shifting twenty minutes into her slumber to collapse into James's side instead—her thin arm curling around his waist and her cheek nuzzling into his chest. And second, with her wearing a sweater he had carelessly shucked off in the kitchen the night before. Seeing her in that had made him more than a little hot and bothered, and he wasn't able to stop himself from running his hand down her side just to feel her in it. Even thinking about it now produced thoughts that he absolutely didn't have time for.

The thing was, his father told him he'd invited her and her family, but no matter how much James needled at him, the man wasn't at all forthcoming on whether she'd accepted the invitation.

It was cruel of him, really. And not in an over-dramatic way.

If she did come, what was he supposed to do at midnight? Kiss her? If so, on the lips? Or the cheek? The forehead? Or avoid the traditional midnight kiss entirely and just—he didn't know… high-five her? James snorted. And what was he supposed to do when the perfect song came on and he couldn't help but ask her to dance? He had vivid memories of that last encounter too, where they'd danced together on Halloween—of her head on his chest, of her hand in his, of her fingers in his hair, of his hands pressed firmly to the small of her back.

Worst of all, what if he worried and agonized over all of this and she didn't even show up?

He rested his head on the tile, slamming it a little harder than he meant to, and forced himself to shut off the water. James heard muffled voices from his room as he began toweling off, and he stilled when he heard Remus's distinct laugh mingling with Sirius's.

Ever since Sirius had told him that he was gay (or more specifically, that he had a thing for Remus), more and more aspects of his friend's life started to make sense—almost as if James had had the puzzle pieces all along and was only now able to put them together to complete the picture. There were even small things that he didn't notice before that were now glaringly obvious—like the way Sirius's body language changed (just slightly) around Remus, or how James never caught Sirius's gaze lingering on any girl (ever), or how his best friend looked to Remus before anyone else (almost like he was checking to see if the other boy is happy).

The biggest thing that James took away from this new revelation, however, was that Sirius chose him to be the first person to tell. Not only was he glad that Sirius trusted him, he's also glad that Sirius trusted himself enough to finally say it out loud.

"–because if you do, I'll give you the silent treatment for a week!" he heard Sirius threaten, pulling James from his musings.

"You wouldn't," Remus replied calmly. "I call bullshit—you'd miss the sound of your own voice too much."

The next sentence was uttered too low for him to hear, so James started pulling on his clothes, wishing he'd brought his wand in here so he could clear away some of the steam—to hell with the underage wizardry law. He only made it as far as his slacks when the humidity of the bathroom became too much—his skin too sticky to pull on anymore clothes. Torn between wanting to give Sirius more alone time with Remus and not incurring the wrath of a pissed off Mummy Potter by being late, James made the obvious choice.

Banging around enough, and cracking the door open at a slow enough pace, he made sure to loudly announce his presence to his friends before he entered his own bedroom. James, obviously expecting more, only glanced at the distance between Sirius and Remus on the couch for a second before rubbing his towel over his wet hair and walking towards his bed.

"Hey, Moony," James greeted. "Get here alright?"

"Made it with no problem," his friend replied. "Brought all my stuff with me, as well. Figured I'd crash with you 'till we head back to Hogwarts—save my mum and dad the trip into London."

"Of course you can stay," James agreed easily. "You're always welcome—you know that—and Mum loves to play chess with you, so she'll be itching for a game or two."

"Hey!" Sirius interrupted, leaning over the back of the couch and angling his body into Remus's space as he looked at James. "I am a perfectly good chess player."

"Whatever you say, Padfoot," Remus sighed, smirking a little in James's direction and giving Sirius a condescending pat on the head (although, he was surprisingly careful not to mess up Sirius's expertly styled hair).

"A perfectly good chess player," James said solemnly, nodding with fake sincerity.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and shifted his glare between the both of them. Huffing with indignation and defeat, Sirius said, "I dislike you both."

.:..:.

