Written for the 2021 Chudley Canon Fic Fest. Prompt: Halloween.

My HC is that Jily had a really nice evening on Halloween 1981. Until... you know.


One Last Dance


Harry was fussier than usual on Halloween night. Bath time was an ordeal, as Harry kept knocking the shampoo bottle out of Lily's hand and splashing water at her. Afterward, the child almost refused to fall asleep; he wriggled in her arms and tugged on her hair as she swaddled him. Just because he couldn't speak full sentences yet didn't mean he couldn't communicate; he did so with his eyes, and Lily swore there was a smirk on his face as she rocked and sang to him, until he finally drifted off.

Lily didn't mind a fussy baby, in fact, she enjoyed the challenge. She cherished every extra moment with her child, and at exactly fifteen months, Harry's newfound spunk was nothing but evidence of his emerging personality. He had her eyes, and she wondered if he'd get James' messy hair, horrid eyesight, and infuriating charm. She grinned at the thought of a sassy and sarcastic Harry, star of the quidditch team, just like his dad. Or maybe he'd be more like Lily; sensitive and studious, top of his class, future Head Boy.

Of course, there could be nothing remarkable about him at all. He could turn out to be average, maybe even terrible at sports, or join weird clubs and get below-average marks. Even then, if her son came home for the summer excited about a slew of 'acceptables', or stressed about Gobstones club drama, he'd still be the coolest person Lily knew.

Whatever he turned out to be — head boy, quidditch captain, super-nerd, or even squib — Lily couldn't wait to find out. It was funny how determined she had been to never admit her feelings for James Potter. Her feelings were always there, but that boy had to work hard for her affection. All Harry had to do was laugh, or sneeze, or wrap his tiny fingers around her pinky, and Lily was a goner.

With the stubborn child finally asleep, Lily shuffled downstairs to find that James had already cleaned up dinner in the kitchen and was pouring two generous glasses of wine, almost as if he read her mind.

He beamed when he saw her — one of her favorite things about him was that he made no effort to hide his feelings, ever — and slid the glass across the countertop.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, raising the glass to her lips. It was bitter to the taste but relented into a friendlier, fruitier flavor once Lily committed to a sip.

She never knew she could relate so much to a glass of wine.

"Halloween," said James. "I know you love it, and I'm sorry we couldn't celebrate the muggle way."

Halloween was always Lily's favorite holiday growing up. There was something comforting about everyone's sudden suspension of disbelief and willingness to face what scared them. She wished muggles would have embraced the paranormal every day, it surely would have made her life easier.

"It's okay," she said. "It has to be this way."

Lily wished they could hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, but the neighborhood muggles couldn't see their home; not while it was under the Fidelius Charm. Staying hidden wasn't what she had imagined when moving to a mixed-magical community, but for now, it was the safest option. The only option.

James met her on the other side of the kitchen island, interrupting her thoughts with two fingers under her chin. "Definitely next year," he said before tilting her head up for a kiss.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she smiled against his lips, wondering if Harry's ability to make her heart explode was just as hereditary as his bright green eyes. There was something about those Potter boys that knocked her off her feet.

Maybe James was right, and next year, things would be different. They could get to know their non-magical neighbors, and Lily could take Harry trick-or-treating. He'd look so cute dressed up as a hippogriff, and no one would bat an eye when he'd insist it was a real animal. Kids say the darndest things, and on Halloween, anything was possible.

"Next year, for sure." Lily took another swig of her wine and relished in the evolution of its flavor, a delicious reminder that things change, sometimes so fast that she might blink and miss it. Things weren't perfect by any means — they were in the middle of a war, after all — but there was no shortage of good in their lives. Not everyone could say they had a happy family, loyal friends, and really good wine.

"Dance with me?" asked James, setting his wine down next to hers and tugging gently on her arm.

It didn't take much to lure her into the open space of the living room and settle into the crook of his neck. There was no music, but that didn't matter; if there had been a beat, they would probably have ignored it anyway.

"Do you remember the first time we ever danced?"

She nodded against his shoulder. Of course she remembered.

It was Halloween, sixth year, and James and Lily had been alone in the common room.

"Happy Halloween, Lily," said James as he approached her. "Today, you're not a freak."

Out of context, it might have sounded like senseless teasing, but it was so much more than that. She stared back at him, mouth agape, and wasn't sure how to respond. It had been years — years — since they had talked about Halloween, and somehow he remembered a passing comment from her eleven-year-old self.

"You remember that?" she asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

It was her answer to an ice-breaker game during their first year — 'what's your favorite holiday and why?' She hadn't expected the confused stares at her response. In the muggle world, Halloween was the only day when she didn't feel weird. Now, Halloween, and the fact that it meant something different to her than to everyone else, meant it was the only day when she did.

