The day after Boxing Day, Lily Evans awoke in her bed in Cokeworth the same way she had for the past three mornings: with a pillow striking her hard on the head.

"Wake up, you pervert." Petunia was snarling, standing over her, hitting her again.

Lily tore the pillow out of Petunia's grasp and swatted at her knees with it. "Leave me alone, Petty. I'm only sleeping."

Petunia stood clear of the pillow's range, her hands on her hips, lip curled. "Hardly. You've been lying there thrashing and moaning every morning this week, you sick freak. I've had enough of your disgusting, slaggy, witchy meeting with your fancy man in your sleep"

Lily pulled her own pillow over her head.

Petunia huffed. "She doesn't deny it."

"I do deny it," Lily answered, shouting, but barely peeking out from beneath her pillow. "Of course I do. They don't even teach astral projection at our school. I was just sleeping, not even dreaming."

It felt true until she said it. Had she been dreaming or not? There were no threads of any unfinished stories in her head, like there are when we're jolted out of a dream. And if she had been dreaming, was it one of THOSE dreams? She didn't have a memory of a dream, but maybe a sense of one remained. Her heart rate felt fast, her fingertips were tingling. But she was fighting with Petunia now, her body's systems shocked out of sleep into self defense.

But what if it wasn't just an effect of the pillow attack? What if Petunia was right and it was one of THOSE dreams? Could it have anything to do with James - specifically, personally?

Petunia growled her disgust one last time, swept her pillow from the floor, smoothing its slip, setting it neatly to her bed. She would have liked to slam the door as she went, but their father hadn't come home from the mill until five o'clock that morning and was still asleep.

Alone in the bedroom, Lily freed her head from beneath her pillow. She stretched between her sheets, arching her back, and as she did, she felt it, the lingering traces of something activated in a part of her that had never had anything to do with Petunia. And as she felt it, James filled her thoughts, her feelings.

For a moment, she felt good - desired and powerful. Though she was grateful she didn't remember a single detail of it. How embarrassing would it be if she had an image of something like that in her mind when she saw James later today, blushing and nervous after meeting him in a dream where they had -

Lily sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding harder now, and not out of fondness. What did she really know about wizarding intimacy? She didn't have any trusted magical adults in her life to teach her about it. Could Petunia be right? Were the lines between sleeping and waking as strict and uncrossable in wizard dreams as they were among other people?

They were definitely different in divination dreaming. The porous barrier between dreams and wakefulness was the whole point of divination by dreaming. It was the source of its power. And aside from dreams being more connected to reality for wizards in general, they tended to be more real for Lily even among wizards. She was an aspiring diviner herself with one prophecy orb already to her credit.

What did that mean for dreams like these? When she felt James vibrating through every cell of her body while she slept, he wasn't actually here in her bed, in smokey Cokewoth with Petunia sneering at them from across the room. Lily knew that. But what she didn't know was whether some part of his essence was there all the same, in touch with hers. What if he was here, locked so deep in her no one else knew? Maybe it wouldn't happen for all wizards, but what about for ones who had reason to believe they were soulmates? Or wizards someone else was trying to convince that they were soulmates, the fated parents of a Chosen One?

Lily bolted out of bed, looking frantically for something she might have lost. Or was it for something she might have gained? That star chart on the desk at the Potters' house - what if the not-as-sweet-as-they-seemed old couple with a propensity for spying on their son and his friends was using what they knew of soulmate magic to reach her here, to bring James to her, to set in motion something that would bring about their Chosen One grandchild while she slept on innocently?

Grabbing a bra, Lily wriggled into it inside her pajamas top as she jammed her feet into a pair of slippers. She would have had to walk past Petunia and her mother to get her coat from the front hall closet so she left without it, turning on the rug and disapparating with a crack.

The sound had been loud in her bedroom but it was lost in the place where she arrived, in the kitchen of the Potters' manor. James and Sirius were sitting over their breakfast porridge. Lily could smell Monty's morning coffee but there was no other sign of him or Effie in the kitchen. James was rising to his feet, his face blooming into a smile even as Lily bared her teeth and rushed at him.

"They need to stop it," she said, crowding him, forcing him back until his legs hit the edge of the table, her forefinger pointed at his face.