James had been right. Not only had he run into a cheek-pinching, perfume-swaddled aunt, but also an over-enthusiastic Great-Uncle who believed claps on the back were a response to anything and everything. His shoulder was still aching a little, actually, and he'd been subtly rotating it as he stood there. Now, he was speaking with one of his mother's oldest friends, telling him everything about what it's like being a Quidditch captain. James was only halfway paying attention to what he was saying, as he was infinitely more interested in eyeing Sirius and Remus over the man's shoulder—the former of whom was leaning against the wall with Remus hovering close to his side.

James would admit that he was in full Marauder planning mode. His newest scheme? Get his two best friends into a relationship—also known as Operation Moonfoot… He'd admit that he was still working on the name, but the premise was accurate.

Suddenly, the back of his neck began to prickle, and he stopped speaking mid-sentence to swivel his gaze to the left, seeking out her gaze.

Lily.

She had come.

His mouth actually went a little dry as he looked at her.

James gave her a long once over, unable to stop his stare from lingering.

"If you'll excuse me, William," James said, completely forgetting his manners and not even glancing at the man before he headed in her direction.

Gods, she looks beautiful, James thought. And it wasn't just the dress, though his traitorous eyes did keep flicking down to the sweet curves of her hips, but rather her eyes that he couldn't tear his gaze away from. And even though he knew that Sirius would take the absolute mickey out of him right now if his friend got a good look at him—or, Merlin forbid, hear his thoughts—James couldn't help but start thinking of the ridiculous poetry that he could write in their honor.

Eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad… his mind supplied, and then, quite frankly, he wanted to Avada himself. How dare that be all he could come up with? Resisting the urge to actually slap himself, he pulled himself from his thoughts so he wouldn't run into anyone on the trek towards her.

Her eyes though, he sighed, unable to stop himself. She had lined them in dark makeup and they had, impossibly, become even brighter and more piercing. Like emeralds that have been freshly shined, he mused.

Better. That was better. Not his best work, but better than comparing them to toads, for Godric's sake.

Her hair was half pulled up, and the two curled pieces lingering on either side of her face would be making James exercise his restraint all night long, as he knew his fingers would be itching to brush the soft red strands behind her ears. Her dress was black, and she was shimmering slightly in the light with every slight shift of her person.

He finally reached her without knowing what he was going to say, and a blush slowly crept up his neck the longer he stood there in silence.

"Hello, James," she said, smiling cutely at him.

"Right—hi, Lily," he stuttered. "You—um, wow, you look great. Really great. Stunning, actually."

"Thank you," she said, looking down and clearing her throat. "Uh, y-you look good, too. Very handsome."

If James could see himself—as if he were having an out of body experience, or watching this interaction on replay, like with the Omnioculars used for professional Quidditch matches—he'd have been yelling at himself now, shouting, do something, you poser! You're dropping the Quaffle here!

He had no proper thoughts in his head, though—all of them flying out of his ears the longer he looked at her, and he was almost incapable of speech at all. Now that he was this close to her, close enough to reach out and grab her hand if he were bolder, he saw that her dress was not all a solid black, but rather a see-through mesh-like material on the arms and chest— he could actually see her skin through it, and he spotted the dark freckle just above the crook of her elbow that he'd imagined kissing too many times. He also came to an immediate conclusion as to why she was sparkling: there were small black beads sewn into the fabric, and they caught the light whenever she shifted. (It was also good to know that he wasn't completely losing it and imagining her as angel-like and glowing—it was just gems… good for his sanity.)

He looked around, desperately searching for a way to avoid standing there in silence, and his eyes landed on the tables piled high with food.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked.

She nodded and turned to lead the way to the food, and James had to remind himself to walk. Part of her dress was simply missing, and her pale skin was revealed from her neck all the way to the middle of her back. Her hair was longer now than it was the last time he had taken a real look at it, just grazing the small of her back, and it covered most of her revealed flesh; though, in James's mind, it was more intriguing that way because with every step she took, her hair would sway and tease the sight of more of her skin. James, feeling like a bit of a cad for essentially ogling her, stepped up beside her so he could look at other things—which was actually a good thing for the stability of his mind, not to mention the fit of his trousers.

