Close Your Eyes

A/N - I wrote this for the November 2022 jilychallenge prompt: "Do I really repulse you that much?" but I transformed the Enemies to Lovers trope into Friends to Lovers because I'm Rebellious. I was partnered with the lovely AnnaBtG ❤️


She stormed out of the portrait hole, face burning red and heart slamming hard against the walls of her chest.

"Evans," huffed the voice behind her, and Lily could hear his footsteps speed up to catch up with her. There was urgency there, in his tone, but she simply straightened her spine and kept walking, unwilling to turn around. "For Merlin's sake, Evans, slow down, would you?"

"I'm just running late," she bit out, turning the corner as she headed towards the Grand Staircase. "You should go back to the common room, Potter. I can handle this on my own."

"That's not up to you, actually," he shot back, irritation creeping into his voice as he fell in step with her. The sleeve of his robe brushed against hers, but Lily walked on, blood pounding in her ears. "Would you please just talk to me instead of acting like this? What the lads said back inside isn't true. I don't have any interest—"

"It doesn't matter, James. I have much more important things to focus on." She stepped onto the staircase, barely stopping herself from clicking her tongue when he followed, the warmth emanating from him like an itch on her skin she couldn't ignore. "I have to go all the way down to the boathouse, if you haven't forgotten McGonagall's orders. So, I really don't have the time or energy to deal with your personal life right now. It's none of my business besides. You don't have to explain yourself—"

"Quit it," he snapped, and she suddenly felt fingers wrap around her wrist, familiar and pulse-stirring. "We both have to go to the boathouse. I'm the Head Boy too, if you'd care to remember."

But she was frowning, considerably more occupied by the touch that burned her hand than the annoyance in his tone. Her eyes had finally found him, watching as a muscle ticked in his jaw, shoulders tense and brows pinched as he glared straight ahead, seemingly unwilling to meet her gaze now.

"What're you doing—"

"Just wait," he muttered, and just as soon as they reached the landing on the sixth floor, he cut a purposeful path towards some unknown destination. "You can't find the time to talk to me because we have to reach the boathouse, yeah? You're so bloody occupied that you can't even look at me? I'll save you more than enough time, don't worry."

Her feet stumbled, tongue glued. "James—"

But he was on some mission now, strides brisk and long and sending a knot of anxiety twisting up her lungs, right up until he brought them both to a halt in front of a portrait. The wizard seated inside, writing on a desk—Percival Pratt, if Lily recalled right—stared down at them with a blank expression.

"This password is confusing," said James, and she blinked, wondering what he meant and if he expected her to be of any help here when she had no idea where he was even taking her in the first place.

But before her thoughts could spiral any further, Lily watched as the portrait swung open before them—the earlier phrase clearly being an eccentric password—its hinges creaking noisily enough to give away the fact that this was not a very well-known path, nor a well-used one. From the faint light that leaked into the narrow passage, she could tell it was a relatively long route, and if her suspicions were right—

"Does this lead to the boathouse?"

"Yes," he said curtly, and walked inside without further elaboration. Although, she supposed, there was really no need for one, but the silence only enunciated the tension strung in the air around them. Lily followed, left with no other choice, and once the portrait swung shut behind them, James pulled out his wand and cast a quick, "Lumos."

For a second, they simply stood in the dim lighting, and Lily let her eyes adjust, taking in the stone walls and the way the passage curved into darkness a little farther ahead. That her hand was still caught in James's only registered in her mind when his fingers twitched almost imperceptibly against hers.

She pulled away from his grip, stomach twisting.

"Really?" he whispered, voice tight, clearly hurt. "Do I really repulse you that much?"

Guilt resided in the hollow of her throat, and she shook her head. "No. I—sorry. You know I don't think that."

He was quiet as the words settled between them, and she thought he'd push the issue further, harsher, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "Okay. Will you hear me out now?"