Sirius whistled, his chair scraping over the floor as he pushed himself clear of them. "Well, I'm off to Remus's a bit early then. Best of luck, James."

There was still a hint of a smile about James even as he faced his angry visitor. "Stop? Stop what? I haven't done anything to you since Christmas Eve, Evans. And I seem to recall that you liked it fine."

James was reaching for her waist but she caught his wrists and held them up to the height of his shoulders. "The dreams, Potter. How are they doing the dreams? And what does it mean? And are they doing it to make me - "

"What in the stars are you on about?" James shouted back at her, twisting his wrists, trying to get out of the awkward position she held him in without using too much force. "Who is 'they'?"

"Don't you play stupid with me. Your parents. You must have been dreaming it too. Haven't you?" With the question, she pushed harder at his wrists, upsetting his equilibrium.

"Dreaming what? I'm an extremely sound sleeper. I hardly remember dreaming at all," James stammered as he jostled from one foot to another, looking for his lost balance. "And as for my parents - what could they possibly - "

"You tell me - " Lily's words were lost in a yelp as James's weight pulled her forward. He was falling backward onto the top of the breakfast table, and since Lily wasn't letting go of his wrists, she was falling with him. The dishes jumped with their impact, spilling a bowl full of mucky porridge milk.

James moved to use his hands to push himself upright, but Lily kept her hold on them, binding them to the table with all her strength. She looked so adorably fierce, looming over him, earnestly believing she was strong enough to keep him there, that James had to laugh.

"Stay here and answer my questions, Potter. It's not funny!" Lily yelled into his face as she held him down.

"No, not at all," James smirked. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm just very happy to see you. Whether you're inexplicably mad at me or not - " He left off teasing abruptly, noisily. The trail of spilled milk had made its way along the tabletop, soaking through the fabric of his shirt and onto the sensitive flesh at his waist. James yipped and twisted away from the cold wetness, driving one side of his pelvis up into Lily as she stood bent over at the waist between his knees.

"Don't!" she called out, greatly alarmed at the contact.

"Right," James said, easily raising both his arms even as Lily still held them, sitting up on the edge of the table, and lacing their fingers together. "Stop rampaging through our kitchen and tell me what's happened. Please."

She let her breath out, her anger deflating, her body sinking against James's. "I don't want to get pregnant yet."

He made a sound between a sigh and a gasp. "Then don't. Please don't. Unless you've got another boyfriend, you're not. I can guarantee you're not pregnant by me."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes," he answered, almost laughing. "Positively. Your mother seems like a practical person. Has she never explained to you how pregnancy happens?"

He was joking but Lily's head snapped up, her chin on his sternum. "What about your mother?" she said. "She thinks we're soulmates, and last I heard from her, she said we need to either abandon each or conceive the Chosen One. And - well, we seem to still be together - "

"Definitely," James said.

"So," Lily said in a tiny, nervous voice, "so could she and your father be doing some kind of magical projection, taking advantage of the soulmate thing to bring you to me in my sleep to - to - so a baby could - you know?"

James's eyes widened. "Are you telling me you've been dreaming that you and me - that we - . Stars, Lily. That's - well, how - how was it?"

She batted at his chest. "That is hardly the point. And no, it's not like that. I can't remember any details at all, but I wake up with this - this feeling. And Petunia says I've been making noises."

James was speechless, mouth agape, no noises at all.

"Quit imagining it," Lily chided him. "Do I need to pour more cold milk on you?"

He gave his head a sharp shake. "Right. Sorry."

"The whole thing couldn't be more embarrassing," she said, stepping out of his reach. "And now I have to ask you to march into your father's study to confront them and to and demand to know everything about soulmate magic, including whether this kind of - of contact during dreaming is even possible."

James pushed himself off the table. "Library," he said. "We don't need to row with my parents again - not yet. We just need their library. It's got more than moving atlases in it. If my parents know anything more about soulmate magic than what they've already told us, it will be in there."

She followed him through the hall to the library. The cold, milky wet spot on the back of his shirt kept grazing his skin and making him wince as he walked. He muttered a summoning spell to bring himself a clean shirt from his room.

The library door closed behind them just as James began to unbutton his dirty shirt.