James grabbed two clean plates when they reached the tables, and he held them out while Lily piled them full of food. She kept shooting him smiles and small glances as she did this, and he gave her one back when she added an extra helping of treacle tart to her own plate.

"I can hold my own plate, you know?" she eventually said.

"Well, we wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress of yours, now would we?"

She rolled her eyes, and James felt his grin grow, unable to stop it.

"If it makes you feel better, you can carry the drinks," he added.

"Deal," she replied, already scrutinizing the arrangement of drinks. Pouring a healthy portion of Pumpkin Juice into two goblets, and then groaning when she realized she had overlooked the hot chocolate, Lily shrugged and turned to face him. He gestured in the direction of the back patio.

"Do you eat out here all the time?" she asked him, choosing a table and setting their drinks down.

"Oh, no, that'd be way too much of a hassle," James replied, taking the seat next to her. "This is actually pretty far from the kitchen—and I hate how formal it is. My family usually eats in either the kitchen or the den… occasionally, we eat in the dining room, but only if my mum decides to make a larger meal."

"Hmm," Lily acknowledged, nodding. "Your house is huge," she then mused, looking over her shoulder and craning her neck to look at said house. "I knew you had money, and obviously I was here about a week ago, but pulling up your driveway and seeing the whole house, and not just the few corridors that I wandered around in while I was here, is a way different experience. And you never told me your father was a potioneer! And that he invented Sleakeazys! How is your hair always a disaster if your family literally owned a hair care company?"

He was laughing as he replied. "It's a lot of work to use that stuff every day. Plus it's sticky. And it makes your hair look greasy sometimes."

She snorted. "Always so vain, Potter."

.:..:.

The clock was creeping past 11:45 when James and his friends abandoned the dance floor, breathing heavily with exertion and happy to be reunited. While the band took a break to mingle and eat, James's parents had set up the wireless, and they had been tirelessly dancing along to its tinny emissions for the last hour. The moment that he had been waiting—slightly dreading—had yet to come, as every song since his dinner had been upbeat and the best atmosphere for group dancing—nothing where he could pull her close and breathe her in.

"Petunia!" Lily greeted, collapsing into a seat next to her sister and looking very out of breath—a pretty flush highlighting her cheeks. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to dance?"

"I'm positive," her sister replied stiffly, as if she refused to admit that she was (at least semi) enjoying herself.

"Your choice," Lily shrugged, "but the offer is always there. Hey Mum! Dad! How's your night been? You having fun?"

"Very much so," her mother replied, sitting primly in one of the straight-backed chairs that James only ever saw when his folks were hosting a party. "I know that this is your world—the one that you're used to—but I've never seen so much magic in my life, and this is slightly surreal—to be here with all of… this."

"I can imagine," James replied, nodding to both of Lily's parents in greeting and taking the open seat across from Lily. "We're really glad that you could make it, despite how overwhelming some of this must be. I hope my father isn't bombarding you with too many questions?"

Mrs. Evans smiled politely. "Not at all, James. It's very interesting to me that Wizards don't have some of the things that we use every single day. Your father's friends talked with Edward for ages about his job—apparently you have nothing similar to it at all."

As James opened his mouth to respond, Sirius flounced over and collapsed dramatically onto James's lap—ignoring the two open seats at the table completely.

"Well, hello there, Padfoot," James greeted, amused.

"Hey, Prongsie," Sirius sighed, snatching James's water and downing the rest of it in one go. "It's good to see you again, Rose, Edward, Petunia," he greeted, nodding at each of Lily's family members. "And Lily, I must say that you look absolutely smashing tonight."

"Why, thank you, Sirius," Lily replied. "You look very dapper, as well."

"Now that," Sirius replied, with yet another sigh, "is entirely a matter of opinion."

"Who said otherwise?" Lily demanded, and James himself frowned slightly. "I'll hex 'em! Just point me in the right direction! I've been itching to try out that new Bat-Bogey one that I just read about."