But discomfort still churned in her stomach, and as more minutes ticked by, Lily grew increasingly mortified by her vehement reaction earlier. So what if the boys had mentioned James showing interest in another girl? It wasn't as if he'd ever said anything to her, not since early sixth year—no matter how much she wished for those words from him now. The simplicity of one question; the euphoria of one answer.

But she had no right to be mad, not when they hadn't so much as discussed anything about their feelings or emotions pertaining to each other, not when he didn't owe her a single damn thing.

They were just best mates, a term that had steadily lost its bright, golden luminescence and had developed a pink tinge of longing for Lily every time she let it cross her mind—and it was more than a sufficient amount. They were best mates who sometimes shared looks that lingered a little too long, hugs that felt just a little bit warmer, and innocent touches that sent blood rushing to her face a little too easily. So this greed of the present was just poison she was allowing to seep into their friendship.

But fuck, if it didn't hurt.

Sitting there, back in the common room, with the fire roaring in the hearth and their friends all laughing in merriment as they'd teased James about Aimee Ryalls and how they'd seen the two of them flirting and making eyes at each other earlier in the week had all but made her feel sick. And James had done nothing but roll his eyes and ask them to drop it; a dead giveaway that none of it bothered him much.

And so, she'd put on her mask, sat through the pain slicing down her chest, and waited until it was time for them to head down to the boathouse to help put up spells on the boats, that, according to Filch, were being used by some students at night for mischief. Lily couldn't fathom what kind of mischief one could get up to in a boat that only helped you traverse the distance of the Black Lake, in plain view of anyone looking out their window from the castle, but she was now mates with the Marauders and therefore knew better. She didn't see the point of bringing up any questions when McGonagall had delegated the duty to them.

Of course, even as the conversation had moved onto other topics eventually, it hadn't been difficult to notice how James had kept trying to catch her eye in the midst of the group, and for some inexplicable reason, it had only served to annoy her more. Because he shouldn't have had to worry about what she thought—she shouldn't have had those thoughts in the first place—and pity was the last thing she'd needed.

And so, now, she made herself brush past him as she stalked down the passage. "Sure. I've never said I'm not listening to you."

There was a pause before his footsteps followed. "Okay. I don't want you to be mad at me—"

"I'm not—"

"Because what they said wasn't true."

"Seriously, James." She continued walking, tried to temper the pace of her pulse. Stupid, stupid. "I'm not mad. I have no reason to be. You're free to flirt with whomsoever you well please."

"That's really good to know, Evans, but holds no fucking relevance here because I didn't!"

The unveiled frustration in his tone was what finally did it; Lily's stomach clenched, relief and guilt and self-loathing swirling inside like ingredients to a disastrous potion. She took a moment to pull in a deep breath, and then made herself look over her shoulder, find James scowling, his hair askew, cheeks red.

"Okay," she said, voice quiet. "I believe you."

The fight seemed to unravel from his strained muscles in some staccato rhythm, like he was surprised by her acceptance, like his body fought against the inertia of engaging in a stronger argument. "O-Okay?"

She nodded, looked ahead again, lighting up her own wand. "Yeah."

They continued on in silence for a while after that. Lily had no idea what James made of her behaviour, or where his head was at as he walked alongside her with a pensive frown between his brows. The hand not holding his wand hung by his side, and the awareness of how much she wanted to reach out and thread her fingers through his had a boulder blocking her chest.

This wasn't fair.

She didn't understand why she was feeling this way, all of a sudden. Sure, over the last few weeks, as they'd begun spending more time together, voices quieter, gazes softer, she'd thought…well, she'd thought they were getting somewhere. Someplace they'd never gone before.

But now, she had fucked it all up by letting a momentary spark of jealousy—and Lily could certainly identify it for what it was now—flare up at just the idea of James with another person, and effectively ruined whatever steady progression they'd been making. Because, the thing was, it was the knowledge that he could be flirting with Aimee—could be doing anything he bloody wanted actually—because they hadn't acknowledged anything that brewed between them at all that had stunned her with its dizzying intensity.

