"That was a sloppy turn, McNamara!" Lily Evans yells across the pitch, her voice amplified by a Sonorus charm.
The Chaser in question reacts by making his next turn with flawless technique - much more fitting for the world-class athlete he's meant to be.
She's satisfied with the change, and informs him of such with a quick shout of, "Better."
The Puddlemere United players move through the air with remarkable grace and precision - even as someone who's meant to pick apart every flaw and imperfection, even Lily has to sometimes step back and admire the sheer artistry of it all.
The Prewett twins take turns hitting bludgers, each with a loud, satisfying thwack of the wooden bat against the ball, as they soar across the pitch, slicing through Lily's magically-created targets with remarkable precision.
Puddlemere's brilliant, brilliant Seeker, Marianne Dubois, is doing quick-turn drills today, and every new whistle has her hurtling in a completely different direction almost instantly - half the time, she's so quick that Lily doesn't even see her make the actual turn.
Ozzie Kieloch is taking his time flying around the Quidditch hoops, but even from a distance Lily can tell that his eyes are trained with military precision on the Quaffle as it's passed back and forth between Charlie McNamara and Corinne Ringwald, the starting team's Chasers.
It's because they're all so perfectly in tune that the missing seventh player seems so obvious, a gaping hole in the middle of the pitch just begging to be filled.
It's hardly that simple though, because finding someone whose rhythm can keep up with theirs is a tall order.
The next few hours pass in a similar fashion - the players run drills, and Lily's there to consistently provide both encouragement and criticism as they do so, weaving around the pitch to properly supervise everyone.
If anyone had told Lily during her early years at Hogwarts that she'd find herself working as a training coach for a professional Quidditch team after graduation, she absolutely would've thought they were mental. She didn't even start attending the games regularly until fourth year, and that was only because… well, the reasoning doesn't matter much anymore.
Point being, it's a little bit of a miracle that she's managed to command the respect of a whole roster of players who were good enough to go pro when her only real play experience comes from her seventh year at Hogwarts - but they all seem to defer to her authority unquestionably.
In her defense, she knows what she's talking about, and no one in their right mind could ever suggest that she's in any way incompetent at her job. She may not have ever played in a professional match herself, but she's researched every element of the game religiously, and when it comes to actually getting the team in shape for the season, there's no one else on Puddlemere's staff who does it better.
She's made sure of that.
"Good work today," she addresses the team, flying closer towards them all so that she doesn't have to magically amplify her voice anymore. She nods at the pair of Beaters. "Prewetts, the two of you especially. Your accuracy has skyrocketed this offseason."
"Thanks, Evans," one of the twins - Fabian - responds, grinning.
"Now, all of you need to go shower, take an ice bath if you need, and be ready for the scrimmage with the reserve team tomorrow." She claps her hands together. "They'll be giving you a good run for your money, especially since you still don't have a third Chaser yet."
Honestly, the fact that the first team only has two Chasers at the moment is the only reason the game against the reserves tomorrow is going to be anything but a complete blowout. The first team is a force to be reckoned with right now - easily one of the best (if not the best) team in the English League.
Lily takes pride in the fact that she's been a not-insignificant part of that.
She flies down to the ground with the players - she's got the responsibility of putting all the gear away in the storage closets, and even though she hasn't actually been practicing with them, she's been involved enough in their training today that she's also desperately in need of a shower before leaving the practice facilities.
Practices like these - where she's left totally in charge and is the primary coach on the premises for the day - are her favourites. She's not beholden to following whatever Harrison has put together as the training plan, and she gets to be just that little bit more involved in the actual practice. It's totally worth the fact that she gets stuck lugging all the supplies back to the offices, and that she's sweating so much by the time that she's finished that all of her baby hairs are plastered to her temples.
The women's side of the locker room is cleared out when she gets there - Corinne and Mari were both likely in a rush to get home, she figures. It's nice though, having a whole locker room to herself sometimes. She can take her time, washing all the grime out of her hair as she fills the shower area up with honeysuckle-scented steam.
She doesn't have anywhere else to be today - it's just this one training session on her schedule. She's got a little work to do in the office, recording practice stats and other relevant information for the other coaches who weren't at this particular training session, but that shouldn't take too long. She'll be home before noon, most likely. Maybe she'll work on stocking up her potions stores when she gets home; even though she's not doing potionmaking as a career like she'd once expected to, it's a fun hobby - and saves her quite a bit of money over buying premade brews.
Showered and fully dressed - in an only-slightly-different set of joggers and top than the ones she was wearing for practice - she uses a quick spell to dry her hair and tie it into a messy bun on the top of her head.
This is perhaps the greatest perk of working in the Quidditch world - there's absolutely no dress code.