"Me! I said otherwise, so hex away Lils!" Sirius groaned, leaning back against James and practically smothering him with his hair. James sputtered, trying to get said hair out of his mouth, and rolled his eyes at his friend's antics—yet, he still listened intently as Sirius continued speaking. "These dress robes are horrid. Absolutely horrid! Of course, my darling mother picked them out, and then she ruined them the night of my unannounced arrival at your house, James— annoyingly, things never look the same once they need to be sewn up. Worst of all, they've got fucking snakes embroidered on the hems because that woman's incapable of purchasing anything that doesn't immediately scream, 'Hello world! I'm a blood purist, and I practice Dark Magic on my kids for fun! If it wasn't obvious by my ugly face and the snakes on my clothing, I'm a horrible fucking person!'"

"Sirius?" Lily's mother inquired softly. "Are you okay, honey?"

There were two beats of silence before Sirius blinked rapidly, as if trying to forcefully clear his mind.

"Sorry, Rose." Sirius smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I'm fine—just being obnoxious as usual."

"It's not obnoxious at all," Rose soothed. "Especially if it's about something that's actually bothering you."

"Right," Sirius replied quickly, shifting minutely on James's lap, obviously uncomfortable.

James was looking at his best friend, craning his neck around and studying his side profile intently, so he knew that Sirius was not, in fact, fine—or anywhere in the realm of that word. James, having years of friendship with Sirius under his belt, knew exactly the right way to reroute his friend's thoughts and distract him.

"Okay, up, up, up," James demanded, smacking his friend lightly on the sides and shoving him slightly. "Take those robes off."

"At least buy me dinner first, love," Sirius quipped.

"I'm being serious," James insisted. "Take—"

"You're not Sirius," Sirius said slowly, as if talking to a small child. "I am Sirius. You are James."

James let out a long-suffering sigh and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling and praying for patience. Lily's mother and sister both let out a snort of laughter while Lily herself groaned right along with James, having heard this particular joke too many times. James, rather than responding, began unbuttoning his own robes. He shucked it off and began unbuttoning his shirt as well.

"Whoa, what is happening right now?" Lily asked, obviously startled. "And can it happen elsewhere?"

"I'm trading dress robes with Sirius," James said simply. "And if he doesn't do it here, in front of everyone, then they'll be no real pressure and he won't do it all."

"I am not trading clothes with you," Sirius said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture and sinking back into James's vacated seat. "First off, your style is totally different than mine, and you literally tower over me. I'll spare myself the humiliation of walking around in robes that I'll be tripping over, thank you very much. Not to mention, that color totally doesn't work for me."

"Oh shut up and strip," Remus said, finally wandering over from the food table and taking a seat next to Lily's father, shaking his hand. James saw him introducing himself to Lily's mother and sister, too, but James refused to fully look away from Sirius.

James was smirking now, though, knowing that Sirius had a very hard time saying no to Remus about anything. Slowly, and with a scowl on his face, Sirius began undoing his robes.

"Shut up," he muttered when he saw James's satisfied smile. Sirius even went so far as to wad up his robes and throw them at James's face.

"None of this would have happened if you'd just gotten rid of those things in the first place," James reminded with a smile.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius scoffed. "That would've been real beneficial for me—you know, being disowned and having no money to my name, or any way to acquire said money, and trashing the only pair of dress robes that I own. Smart, James. Real smart. I can see why Evans is ahead of you in class ranking, Prongs. Seems she'll be both the brains and the pants in this relationship."

"Oh, leave us alone, Sirius. I–"

"Relationship?" Lily's mother inquired, zeroing in on the word and interrupting her daughter mid-sentence. Lily's face was beet red at the simple word—either from embarrassment (which James hoped wasn't the case), or at the implications of it (which he rather did hope was the case).

"He's just messing with us like usual, Mrs. Evans," James assured, hoping to spare not only Lily, but also himself from any invasive hard-to-answer questions. "We're not together, no worries. Just friends."

"Not together, yet," Sirius corrected, the distinct twinkle of revenge in his eyes. "As long as I'm the best man at your wedding, I don't care what you call yourselves at the moment."

"Must you, Sirius?" Lily groaned.

