Oh, the tale's the same
Told before and told again
A soul that's born in cold and rain
Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
At last, can grant a name
To be buried in a burning flame
As love in its decisive pain,
Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
-Sunlight, Hozier
...
The season slipped further into autumn as the leaves fell, and the driving winds drew the Hogwarts student body indoors. Halloween came and went, and a spectacularly planned prank, while perfectly functional and embarrassing for all involved, lacked full-hearted participation as James found himself otherwise occupied. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in what Sirius and Lupin and Peter had planned, he was. But the joy of pranking had dissipated, it wasn't as fun as it once was. A year ago, the opportunity to humiliate Snape would've warmed the cockles of James' heart, to see him humiliated, lesser, somehow in Lily's eyes would've done wonders for him. Snape was a slimy git; there was no getting around that. But he had loved Lily once, loved her and lost her, and James would rather a painful death than to do the same.
Halfway through November, in the middle of Charms, Lily got a note from Florence Hornby detailing a meeting scheduled with Dumbledore for later that week. She had James exchanged looks, so far as everybody knew (and the knowledge that an Auror had cursed a student was gossip that took less than three hours to span the castle some weeks before), the business with Moody was over. The patrols of the Aurors were more regulated, groups of two patrolling both the grounds and the castle at all hours of day and night, with Prefects and teachers escorting students to their classes. And hadn't Crouch said himself that he would deal with Moody? What use was there in bringing everything back up again?
"What's that about, then?" James whispered, and Lily shrugged, her eyes on Flitwick while she tucked the note into her cardigan pocket.
The lesson had never seemed to move so slowly, James thought, twiddling with the end of his quill. What did Dumbledore want with them? Was it about the secret defence group that he was supposedly the leader of? His heart seemed to skip a beat, did Dumbledore want him and Lily to join up?
Lily looked all the while straight ahead, apparently non-perturbed about the rapid fluttering of James' heart and focused on the complicated extension spell Flitwick was teaching them. What was she thinking about? Would she want to join up, should it come to it?
Sirius nudged, and James snapped forward, his attention fixed to what he supposed was a question posed in his direction.
"Mr. Potter," Flitwick squeaked, tottering on a pile of books. "I asked you a question,"
"What about?"
The class laughed, and James grinned. Flitwick, however, was not amused and creased his eyebrows as he repeated his initial inquiry.
"Extension charms?" James said, rolling up his shirtsleeves and readying his wand. "Bit tricky, but nothing I can't handle,"
He turned towards the book bag beside him and said the incantation with ease. Nothing appeared to happen until Marlene sunk her arm to the shoulder in Lily's book bag and came up grinning.
"Top marks, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said, clearly impressed. "Take ten points. Raise your wands, everyone! Remember to annunciate..."
"Thanks, James," Lily said at the end of the lesson, packing up her things in a now spacious book bag.
"Oh, it's no trouble," James said, grinning back at her. "Now you won't be after me for quills with all the room you have,"
"No trouble, eh Prongs?" Lupin said, ruffling the top of James' hair. "Old hat, by now,"
"Course," James said, grinning at his friends. "When did we learn that one?"
"Oh years ago," Sirius said from behind them. "What are you doing tonight, James?"
"This and that," James said, his gaze past Sirius' shoulder. "Why do you ask?"
"I've got something I'd like your opinion on," Sirius said, his tone turning cold. "but if you're too busy snogging Evans, I won't bother you with it,"
"That's not fair," James said, embarrassed for coming to the same conclusion as Sirius had. "I have got a lot of homework, is all. And the Quidditch team to placate, and patrols to coordinate with the Aurors. Plus that essay Slughorn assigned, I'll be dead before Christmas hols,"
"You can't do anything about Quidditch, Dumbledore suspended it," Lupin said, and James shrugged as if that wasn't the real problem. "And you have the Prefects to help with patrols, and Lily's your partner for a reason. You need to learn to delegate,"
Peter snorted, and Sirius shot him a dirty look, which sent Peter into a fit of sputtering coughs. Sirius rolled his eyes and hefted his bookbag further up his shoulder. "I've got something to check on in the Muggle Studies classroom in the off chance that you miss me,"
"Pads, come on,"
"See you later, Moony, Wormtail,"
"Sirius, that isn't fair," Lupin said, but Sirius was already halfway down the corridor.