The coaching offices - situated adjacent to the locker rooms - are predictably abandoned. It's not a particularly inviting space anyways - a long, wide hallway with dull grey walls and doors leading into each office - but the complete lack of any other human presence makes it even bleaker. Luckily, Lily's office has a window, so it's at least a little brighter than the common area.
Lily's office is also the clearest sign that she's the only woman who works here. Unlike the other members of the coaching staff, whose offices are nothing but a standard-issue chair and a desk covered in papers, Lily's is much more inviting. Her desk is a glossy golden wood, and the chair behind it is a well-worn maroon thing she'd found at some pureblood estate sale. She's got the same chalkboard set-up along one wall that all the other coaching offices have, but unlike those offices, it's not the only thing on the walls. She's got a massive Gryffindor Quidditch banner - which has been altered a bit since its original creation, but has all the important bits still there - hung up, as well as a bunch of photographs from both Hogwarts and her time here at Puddlemere.
All in all, she's made this little space feel like home in a way that none of her coworkers have even bothered to attempt.
She lingers in front of the chalkboard - it's full of training ideas, but almost all of them require three Chasers on the pitch, so she hasn't had the chance to put them to use yet this offseason.
Michael Andersson had shocked them all in the middle of the season last year, when he'd announced that the current season would be his last. He'd been the backbone of the Chaser team since Lily started working at Puddlemere, the player they could always trust to convert a solid play into a goal, and they still haven't found his replacement.
And it certainly hasn't been for lack of trying - they've been experimenting with various Chasers on the alternate team for weeks now, but the truth of the matter is that none of them are even remotely ready to take on the role as the central Chaser on the starting team.
The fact that they're a full month into the offseason without even a hint of a replacement strategy for their primary scorer has been a point of stress throughout the entire coaching staff, but the owner has seemed… strangely calm about it all. Lily imagines he's got some sort of plan in his back pocket - the Puddlemere organization has an insane amount of revenue in its back pocket, so Lily imagines his solution likely involves putting some of that money to use somehow.
She doesn't let herself think on that much longer, and instead sits down at her desk, opening the coaches' training binder to today's page.
She grabs a quill, dipping it into an inkpot, and begins to write, documenting all of the drills they'd done today, what looked strong, potential areas for improvement, all that stuff. Her handwriting is, by nature, incredibly messy, but she does her best to make it as legible as possible when she's filling out shared training documentation.
She finishes off with a note about the Prewetts' target accuracy, fanning the paper so that the ink has a chance to dry fully before she closes the book.
She's just about to take the binder out and put it on the shared shelf where it belongs, when she suddenly hears a flurry of activity in the common area. Which is odd, given that she's the only one who was meant to be here today.
When she steps out of her own office to investigate, she's suddenly face-to-face with Harrison, head coach and Lily's own boss. And as she looks around, she realises that practically the entire coaching staff has just walked in.
"What's going on?" she asks Harrison, trying to make sense of everyone's unexpected presence.
"Ah, you would've been here all morning, so I guess you didn't get owled," he answers. "Worthington called an all-staff meeting."
Well, shit. So much for going home and having the whole rest of the day to herself, she thinks. To Harrison, she just nods. "That certainly explains it. Any indication what it's about?"
"Nope," he answers, before heading off in the direction of the conference room.
She follows him, curiosity piqued. The owner of Puddlemere United calling an urgent all-staff meeting certainly isn't usual behavior, and almost certainly means that something major has happened.
When she gets into the conference room and starts to listen in on her coworkers' conversations, it becomes apparent that none of them know what's going on either. It seems Worthington hadn't given any indication of what this meeting is meant to be about in his message.
Lily slides into a chair next to Harrison just as Worthington walks into the room and closes the door behind him.
Unlike the coaching staff, who are all in various states of casual dress, Killian Worthington dons dark grey robes that are clearly rather expensive, his white hair neatly slicked back. His presence is a commanding one - the combination of money and power give him an unshakeable air of confidence and authority. So when he shuts the door and walks to the front of the room, all the chatter goes silent.
"Thank you all for coming and meeting me here on such short notice," he begins, looking around the table. "I have news to share - it's been in the works for a while now, but it's sensitive enough that I thought it prudent not to share until it was a done deal. But also, as Puddlemere's valued coaching staff, I also thought it important that you find it out from me rather than from the Prophet, who will inevitably catch wind of this news and plaster it on the front of tomorrow's sports section."
Lily sees a few other coaches exchange looks out of the corners of their eyes, but she keeps her focus on Worthington.
"I'm pleased to announce that Puddlemere now has its third starting Chaser." He claps his hands together, looking rather proud. "We've bought out James Potter's contract from Portree - he'll be joining our program effective immediately."
The room suddenly bursts into excited whispers about James Potter, the incredibly talented Chaser who's made a meteoric rise to the top of the Quidditch world over the last three years.