"Hey, your friend is the one making me take my clothes off in a room full of people," Sirius responded. "Guess he should have thought things through before he did this, huh?"

"Oh, please." Lily laughed. "The only person more arrogant about his looks than Potter is you, Sirius. Let's not pretend that you weren't waiting for the chance to show off."

Sirius, apparently finding her statement too truthful to offer an objection to, just shook his head and finally pulled his dress shirt off. Sirius, much like himself and every other player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was built like an athlete, with strong shoulders, muscled arms, and a firm chest. Really, the only difference between James and his best friend were the myriad of tattoos that covered Sirius's chest. James was, by now, well accustomed to their existence, and he knew immediately that the swirling design on his left ribs was new.

"Hey!" Lily interjected, speaking before James could and pointing at the fresh tattoo. "That's a new one! What'd you do? Get another one in the five days between Christmas and New Year's?"

"I did this one myself actually," Sirius replied, twisting his torso so he could get a better look at it. "Conjured up a machine and did it two days ago."

"So you broke the law to give yourself a tattoo?" Lily inquired, raising a single eyebrow. "That sounds about right."

"Technically, even though he did break the law," Remus began, "there's so much magic going on in this house at any given moment that there's no way the Ministry could know that it was him that did it. The trace is really finicky, actually, but the Ministry doesn't want people to know that."

Lily immediately looked delighted, and she even did a little bounce in her seat. Seeing the smile on her face, James wished that he'd been the one to tell her this loophole.

"I've never done magic outside school!" Lily said. "Mum, Dad, what do you want to see?"

James hadn't thought of this before—Lily never being able to show her family what she's learned, only able to tell them about it. His parents were wizards, obviously, and they were content with only hearing about his lessons—having experienced them themselves. He couldn't imagine having never heard of magic before, and then having a child that can do it, but not do it when at home. He wasn't sure if he'd believe anything his kid said if he were in Lily's parents' position.

"Are you sure, Lily?" her mother asked, obviously skeptical. "I've read those notes that they send home with you, and I don't want to get you in any trouble."

"Oh, don't worry Rose," Sirius said with a smile. Then, without any warning, he sent a very mild stinging hex James's way, nipping him on his arm.

"Ouch!" James grunted, jumping more from surprise than actual pain.

As Sirius and Remus both laughed, Peter off somewhere else still, James muttered, "You forget that I know where you sleep, Padfoot."

"Oh, that was a wee baby hex, mate, don't get all up in arms," Sirius chortled, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture and shrugging on James's button down. James did the same with Sirius's, acutely aware of the way Lily's gaze kept darting to his bare chest and away again. "Show 'em some fancy transfiguration, Evans."

Lily grabbed James's empty water glass and turned towards her parents. "Pick an animal—any animal, as long as it's little."

"How about a bunny, dear?" her mother asked, her eyes sparkling as she adjusted in her seat to get a closer look. "That's what magicians are always pulling out of hats, anyway."

"Perfect." Lily smiled. "What color, Tuney?"

Petunia looked like she'd rather not answer, and given her track record with magic, James wasn't very surprised. But she eventually said, "Blue," albeit grudgingly.

Lily, doing that cute little thing with her nose that James always looked for in class, lifted her wand and steadily said the incantation. Slowly, and then all at once, the glass turned into a small blue bunny and began hopping playfully across the tabletop.

"Fantastic!" Lily's father exclaimed. "How long will it stay like that?"

"Well that depends on a lot of different things," Lily said. "Mostly, how much magic I put into it, but every transfiguration spell is reversed if the caster dies."

"And," James couldn't help but add, "it's reliant upon what you're transfiguring. For example, if she were to have transfigured, say, a pocket watch into a bunny, it would last much longer because the pocket watch is already more complex than a simple glass."

"Right," Lily nodded. "I was going to say that."

James smiled. "Sure you were, love."

"Don't call me that," she replied automatically, though he was happy to notice that the words didn't have as much of a bite to them as they usually did.

"Okay," Sirius interrupted. "Someone fix these robes immediately, or I'm taking them back off."