"What's with him?" James asked.
"I don't know what you were expecting," Remus said, "he's jealous, is all,"
"Jealous?" James exclaimed, loud enough that both Peter and Remus shushed him. "What's he to be jealous about? I'm the one with all the work to do,"
"You're his best mate," Remus exclaimed, and Peter nodded vigorously. "You've got a new girlfriend, and you live in a separate dormitory with her, away from the rest of us. You're busy with all of those things," James began to protest, but Remus continued. "None of which is your fault! Okay, rowing with Lily and being put in that dormitory you shack up in was your fault, but the rest of it is circumstantial. He's jealous because he thinks you prefer Evans over him,"
"Bullshit,"
"Is it, though?" Remus said. "Because I don't think he's too far off the mark,"
The bell rang, and they followed Flitwick down to McGonagall's classroom on the first floor. While he knew Remus was only trying to cheer him up, he was pissed. Beyond pissed. What right did Sirius have to have a go at him? At him! They were best mates, didn't he know that? His relationship with Lily was different. It was complicated, yes. But he loved her—loved her differently than he loved the Marauders, even Sirius.
And to James, that wasn't a bad thing. Sirius was his best mate, but what was he expecting? They weren't about to stay seventeen forever; sooner or later, one of them was going to move on with their lives. Get a girlfriend, get engaged and married and have a family. They weren't going to be the most influential people in the other's lives forever.
McGonagall was at the door when they entered, receiving them with a look around the corner while they made their way to their seats. James didn't look up at her greeting, putting his things down with perhaps more force than necessary at the back of the classroom. If Sirius wanted to row, it was his job to make it up to him. He wasn't about to go grovelling at anyone's feet for something he hadn't even done.
But if McGonagall had noticed his outburst, she said nothing and began teaching as if nothing was amiss. Sirius came just before the final bell rang, sitting beside Frank Longbottom on the other side of the classroom. James tried not to look at him, but really. Longbottom? James would rather sit on his own, good God. He was a decent Keeper, but a lousy conversationalist. Was James suddenly not good enough to sit beside anymore?
"Knock it off," Remus whispered as James seethed. "You've burnt a hole in the back of Sirius' head figuratively; I wouldn't prefer you do so literally,"
James huffed and sat back in his chair, fiddling with his favourite quill. Lily was sitting with Marlene in front of them, and the long line of her neck was interrupted by her robes, if he looked, yes, there it was. The love bite he had left after a particularly lovely snogging session was just visible above her collar, and James couldn't make himself look away. The rest of the class was spent in a haze, both considering Sirius' anger towards him and the new steps he and Lily were taking. It was all so new, but resting on slightly more solid ground than it had been even a week earlier. They hadn't slept in the same bed since that afternoon after they found Amelia, but they had been close, and James wanted to get closer.
The bell rang, startling him out of his thoughts, and James rose, collecting his things when he heard McGonagall calling his name. He walked towards her desk, moving around the rest of his class as they pushed towards the door.
"Yes, professor?"
"Come to my desk, would you please?" She said, sitting down. "Miss Evans, you as well."
James and Lily caught eyes and waited, but McGonagall was waiting until the rest of the class left for lunch before facing them.
"It has been a full month since your incarceration in a collective dormitory," she said, and James smiled. Nobody could take what was a gift from Merlin himself and turn it on its head quite like McGonagall. "I have already heard reports from other Prefects as well as teachers about your behaviour since then, but would like to hear from you,"
"Professor?" Lily asked.