No doubt he thought her a raging bitch now.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, and felt him turn to look at her. "I didn't mean to behave like that, I don't know where that came from."

"No, it's okay. I—" He ran a hand through his hair, stopping abruptly. She had no choice but to halt too, body turning to face him properly. A flurry of expressions fought for dominance over his face, before it eventually settled on bemusement, hazel eyes bright. "I'm just a little confused, I think. What, exactly, were you upset about?"

She wrapped an arm around her middle, felt mortification and terror alike clamber and burrow into her chest.

"I'm not sure. Guess the topic of conversation was a tad uncomfortable."

James hummed, tilting his head as if in consideration. After a beat, he took a step forward, and Lily found breathing had become a challenge all of a sudden.

"Didn't know you were quite so averse to the idea of flirting."

"I'm not," she whispered, feeling trapped, throat bobbing. "Just…"

"Just what?"

"I…" Lily blinked, tried to hold onto words that would make sense, that would explain her weird behaviour from earlier without completely carving open her chest for him to see her vulnerable heart. She swallowed against the panic welling inside, and realized she couldn't do this right there. "I think we should get down to the boathouse before we're late."

She didn't give James the chance to convince her otherwise; with a quick twist of her feet, she sped down the passage, feeling more than a little relieved when she spotted the back of the portrait that would lead them outside. Behind her, after several seconds of silence, James released a heavy exhale, and she heard him following her at a distance.

Something compressed around her ribcage, and she knew it was the weight of her own cowardice. Still, as Lily stepped out into the boathouse and let the cool evening air soothe the heat of her skin somewhat, she felt herself being able to think a bit clearer. As James exited the passage behind her, she turned to him with deliberate professionalism.

"Right. You take the rows on this side, and I'll take the ones on the other side."

He was still frowning slightly, and when he opened his mouth, Lily prepared herself for—for what, she didn't know, because he eventually just shook his head. "Yeah, alright."

It was incredibly aggravating when, instead of feeling calmed by his acquiescence, she only sensed disappointment sink in her stomach when he didn't push the matter further. Merlin, she really was messed up. But there was nothing to it; Lily proceeded to walk to the other end of the boathouse, and between the two of them, they began casting advanced anti-theft spells—as directed by McGonagall—on all the boats docked in rows before them.

It went considerably faster than she'd imagined it would take to complete the task, even though by the time they were done, the sun had well and truly set over the horizon, painting the space around them blood-red as twilight stretched across the sky. Thanks to the underground location of the harbour, visibility was quickly dimming in the area, so Lily hurriedly cast her last spell so that they could return to the castle. However, when she looked up again, it was to find James leisurely strolling the boardwalk on his end, pausing momentarily to remove his shoes and socks before he sat down on the far edge, his toes skimming water.

She stared at the back of his messy-haired head for several seconds before he turned to glance at her over his shoulder.

"You're welcome to join me."

Lily's feet were moving before she'd even given the signal to her brain, and although her pulse stuttered anxiously as she neared him, she still took off her own shoes and lowered herself next to him. He had the tiniest of smiles on his face as he looked ahead, and she felt a familiar calm spread through her limbs at the sight.

She was being ridiculous; this was just James.

"Pretty nice here, isn't it?"

She licked her lips, watched her black-painted toes draw ripples into the water. "It is. Pity the students don't get to come here much."

He was quiet after that, for long enough that Lily figured the conversation between them had petered out. But then, as if riding in on an afterthought, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, and she glanced at him sideways to find his eyes fluttering shut, arms stretching back so that he sat aslant, weight supported by palms.

"You kill me, you know?"

Her heart thudded, mouth dry. "What?"

"You kill me," he repeated plainly, as if this was of no bother to him. "To be honest, I'm fucking terrified of you. Especially because you have no bloody idea that you do."

"James..."

He opened his eyes, and he was not smiling anymore. But the way he looked at her, then, was enough. And she knew.