"Honestly, James," Lily said, pouncing on him and pulling the fronts of his shirt back together.

"What? It's not as if you haven't seen it all in your dreams."

"I told you, it's not like that," she said. "And whether it's real or not still remains to be seen."

James smiled. "Well, I think the fact that you feel like my stripping off in front of you right now would be unprecedented is a very good sign that whatever you've dreamed isn't real. If you were too comfortable with my bare torso - that would be cause for concern. Don't you think?"

Lily let go of James's shirt. "You're right," she said. "I'll be with the books. I won't even look at you while you change."

"Suit yourself," he said. "S for soulmates. Should be somewhere on that far wall."

Lily was standing on a step stool, reaching high into the S section when James approached and draped a fuzzy brown cardigan over her shoulders. "Take this," he said. "It's a poor excuse for a Christmas present, but it's draughty here, and your pajamas are a bit on the sheer side for paying social calls."

She looked down at herself, at the too visible outlines of her bra beneath her thin white top specked with the tiny navy blue daisies. She'd had these pajamas for years and there were nearly worn out. She hugged herself. "Oh, sorry."

James gave a low laugh. "Don't be sorry. I'm not covering you up for me. And I must say," he said, still behind her, doubling his arms over hers as she hugged herself, "I'm enjoying the sight and feel of you wearing my clothes more than I can tell you."

She turned her face toward where he had rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing his cheek. "Good, because I didn't bring a present for you. Nothing but wild accusations. I'm sorry."

From over her shoulder, James kissed her cheek in return. This boy - he didn't feel like someone who tricked her into carrying on with him in her dreams. He felt more like a gentleman, a sweetheart.

"I've got to get back," she said. "Mum is going to want my help getting ready for your and Dad's epic meeting. But I've got this book now. And here, you read this other one. They're both about soulmates and between the two of us, we'll figure this dreaming business out."

"You're going already? But we just got you calmed down and sweet," James sulked through a smirk.

"I will see you in four hours," she said. "Stay here and read your book. No need to walk me out to the veranda. I haven't brushed my teeth yet this morning so there will be no snogging."

He took his chances, and followed her out all the same.

Vernon had arrived first. James could tell by the car parked in the street in front of the Evans's house. He stood at the end of the walk for a moment, gathering strength, remembering the Shakespearian battle cry from Henry V that he and Lily had recited the last time he stood here.

"For Harry, England, and Saint George!"

He set off, head held high as he knocked and waited for Lily to let him in. Only it wasn't Lily who opened the door. It was a stocky man in a T-shirt with the name of the town of Leicester and a tiger head logo on it. He made no move to hide that he was looking James over from head to foot, sizing him up, noting with some distaste that James was slightly taller than himself. This was Lily's father, Mitch Evans.

"James Potter, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"In ye come."

James stepped inside, Mitch and himself crowding each other in the small vestibule. If he wasn't mistaken, James could hear quite a lot of swearing and coughing coming from the kitchen.

"Lil-lay!" Mitch called. "He's here."

Breathless, Lily came scuffing to a halt in the kitchen doorway. She nodded to James, blushing infuriatingly for her father to see. "We've had a mishap, with the cooking," she said. "So we'll be eating late. If that's quite convenient."

The Evanses seemed to be looking at James, Lily worried he might have something else pressing in his schedule, Mitch daring him to.

"What? No, I've nothing on today but being here," James said. "Can I help in the kitchen?"

Mitch saw it, the way James looked Lily in the eye and she immediately looked away, as if he was too dazzling to behold here in her humble house.

"Right," he said, throwing an arm as thick as a railroad tie around James's shoulders. "We'll have no guests slaving in our kitchen today. And no worries, Lil. Me and Vernon will keep Jim occupied until Mum gets dinner sorted."

James was pulled into the lounge, Lily trailing after them, forcing herself not to wring her hands.

Vernon was already sitting on the settee, a newspaper spread wide in front of his face as he read a page of sports statistics.

"Vernon," Mitch called to him. "You've met Jim?"

Vernon lowered the paper. "Indeed."

Mitch let go of James and nudged him into a stiff, wooden armchair.

"How are our boys doing, Vernon?" Mitch asked. "Hard to keep up with the league standings when I'm on nights."