"If I wanted to explain everything I say twice, I daresay I would have done so," McGonagall said, and James rolled his eyes.
"It went well; I would say," Lily said tentatively, using the different voice she used for teachers. "We resolved our differences and made peace," And other more wonderful things, James thought with a grin.
"I am pleased to hear it," McGonagall said, "I have heard no reports of public altercations, nor seen the results of unfriendly conduct towards one another in my class. I daresay that the kidnapping of Amelia Bones had a hand in that,"
"Yes, professor,"
"You both behaved admirably, considering the circumstances. Had the results not been as positive as they were, I might have thought differently,"
"I'd expect you would have," Lily said cordially.
"Nevertheless, I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore, and you are free to return to your respective dormitories tonight,"
James' heart sank, was it to be over so soon? "Tonight?"
McGonagall exhaled pointedly, and Lily turned to answer. "It's just, it's so soon. I thought it would've been longer,"
"You are to pack up your things and return to your respective dormitories between now and this evening," McGonagall said crisply, standing. "When this is to occur is up to you. Good afternoon,"
"McGon-," James began, and McGonagall looked over at him sharply. "I mean, Professor, it's too soon. We've got a mission from Dumbledore, and we're to work on it together,"
"Oh?" she said, one hand on the corner of her desk. "And what might that be, pray, tell?"
"Oh we can't," Lily said, "Dumbledore made us swear. It's to the benefit of the school, an extracurricular,"
"And you're to work on this secret extracurricular project together?"
"Yep," James said, sneaking a look over at Lily.
"And what is preventing you from working on this project in the Gryffindor Common Room?"
"Nothing," James said, "but some of the details of this plan are well, secret. We wouldn't want someone to overhear and get the wrong impression,"
"I will speak to Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall said. "And gain his opinion on this matter,"
"He knows, Professor," Lily said a little quickly, and James grinned. "We've been making good progress,"
"Well, I daresay if Professor Dumbledore has given you this impression—until I confirm otherwise, your living arrangements are your decision. I really must get to the Great Hall,"
"Of course," Lily said graciously, quickly catching James' eye with a smile. "We'll only be a minute,"
…
Once McGonagall had left, the air shifted into something unfamiliar and somewhat unwelcome. Lily had agreed with him, on the spot, she had agreed with him to McGonagall about his mission from Dumbledore. She had said that they were making good progress, but towards what? James couldn't help but fantasize about what he wished they were progressing towards.
"Well, we should—," Lily began, pulling her book bag over her shoulder and looking at the door out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah," James said, his heart beating a rapid pace. Had she just agreed with him?
"We've got a busy afternoon," Lily said nervously, playing with a piece of her hair that had escaped its plait. "Lunch, in all,"
"Yeah, I suppose so,"
"Or, or they might start thinking things are happening that aren't," Lily said.
Or wish we were doing, James thought hopefully. Should the opportunity present itself.
They walked side by side down a familiar staircase towards the Great Hall, and James wished he could speak up about what was really on his mind. He wished he could be more honest with her, honest in a way he wasn't with his parents or the Marauders, honest about the way he felt about her. James wished he could tell her about the things he wanted for them, for their future should it come. He wished he could tell her how precious and beautiful she was in his sight, but was worried she would take it the wrong way. Would she think he was some bird, confessing his feelings to her unwarranted? As much as they balanced one another, he didn't feel that he could bear another altercation from her, her opinion meant the world to him, and he would do anything to stay in her favour.
"What you said," James said quickly, catching her hand at the entrance to the Great Hall. She stopped suddenly and looked up in bewilderment. "Earlier. About not wanting to leave. Did you mean it?"
"Well," Lily began, squeezing his hand in her own. "We have been making good progress, that much is true,"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah,"
They stood about in blissful silence for a minute before Lily cleared her throat, looking up at him in a way that made him grateful for the small bit of privacy. "I need to tell you something,"
"Oh?"