"Stop being dramatic," Remus droned, rolling his eyes with a smile. "Come stand on this chair, and I'll sever them for you."

"Sever them?" Sirius yelled. "Don't give me a hack job, I have a reputation to maintain!"

"Yeah, a reputation of being annoying," Remus muttered, but Sirius continued as if Remus hadn't even spoken.

"And these are Sartoria! You can't just destroy them!"

"For Godric's sake, Padfoot, just get over here before I change my mind."

Sirius put on a good show of being huffy, but James knew better. As James re-took the open seat next to Lily, he was watching their interaction very closely. Lily, who was still chatting to her parents about Transfiguration, was oblivious to how intently James was invested in this small moment.

As Remus began to cut off the extra few inches, Sirius stood ramrod straight—whether it be from Remus's proximity or because he wanted the hem line to be even, James didn't know.

Remus was crouched back on his haunches, his wand held steady. Piece by piece, parts of the robes fell away, and they curled into rolls onto the hardwood.

"Looking good, Padfoot," Peter claimed, collapsing into Remus's vacated seat with a plate of dinner. "Not at all messy."

"Shut your yap, Pete," Remus threatened, sitting fully on the floor as, presumably, his achy knees gave out.

"Remus I–" Sirius frantically began, only to be cut off by Remus.

"I promise you, you still look amazing. You looked great in the snake robes and you'll look great in these ones. Please calm down, all is well."

James eyed the blush on Sirius's cheeks and grinned unabashedly. Remus waved his wand again, wordlessly, and conjured a needle and thread. James, not the least bit shocked by Remus's magical skill, was a little shocked that the hem job was actually turning out perfectly. It was almost as if the robes had been purchased that way.

"This is amazing, dear," Lily's mother spoke. "I can imagine how much easier my life would be if I had this at my disposal. Think of all the hours saved, Edward—all the shirts and socks saved!"

"Give me another couple of months, and I'll do all your hemming, Mum," Lily said, smiling.

"You're all set, Sirius," Remus said, looking up from the floor. Sirius hopped down from the chair, and extended a hand to his friend—pulling Remus steadily to his feet.

James was still watching them intently—being none too subtle about it either—but the two boys were too engrossed in each other to notice his blatant staring. Sirius mumbled something too low for James to hear, and a quiet smile blossomed on Remus's face—and even though the smile was accompanied by an eyeroll, the gesture was distinctly fond. Remus began walking towards the drinks table, and after three seconds of staring after him, Sirius joined him.

"Sirius told me that he 'slipped up' when he was staying with you for the weekend, and you know about him now," James whispered. "That he's gay."

"'Slipped up' was really what he said, wasn't it?" Lily laughed. "Yeah, he told me—and I'm happy he did. I've always had my suspicions just based on the way he stares at—I mean, based on a couple different things, but I'm proud of him that he finally felt comfortable enough to say it."

James was smiling. "Let's back up to that sentence you cut off… you had your suspicions based on the way he stares at…?"

She gave him a very dry look. "Stop being coy, you know who I'm talking about—I just don't want to jinx it by speaking it into existence."

James's smile, impossibly, grew. "Fair enough."

He was watching his two friends argue over the drinks table, and it was only the way that Remus tilted his head that gave away the fact that the argument wasn't real—that there was no heat behind it. They looked like they always did, and James hoped he wasn't reading too much into Remus's actions—only seeing what he wanted to see. Remus's gaze did linger, right?

"Per your decree," James began again, "I will not speak their names but I do have a plan—Marauder style and everything."

"I'm unsurprised." Lily smiled, leaning her head on her hand and looking up at him through her impossibly long lashes. "May I be privy to this plan, oh infamous Marauder?"

"Well, in all honesty, the plan is a little… underdeveloped… but Operation Moonfoot will be a success."

"Moonfoot?" Lily quirked an eyebrow. "Good Lord, surely you can do better than that, Potter?"

"It needs a little work, I'll admit," James conceded, running his hand across his mouth in an attempt to wipe the smile from it.

She gave a soft hum and stared very intently at Remus and Sirius.