However, she'd happily settle for one single day of being a freak; it was much better than three hundred and sixty-four.

"Of course I remember," said James, smiling at her. His grin was electric, almost zapping through his messy black hair. Then, he reached out a questioning hand and raised his eyebrows. She stared back at him, wishing he would just use his words, yet she was impressed that with her, he didn't need to. James always wore his thoughts on his face, in plain sight for the world to see, and never seemed to feel any shame or embarrassment for expressing them.

It touched a nerve for Lily, who had spent most of her life hiding. She longed for him to have to explain himself for once, to actually verbalize his thoughts instead of coasting by in his utopia where people just understood him. It wasn't fair. "What are you asking, James?"

"Dance with me?" he clarified. His voice was annoyingly calm and collected as if he knew she had been expecting him to elaborate, yet aware that he didn't have to. He didn't even flinch at her incredulous stare, confident in his request, as if asking her to dance was the most obvious progression to wishing her a happy Halloween.

"Why?" She steadied her hands firmly by her sides, hoping James didn't see her fingers twitch toward his.

"To celebrate Halloween, of course." His cheeks were rosy, his eyes sparkling, and his continued lack of reaction was curious. Despite her rejection, he committed to holding out his hand with confidence.

"People don't dance on Halloween."

"I'm people, and I dance on Halloween," laughed James.

She looked at his hand and considered it. Despite a few accidental brushes of her hand while taking notes or passing in the hallway, she had never actually touched him. And Lily had always been the curious type.

James followed her gaze to his hand and playfully wiggled his fingers.

"Okay," she said, placing her hand in his. His touch was gentle, firm, confident. It felt nice. "But there's no music."

"We don't need any," he said, pulling on her arm so that her body pressed up against his. It might have been too forward if she hadn't fit so perfectly, but honestly, standing any further from him would have felt like sitting upright in a reclining chair. "If there was music, I'd probably ignore the beat, anyway."

"You would?" His soft voice immediately put her at ease in his arms, even though her palms were sweating and her heart was picking up its pace. "Why?"

"I'm too distracted," he said. "Wasn't expecting you to say yes."

Lily laughed. "Then why'd you risk asking?"

"Anything is possible on Halloween, right?"

His arms tightened around her just then, not in a forceful way, just comfortable and supportive. She let herself get lost in the moment, swaying with James by the crackling fire, actually smelling, not imagining, his cologne, and feeling the prickle of his stubble against her forehead — when did that grow in?

Maybe the next day, they'd go back to their usual dynamic, somewhere between flirting and arguing, annoyance and admiration. Or maybe, this would change things. There was something about the Potter boy and his messy black hair, unruly and uncaring, his glasses that should have made him look like a nerd but didn't, and his annoying charisma that had an effect on her. It wasn't a secret; they were both aware of it, yet neither felt the need to acknowledge it. At least not yet. They were so young, and they had so much time.

"Was that when it all changed for you?" asked James, pulling her back to the present. "Is that when you finally gave in to my charm?"

Lily smiled at her husband. "Nothing changed that day. Nothing ever changed."

James smiled, and Lily leaned into the sharpness of his stubble, a few lazy days unshaven. She melted against him and held him tight. Although his belly was softer, his voice was deeper, the circles under his eyes were darker, reflecting fifteen months of erratic sleep schedules, nothing about him had changed.

The moment was broken by the sobering sound of a baby crying. Both Lily and James groaned as they pulled away from one another and swiftly turned their focus to their child.

"I'll put him back to bed," said Lily.

"I can do it," interrupted James. "You bathed him."

Lily thought of the miniature James crying in his crib, and her heart clenched. It had only been minutes since she last snuggled him, and she already missed the child. "I really want to," she said.

James nodded, but his gaze was not on Lily. "Okay. I will meet you upstairs, then. I want to check the wards — I thought I saw some movement outside."

Lily squinted at the window, her heart rate rising.

"It's probably nothing," said James.

Reaching for her half-full glass of wine, Lily nodded. "Alright, I'll meet you upstairs. I love you."

"Love you too."

With one last glance at her husband, Lily made her way up the stairs toward Harry.

Harry, the child who always scrunched up his face when he slept, pursing his lips and crinkling his nose like he just ate a lemon. The boy with her eyes and James' smile, who was already the best kid ever, even though his personality had yet to be determined. The kid who had a temper, but always calmed down the moment his mother wrapped her arms around him, the stubborn, determined one who could melt Lily's heart with a single look.

Her son, Harry, who she couldn't wait to watch grow up, yet she hoped would never change.