"Disappointing showing on Boxing Day," Vernon said.

Mitch grumbled. "You follow rugby, Jim?"

James's mouth opened and closed, he lifted each of his feet off of the carpet to look beneath them. What in the world was a rug bee? "No, I'm afraid not, sir," James admitted.

Mitch hummed. "Football's your game then?"

James knew this one. Football was played with one ball and two nets on great green fields and it had professional leagues. But his knowing this would not impress Mitch. "Also no," he said through a pained smile.

Mitch sat down in his own armchair. "You're not one for sports?"

"Oh no, Dad," Lily was saying, hovering behind James's chair. "James is brilliant at sports. It's just that the ones at our school are different. And they're not on the telly."

Mitch was lighting a cigarette. "Different, eh? But you do go in for them, Jim?"

"Oh, yes," Lily was saying, almost gushing. "James is the captain of one of the school teams. Quite an athlete. Though it's more about agility than strength."

"Flanker," Mitch went on, speaking to James again. "Our Vernon's game is rugby, and he's a flanker. Opposite of you. More about size than agility. Isn't that right, Vernon?"

"Indeed, Mitch," Vernon answered.

"Oi," Mitch said, waved his cigarette hand into Vernon's newspaper. "Take us for a ride in that flash car of yours while Cheryl gets dinner sorted."

This was what finally caught Vernon's attention, and he was folding his paper and reaching for his keys.

"Come on, Lil," Mitch said, waving everyone out of the room.

"Where is she going?" Petunia snapped as they filed past the kitchen door. "Lily can scarper off with the men while the rest of us stay here and cook? Is that how it is now?"

"Don't make trouble between the girls, Mitch," Cheryl called from the stove. "Leave Lily here."

"For stars sake," Lily fumed, "it's almost 1978 and you all still want to leave the women in the kitchen while the men toy around in someone's new car?"

"Enough of that, Lily," Cheryl said. "Come peel this second round of potatoes."

Lily set her mouth in a line, as if to argue. James looked terrified at the thought of all the Evans women rowing, but Mitch just smiled and took Lily's hand. "Please stay and lend a hand this time, love. Your mother's had a hard week."

She sighed and shifted from foot to foot. "I will for you, Dad."

"There's my girl." Mitch pecked her cheek and led Vernon and James outside.

Vernon let him into the front seat and left James to grapple with getting into the back himself.

"Well, well," Mitch crowed. "Isn't this nice? You've done well for yourself Vernon. Did you know, Jim, that Vernon has already made director at his company?"

James had no idea what that meant, but answered, "Has he? That's smashing."

"Yes, that's where he met our Petunia, there in the upper offices where she's a clerk. Good career move on her part, isn't it?" Mitch laughed.

Vernon laughed along. "The opportunity is all mine," he said.

"Take us out on the motorway," Mitch said, clapping Vernon on the shoulder. "Show us what kind of speed it's got."

Vernon was happy to oblige, passing every car ahead of them.

"Off into a lane now," Mitch said. "Somewhere quiet. Let's see how tight the turning circle is and all of that."

Vernon wheeled over the frozen ground of an empty field, tugging the wheel left and right to show the car's superior handling. James was lost, trying hard to understand how the car was moving about without magic but finding it clunky and noisy compared to magical conveyance.

Finally, Mitch asked Vernon to stop so they could admire the car from the outside too. The three of them stood in the field, Vernon leaning back, his hands in his pockets, beaming at his car. Mitch tapped its rear tire with the toe of his boot. "What does your family drive, Jim?" Mitch asked.

James startled. "What do they drive?"

"Yeah, what kind of car do your parents own," Mitch pressed. "They sound like the posh type. So what is it? Bentley? Maybe a Rolls Royce?"

James wasn't sure it was a serious question. Both Vernon and Mitch were laughing, half curious about how James lived, but also half making fun of him. It peeved him enough that James said, "We don't use cars much. Maybe as a novelty for a few Muggle studies hobbyists, but not as a rule."

"How do you get about then?" Vernon boomed. "Layin' a finger aside of your nose?"