"How about… Wolfstar?" she asked, tilting her head as she joined him in their (somewhat) stealthy observation of the two boys across the room. "You know, because he's named after a star called—well, a star in the Canis Major constellation. And—ah—the other one has a furry little problem—meaning wolf. Put them together and—voilà! —Wolfstar."

"Perfect," James breathed. "I love it: Operation Wolfstar. You're officially on the team, Lils."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and James looked around—movement out of the corner of his eye snagging his attention. The band were resuming their position on the raised dais, picking up their instruments and settling in. When soft music once again emitted from their instruments, a few couples began migrating to the dance floor. He watched his mother and father sway peacefully—a soft smile in his mother's eyes as she gazed at her husband—and Lily's parents also joined the floor, their hands clasped tightly and Lily's mother's head resting on her husband's chest—their height difference large even with the tiny heels Mrs. Evans was wearing.

James, at this moment, was no longer nervous about asking Lily to dance. Seeing all these other couples partake in the action without hesitation boosted his confidence. Why shouldn't he ask her to dance? There was nothing stopping him but himself, and they've had a nice night so far—wonderful even—with no awkwardness or fights (which, actually, the avoidance of the latter was a feat that he was rather proud of).

"Will you dance with me, Lily?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

"Of course," she replied without hesitation. "We are rather good at it."

They were both smiling as James took her hand and led her to the floor. He hesitated only briefly, right before they were about to get into position, only because he remembered the missing part of her dress.

"Lil?" he asked. "This is likely a weird question, but I'd like to make sure: would you rather have my hand higher on your back, or lower—just because I don't want to touch your bare skin if you don't want me to. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

James, not expecting her eyes to regain some of their fire after this question, was slightly taken aback by how blazing they suddenly became. He was worried that he shouldn't have asked that—that it was a question he already should've known the answer to. But then she stepped forward, right into his chest—leaving no room for air—and placed her small hand on the back of his neck. He was still holding her left hand in his, but his right hand hung stupidly down at his side.

"Surprise me," she whispered.

His breath caught, but he did his best to ignore it as he lifted his hand and settled it in the small of her back, halfway on her silky dress and halfway on her bare back—a compromise. When she raised a single eyebrow, questioning it, James smirked—hoping to cover his breathlessness by the action.

"I couldn't decide," he murmured. "Either option was too tempting, so I settled for both."

A flush was steadily rising on her chest—visible even through the mesh material of her dress—and she, impossibly, drew closer to him, and he felt the shift in her muscles as she stood as tall as she could. He was staring at her, and watching her redden slowly, the lovely flush on her cheeks doing wicked things to his brain. Forget the exerted flush, or the happy flush, or the angry flush—which he always associated as her best flush—because this was better. The way her eyes were darker than normal, and her breathing was just a tad too shallow. The way that her nails scratched small circles into the base of his neck, trailing slightly into his hairline and twirling the short curling strands around her fingers.

The way that this flush was brought on because of him—his proximity and his actions.

He was soaring through the clouds—making a pit-stop on cloud nine and hoping that he'd never have to fall back to Earth.

They began to dance, James leading them across their small circle of space. He was loath to spin her—for selfish reasons obviously (namely he didn't want to lose their proximity)—but his desire to see her happy overpowered his own needs, and she always smiled beatifically after a good spin. He clasped her hand tightly and twirled her around, her hair trailing behind her like fire. As she glided back into his chest, his hand landed higher on her back, and he couldn't help but trace his fingers over her flesh.

Goosebumps trailed his fingers and her hand tightened on the back of his neck.

"I do love to dance with you," she spoke, her voice almost too soft to hear over the music. "I just thought you should know."

He leaned in close and spoke directly into her ear, never stopping his movements and honestly marveling at his own ability to multitask. "I love to dance with you, too. It's easier to dance with a partner with whom you have… chemistry with."

"Chemistry, huh?" she wondered. "Is that what we're calling this, then?"

He twirled her again, buying himself time to formulate a proper response.

"I think that's as good a word as any," he settled on once she was back in the circle of his arms. "I can name a few others if you'd like—captivation, magnetism, allure, devotion… attraction."