"Yes, I had a letter from my mum,"
"I didn't think letters were coming in," James said, the mood changing rapidly as if the temperature had dropped. "I haven't heard from my parents in over a month."
"It had been opened," Lily said distastefully, "but that's not the worst of it. Petunia's getting married. I should've told you earlier,'
"Congratulations," James said quietly.
"Yeah, well," Lily said, "My mum included a note too, she said that weddings are a time for sisters and that I should make an effort to be more friendly in Tuney's special time,"
"Did you answer it?" James asked hesitantly.
"Almost," Lily said, pulling a letter from the pocket of her robe. "The last letter I got from home was normal, mum talking about Petunia's boyfriend and my cousins, and then nothing. I haven't had a letter from home in three weeks, and then this."
"Can I read it?"
Lily handed it to him without a word, and James carefully opened the envelope. The letter was short, her mum's well-intentioned, but Petunia's fell flat. It felt scripted, like something a stenographer might write, not a note from a sister. Even a distant one, as was the case.
"You're going to be in the wedding party," James noted after a minute or so, handing Lily back the letter. "Will you accept?"
Lily sighed. "I don't know what I want. She's my sister, and we were close once. But I don't know if I'm strong enough to fight with her again, I just don't have the energy to apologize for being what I am when she's just ordinary."
"Tell her you won't do it then,"
"It's not that easy," Lily said. "It's different with sisters. We promised we'd be bridesmaids at each other's weddings when we were little, and I always thought I would, when it came down to it."
"I saw it earlier," James said, and Lily sighed without looking up. "You do leave your things all over the place, don't you?"
"All the better to know all my secrets, I suppose," Lily said.
"Lunch?"
"Starving,"
…
The rest of the afternoon passed with little incident, Charms and double Defence rounded out the day. Once dinner had finished, they spent the evening in contemplative silence- candles and firelight tossing shadows onto the walls. James had opened the window behind his desk, and the gentle breeze stirred her thoughts the way nothing else could manage. She pulled out her notes and set about finishing her essay on the ethics of animal to object transfiguration, but the sight of the unfinished letter on her desk bothered her.
James bobbed his knee, the tip of his quill balanced between his teeth. His cardigan was loose; the creamy grey wool was worn loosely about his frame. The breeze mussed his hair, and he absentmindedly twisted and twirled it between his fingers as he sat, deep in thought.
Lily cast a quick charm on her tea to keep it warm, and shifted, leaning on the back of her chair.
"James?"
"Mhmm?"
"Do you think Dumbledore's right?"
"About what?"
"Amelia," Lily said, turning her head to meet his eye. "It doesn't seem to add up. She must've seen something; there had some sort of reason to be out that late,"
"I suppose so," James said. "She is the most pragmatic out of all of us," James turned back to his work, but hesitated, his posture taut and worrisome. "You don't think—no, never mind."
"What's this?"
"No, it's just… you don't reckon that Dumbledore might be hiding something from us, do you?"
"Dumbledore? I hope not," Lily said, her eyebrows knitted together. "I wouldn't think he'd be hiding something from us if he knew it would be helpful."
"He had a strange reaction to seeing my dad's old cloak," James remembered, looking past her in thought. "An almost hungry look,"
"To your cloak?" Lily said, turning fully on her chair. "Hasn't Dumbledore got one of his own?"
"They're pretty rare these days," James said. "And Dumbledore said he didn't need one; he can cast a powerful enough concealment charm. What would he want one for, anyway?"
Lily shrugged and moved to lean against his desk. "Your eyes are red," she noticed, leaning closer to look. "I noticed earlier but thought it was the light. But you've all manner of dark circles. Have you not been sleeping well again?"
"It's nothing," James said, turning to look at his essay before Lily tilted his head until they faced each other.
"James,"
"Evans,"
"Have you not been sleeping?"
"I have," James said. "Well, sleeping, yes, but not for very long."
"Why?"
James muttered something incomprehensible; his eyes turned towards the ground.
"Sorry?"