For some reason, Mitch burst with laughter at this ridiculous suggestion. "Mind your manners, Vernon," he said, wiping his eyes. "No really, Jim. I know your lot has got that train to the school. And Lily had us sign the permission slip to take that test to pop herself around the country last year. But isn't there some kind of vehicle for you? A fast machine you can be proud of?"

All at once, James understood. "Ah, like this," he said. From his coat, James produced what looked like a very stiff paintbrush.

Vernon snorted, doubling over laughing.

"No, Jim," Mitch bawled at him. "No, not like that at all."

"Hang on," James said, and he flicked his wrist. In an instant, the paint brush was a full-sized racing broom.

Vernon collapsed on the ground, paralysed with laughter.

"No, Jim," Mitch was shouting again. "It's Christmas, son, not Halloween. Ye won't be flying a broomstick like a witch now."

James frowned. "A witch? You mean, like Lily? Why ever not?" There was no way for James to shut Vernon up than to climb onto the broom.

"Jim, stop. There's no need for you to - " But Mitch's protests fell abruptly silent as James drifted into the sky with no sound more than a gentle, breezy whistle.

"Vernon, hush," Mitch said as James began to rise before their eyes. "Blimey, Jim. You really are…"

Mitch couldn't finish. Beside him, Vernon had got to his feet, gawking at James, forgetting to brush away the snow stuck to his coat.

"How high does that thing go?" Mitch asked.

James swooped up, as high as the leafless tops of the oak trees lining the field. "As high as anything. It's the rider who limits the altitude, what with the air thinning out as we go."

"How fast?" Vernon croaked.

James shrugged. "Dunno, really. It's the latest model. A Christmas gift. Test it. Make a snowball and throw it as far as you can."

Mitch stooped to form a projectile out of the soggy snow at his feet. "You're going to race my snowball?"

James smirked. "No, I'm going to catch it. Don't tell me where it's heading. I'll get to it while it's still airborne anyway."

Vernon was swearing as he packed together a snowball of his own. "Insufferably cocky little son of a…"

Without any warning, Mitch dipped his knees low and threw his snowball straight up. James shot after it, not only catching up to it before it reversed toward the ground again, but turning the bristles of his broom into it so it broke apart to shower clods of snow down on Mitch and Vernon as they watched.

Mitched cheered, but Vernon grit his teeth and lobbed his snowball hard at James's head. James met it not with his head but with one arm extended to bat it away. He laughed and turned in a fast loop in celebration. "Stopped! Not bad for a chaser, eh?"

James leveled out and circled around the clearing, a streak of black and grey whirling around the two Muggle men. He came to a stop next to Mitch, levitating evenly at his side.

"Can Lily do that and all?" was what Mitch asked first.

"She's a competent flyer, yeah," James allowed, not volunteering anything about how cute she looked leisurely flying around when required to at school.

Mitch stood straighter, proud of his girl. "But you're a competitive flyer, aren't you Jim. That's your 'different' sort of sport, isn't it?"

"We call it quidditch," he said, launching into what he hoped was a simple explanation.

Mitch nodded along. "That thing you're sat on - "

"The broom?"

The word made Mitch cringe. "What have you. It wouldn't work for me, would it?"

James raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure. Not on your own, but my dad used to fly me around a bit, when I was little and couldn't do it myself. I suppose we could try to - "

"Does he look little to you, you moron?" Vernon spat.

"Easy, Vernon," Mitch said. "No need to get pissy with the lad."

"The lad? As if he's some harmless - " Vernon was sputtering, nearly choking. "This whole thing is just ludicrous. Floating broomsticks - in broad daylight - "

"I've been careful. We're well away from the road," James said in a tone he considered placating but Vernon heard as patronizing. "And just in case, I've put a concealment on this whole area."

"A concealment?" Vernon shouted. "You mean to tell me we're completely covered in some magic trick? Right now? Take it off! You take it off me this instant!"

"Easy, Vernon!" Mitch said.

"I will not go easy," Vernon said. "I am getting in the car and heading straight back to Petunia. I hope you'll come with me, Mitch. But one way or another, I'm leaving immediately. This bloody devil show-off can stay right here, for all I care."

Mitch shook himself, taking one last look at the broom. "Come along then, Jim. Let's be off with Vernon. It'll upset Lily if we come back separately."