"I fancy you," he said, throat bobbing. "And I reckon I'll implode if I don't tell you. So here it is—I fancy you, and I have absolutely no interest in flirting or snogging anyone else. Maybe I'm the biggest prat to exist for even thinking that you care about any of that, but if you were upset, earlier, because you thought that I…you know, with Aimee, I mean. If that was the reason, at all, then I want you to know this." He pulled in a deep breath, and now she could see how the stutter in his inhale betrayed his nervousness. "But if I'm wrong—about this and everything else—then I'm sorry."

"Sorry," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Sorry, but—" he attempted a half-smile. "I can't bring myself to regret telling you."

The fire holders strung up on the walls around them came alive soundlessly, contributing brightness to the slivers of moonlight that had crept into the rapidly-darkening boathouse.

Lily watched James with a roar in her ears, feet numb and every other part of her blazingly aware in ridiculous comparison. She could feel a swell of emotion in her chest, could probably even name it if pushed, but words eluded her; stuck in the back of her throat as they danced around one another to try and form a sentence that could come remotely close to expressing any of what she was experiencing.

Instead, she shook her head—once, slow—and gently leaned forward until she had her palm pressed against his chest. James stilled entirely at the contact, unbreathing, hazel eyes roving her face like he'd be willing to sell his soul to read her mind. He was warm and solid, the sharp lines of his nose and jaw thrown into focus by the soft lighting that draped over him.

Lily's gaze dropped to his mouth, awe stirring in her ribcage as she muttered, "Implosion."

And then she brushed her lips over his: once, soft, delicate. Some sort of tension unspooled from inside her at the touch, and she let her fingers traverse higher, slide over his chin to curve around the back of his neck. The very next second, he breathed into the kiss—shuddering, emphatic—lips parting and tongue sliding over hers experimentally. A wave of desire swirled in her stomach, and Lily was helpless to stop the quiet, short-lived moan that she pressed against his mouth.

James's hands came up to cup her face, the hold gentle and scorching at the same time as he stroked his thumb tenderly over her cheek before letting his fingers slip into her hair. She only realized she was tilting completely over him after the fact of it; his right arm snaked around her waist, holding her steady against him as he lay back down against the boardwalk. Lily tried to pull back slightly so that her entire weight was not on him, but James simply shifted his mouth to her neck, tasting the pulse that jumped there on his tongue.

"Fuck," she whispered, eyes closed and skin warm, warm, warm.

"Lily," he breathed hard, nose nudging at the collar of her shirt, the flush that had crept up her chest no doubt visible to him despite the relative dimness around them. He groaned, deep, as if tortured, and the sound only sent her knee subconsciously slotting between his. "Merlin, this is—you are… fucking incredible."

"Yeah. Feels a bit too good," she agreed, bottom lip pulled between teeth as his hand travelled lower to slide up her bare thigh. "You have no idea how long I've wanted… how much I've wanted to kiss you."

James huffed into her collarbone, mouth tilting up. "Oh, trust me, I have some idea."

And then she was grinning, chuckling, rolling off of him as his shoulders shook underneath her too. Absurd hilarity had tears streaming down the side of her cheek, and it was only when James propped himself up sideways on an elbow and slipped his fingers between hers that her smile softened, heart fluttering giddily at the simple fact that they could do this now. She closed her eyes to remember this moment: the gentle sloshing of the water, the warmth of his touch, the peaceful quiet that blanketed them.

"Hey." He tugged at her hand. "What're you thinking?"

Lily blinked up at him, letting a slow smirk crawl over her face. "I'm thinking… what would you say if I asked you out right about now?"

Behind his glasses, hazel eyes widened infinitesimally, and it was a task impossible for her to read all of the emotions that flashed over his face before he bit the inside of his cheek, as if attempting to suppress the burgeoning smile that still peeked out despite his best efforts.

"I think," James eventually answered, leaning down to paint the answer on her lips. "That you should ask me and find out."


A/N - Thank you for reading! Come chat with me on Tumblr at maraudersftw