But for Lily's part, she thinks about James Potter, the boy she's seen only in magazines since they graduated, the boy she once thought she could've fallen in love with until he left her flying through the freefall alone, and all she can see is red.
Angry, burning red.
Seventh Year, May 1978
She's the first person he tells.
It helps that they're together when the letter arrives, revising patrol schedules at some ungodly early hour given that it's a weekend. The Great Hall is all but empty except for the two of them - the only other people here at this hour are a few young Hufflepuffs and McGonagall, who's eating alone at the high table.
He's in the middle of asking whether or not Terrence should be placed with Marina, when an envelope suddenly drops out of the sky and directly on top of the schedule he'd been consulting.
"What is - " James trails off, examining the envelope curiously. As he flips it over in his hands gingerly, Lily's eyes are immediately drawn to the dark purple seal, which James then promptly rips open.
They're on the same side of the bench, which would make it awfully easy for Lily to just read the letter over his shoulder, but instead of doing that, she finds herself watching his eyes instead. She's been doing that a lot lately - finding herself unconsciously drawn to his eyes, so expressive and vibrant even behind his thick glasses. She watches as a million tiny emotions flash through them, as he goes from squinting at the page to looking at it in what can only be described as complete and total awe.
"Bloody hell," he eventually says, before looking up at Lily. She instantly feels a bit embarrassed about the fact that she's more or less just been caught staring at him, but James doesn't even seem to register it. He's too occupied by whatever he's just read. "Did you read it? This?"
"I - " Lily stammers, still a little flustered, "no. I didn't want to - "
"Can you read it?" he asks abruptly, holding the letter out to her. "Like, aloud? Make sure I'm not just, I don't know, completely hallucinating it or anything?"
Lily blinks at him, before answering with a cautious, "Sure?"
She takes the letter from him, eyes scanning along the page as she begins to read it aloud to him. " 'Dear Mister James Potter, The coaching staff at Portree was highly impressed with your performance at our tryouts in April. As a result, we would like to offer you a position as Chaser on the first reserve team, with the potential to join the starting team as soon as next fall, contingent on your performance. The exact specifics of your contract remain up for negotiation, but we'd like for you to begin training with the team upon graduation from Hogwarts - ' "
She stops reading, looking up at him. "James, this is a - you got a professional offer."
This is the thing he's been dreaming of since he was little, and the thing he's been agonising over for the better half of seventh year. It's why he held onto the Quidditch captaincy even with his Head Boy position, why he's put so much work into the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, why he's spent pretty much every free hour down at the pitch running drills by himself.
All of it, all for this moment.
"I - holy shit, I got a professional offer," James repeats back to her, the stunned look on his face finally giving way to a blindingly bright grin.
His happiness is contagious - Lily couldn't resist smiling back at him even if she wanted to.
"I got a professional offer!" he says again, more confident this time, before immediately pulling Lily into a hug.
She's a bit stunned at first - both by the sudden hug and by how good he smells, even though that really shouldn't be surprising at this point, because she's been noticing that one for a while - but eventually, she wraps her arms around him as well, returning the gesture.
"I knew you would," she says softly, just loud enough for him to hear. "Always knew it."
He pulls back to look her in the eyes, hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, and it's like the world comes to a screeching halt in that moment. The joy in his golden-flecked eyes is something she'll easily be able to commit to memory, as easy as she knows the words to an old song. And in that moment, it's like all she wants is right there in front of her, and it would be so easy for one of them to just close the tiny amount of space between them and -
"Fuck, I should probably go tell the boys," James says, completely ruining the moment and any sort of tension or magnetism that had developed between them. "And my parents! Mum will be livid if she finds out from someone before I can get a letter to her."
Lily just smiles at him, doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heart and something she can only label as disappointment settling in her chest.
He could've kissed her then. She wanted him to kiss her then.
"You go do that," she tells him, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Wouldn't want to disappoint anyone - it's exciting news, after all."
He nods, then immediately looks down at the schedules they'd been working on, slightly panicked. "Shit, we were supposed to be - "
"I can handle it, James," she interrupts. "Go tell your mum you're going to be a professional Quidditch player."
"I - okay," he nods again. "I'll go do that. Have I told you you're the best lately?"
She flushes at that - dammit, she shouldn't be flushing like this at a simple compliment - and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Once or twice, maybe," she says, trying to act cooler than the heat in her cheeks would indicate.
"Well, you are," he confirms, before turning to the high table. "Hey Minnie! I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player!"
He takes off running out of the hall, and McGonagall doesn't even bother reprimanding him for using her first name. Instead, Lily sees a clear look of pride cross the features of their usually-stern Head of House.
Lily takes a deep breath, positive that her cheeks are about the same shade as her hair right now. He's always doing that to her, turning her bright red from the inside out, burning with something she never quite wants to label for fear of calling it love.
It seems so bright before they lose it all.