James nodded, reduced his broom to paintbrush size, and stashed it in his coat. "Right."

The ride home was not quiet. Mitch spent the whole time banging on about rug bees, defusing Vernon's rage.

James was angry himself and angry at himself. How could he let a windbag like Vernon speak to him that way? He never would have stood for it at school.

But at the same time, why had he performed like a magical monkey for Mitch? When was he ever going to grow up and become a proper adult who could fit himself into Lily Evans's complicated life? Was this how she felt all the time? Out of sorts in the wizarding world where those idiot Death Eaters hounded her about not having a magical lineage, and then out of sorts outside the wizarding world for not being non-magical enough? In Vernon Dursley's backseat, James stewed about it, gripping the handle of the car door hard enough to nearly spill himself out onto the motorway.

Dinner was ready when they arrived home. Over boiled potatoes and a roast beef, Petunia retold the story of how one of Vernon's fellow executives had asked his secretary to get Petunia to bring coffee and sandwiches for two to a special noon-hour meeting in Vernon's office, only to find the meeting was actually a blind date.

"And how about the pair of you now?" Cheryl asked, looking away from where Petunia brushed her nose against Vernon's to where Lily and James sat at the table without touching or looking at each other. "School sweetheart stories are like office ones: the same, but different where it counts."

Lily glanced at James, prodding him with her elbow. "It's only right that you start it."

James began with a small laugh. "I saw Lily the first day of school, seven years ago. And I just liked her, for no reason I can explain. I liked her so well, I had to hate her best friend - "

Cheryl frowned. "You hated Marlene?"

"No, Severus Snape," James said.

Cheryl and Mitch looked at each other across the table, puzzled, not remembering. Mitch shrugged.

"The lonely vampire boy," Lily clarified.

There was a chorus of ahs and nods.

"So nasty little James and his mates were at vicious odds with Severus all the way into fifth year," Lily explained as James hid his face in his hands. "And then one day, it stopped. Just like that. James ignored us."

"Sick with embarrassment. Couldn't face her anymore after my extended awfulness," James said.

"But I missed him," Lily said, her voice soft, almost tremulous. "All of sixth year only seeing and hearing him from a distance - it was so empty. I didn't miss his rowing with Severus. But I did miss him, and terribly."

James was quiet, eyes fixed on Lily as if there was no one else in the room. Cheryl and Mitch saw that this pair of kids had never before told this story to each other. This was something of a confession, full of pain, forgiveness, tenderness, and longing.

"And then," Lily resumed, "unexpectedly, the headmaster chose us to be Head Boy and Girl together."

"From then," James said, "it was only a matter of time. We spoke everyday. Shared an office. Worked together." He shifted his hand on the table to cover hers, the way his old parents did to show affection for each other. Truly, the connection between James and Lily was old, older than their meeting when they were eleven, old as their souls.

They didn't move to embrace each other further, or to say anything more. They only sat in silence, hand in hand, alone but at a crowded table.

Mitch cleared his throat. "It's dark outside now. If you're going to ride that contraption of yours home, Jim, hadn't you better be on your way soon?"

Lily startled, as if surprised to find her family still sitting so close to them. "Oh no, Dad. James won't be flying home tonight."

"No, I reckon I will be," James said. "The cold is invigorating. It will do me good. I've got an important book to read at home, so I need to be awake." He stood up, excusing himself, offering his thanks for the hospitality, even thanking Vernon for the ride in the car.

He and Lily took leave of each other in the back garden instead of the front this time. James's broom was left leaning against the wall as he took her in his arms and kissed her goodbye. But it was for more than goodbye. It was for those years when they thought they were adversaries, not yet ready for each other, but already feeling the pull, the gravity of their twin stars. Maybe it was the stars making James's hands burn against her skin this time, as they stood in the cold and he held her face and caressed her neck beneath her hair.

"It's been an entire week," he murmured against her lips, his breath ragged and quick from their kiss. "Let me say it, Lily. Please let me say it. It's truer now than it was even an hour ago."

She pressed her cheek against his. "You can whisper it, right into my ear, for me alone."

She closed her eyes, her hands gripped to James's arms, bracing herself as he told her, "I love you."