Their eyes locked and as Lily opened her mouth to respond, the crowd began counting down. They were closer to midnight than he'd thought, and Lily turned away from him to stare at the numbers ticking lower in the middle of the room—a timer conjured to hover in the middle of the dance floor. His hand slid down her back as she turned, and he bravely let it settle on her hip.

This was the first time since he'd asked her to dance that his palms began sweating. It all of a sudden became very real, and that the last five minutes hadn't been a dream at all—that he'd really said all of those things to her. Midnight was here and he was still unsure on his course of action. He felt he'd already pushed his luck, and he was unlikely to continue to be this bold even though Lily had given him no indication that she wasn't okay with it.

He pulled his hand away and wiped both of his palms on his robes.

"Ten! Nine!" the crowd shouted.

Lily spun back to him, her eyes wide and wild. She snatched his arm and dragged him across the dance floor, finally cloistering them in one of the only two alcoves in the ballroom.

"Seven! Six!" the crowd shouted, their voices filled with excitement as Lily closed the drapes—hiding them in semi-darkness.

James's heart was beating out of his chest, and his turbulent gaze met Lily's own. Her breaths were shallow and quick—rivaling what they were on the dance floor—and her beautiful blush was spreading up her chest as she stared—oh, Merlin—as she stared at his lips. Wow, this was really happening. His mouth was dry, and his hands were trembling as he reached for her. He slid one (now, thankfully, dry) hand from the nape of her neck all the way down her bare spine, splaying it across her skin and soaking up the blissful heat of it.

With his other hand, he finally, finally, tucked the stray strand of her glossy hair behind her ear.

"Four! Three!" the crowd continued to shout.

James slowly leaned toward her, and he felt her small hands clutching desperately at his waist. She rose hesitantly to her tip toes and their noses brushed, soft as a butterfly's wing beat. He was breathing heavily now too, his heart feeling as though it'd burst from his chest, and the heat from her body was driving him utterly wild. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips firmly to her cheek, lingering there for the final second of the countdown as she tightened her hands into fists—her nails digging deliciously into his side.

"One," she breathed, her shaky exhale ghosting over his ear, sending tingles down his spine and goosebumps across his neck.

His eyes had been closed as he pulled back, brushing his nose softly across her cheekbone as he did so; he opened his eyes now, though, to look at her—closer to her in this moment than he'd ever dreamed he'd be, in this life or in any other. Tentatively, he cupped her cheek and softly swiped his thumb across her bottom lip.

She was shaking slightly as she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes contentedly. And it was that tender act that finally sent the rest of his breath from his lungs—as if he'd taken a direct hit from a Bludger.

Gods, he couldn't even breathe when he looked at her.

"Happy New Year's, Lily Evans," he whispered, careful to speak quietly so as not to shatter the moment.

Then James leaned in.


me, writing out the words canis major and having flashbacks to my astronomy 205 class: AHHHAJSDJFJKLASKHF

side note: am i officially reaching slow burn excellence? i say yes, but i'm biased. and lily getting turned on by james asking permission to touch her? relatable as hell, honey.

also, i had to slip in the bit about the ship name. i mean, come on! name a softer ship name than 'wolfstar', i'll wait… AND AND AND ginny's fresh-pickled-toad poem is peak comedy and we all know harry has his mother's eyes...

this is my longest chapter yet, and i cannot begin to tell you how difficult it was to write this—i literally cut so much out :(( BUT there will be a new year's eve part two chapter that will have all the rest of the goodies :))

edit 9/16/20: a reviewer pointed out that i got my math a little wrong with monty's age! whoops! i've gone through and made the necessary edits so it's a bit more believable now. thanks for pointing it out! :) on a different side note, the same reviewer pointed out that the potter's "don't have dark skin." i've always headcanoned that the male side of the potters are poc, and twitter has narrowed down that headcanon to them being desi (thanks, stan twitter lol). basically jkr is incapable of having diversity in her books-not to mention she's a raging transphobe- so i've basically decided to say 'fuck it' to both her and her canon.