"I've been having nightmares again,"
"Why didn't you say something?" Lily asked, worry pulling at her tone. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the crown of his head. "James, we talked about this. We could've gotten you a sleeping draught, or some tea, or—,"
"It's not a big deal, don't fuss," James said, embarrassed. "I don't usually sleep through the night,"
"We promised to be honest with each other," Lily said, and James swallowed. She sat on his heels and met his eyes. "Right?"
"I'm trying to," James said. "I swear I am, but it's hard. I don't want to make it harder for you because you listened to me."
"I'm sorry if you're having nightmares again," Lily said. "But it'll be easier if you talk about them, about what you're thinking and feeling. I know it's hard, but I want to be here for you, James."
"I've been dreaming of that night for over a month," James said, his eyes red. "It's the same every time, and I wake up in cold sweat and look for you, for the Marauders, but they're not there and for a minute...for a minute I think that he got you. That you're gone, and I'm so afraid. So I go to your room and watch you sleep until I'm sure that you're still here, and then I can go back to sleep,"
"Oh, James—," she said, pulling him into her arms. She rubbed his back as cried, hot tears running down his face. She felt his hands wrap around her waist, and she felt tears prickle in her eyes as he wept. How heavy a burden to carry alone, thinking that he was the last one alive?
"Come with me," Lily said once his breathing slowed, and his sobs quieted. "I'm going to sleep with you, would that help?
"Sleep in the same bed?" James said, facing her. "In my bed?"
"Do you have an objection?"
"God, no," James said, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief. His heart was racing, were they going to— were they—
"I'll go to the loo first, if it's all the same to you," Lily said, apparently unperturbed by the recent turn of events. She waved her wand, and her reading glasses zoomed into her hand. "See you soon,"
"Mhmm," James said, watching as the door to the loo clicked quietly shut behind her.
…
By the time Lily had finished in the loo, James was already tucked in and very squarely on one half of his bed. He had spent an inordinate amount of time choosing with pyjamas to wear, how to fix his hair, what to do about his bedroom. It looked so juvenile, James thought, like a child's bedroom, not the room of a man. He straightened his sheets and made his bed the Muggle way, lighting candles as he went. Once Lily had finished in the loo, he took a quick shower to clear the redness from his face and the embarrassment from his expression. He cleaned his teeth, flushing his mouth with liberal amounts of mouthwash. Looking at his hair in the mirror, he teased it this way and that, but no matter what he did, it went all over. He sighed, and with a groan, emptied a capful of Sleekeazy's into his palm and ran it through his hair.
Lily was already in his bed when he came out, hair neatly plaited and reading a book he had left on his nightstand.
"Gulliver's travels, eh?" He said, trying not to be nervous as he pulled off his dressing gown and hung it over the bedpost.
"Just a bit of light reading," Lily said, pulling off her reading glasses. She looked so lovely, her eyes bright and cheerful, face slightly pink. Her slippers were tucked under her the same side of the bed she had slept on last time, a lace-lined dressing-gown of her own slung around the bedpost opposite. It was so domestic but so wonderful at the same time. They had only slept in the same bed once, and they had already chosen sides of the bed.
"It's a book my dad lent me," James said, closing it and putting it on the nightside table. "A Muggle book," he added.
"Oh?" She said.
"Yeah," he said, "it was my Granddads, Gulliver's Travels. I love adventure stories,"
"I didn't know you read Muggle books,"
"I do, I like them quite a bit,"
"Oh,"
They sat in silence for a minute. James felt every inch of the space between them, subconscious about the way he spoke, about what he hadn't said. He wished he dared to reach for her, pull her close. But would she turn him away? Was it too soon? He wanted more than anything that she felt the same about him as he did about her, but could he—should he?
Lily cleared her throat, putting her book on the side table. Her face held an expression he didn't recognize, one he hadn't seen on her before. She looked almost apprehensive, and startled, James turned to look, his heart beating so fast she must be able to hear it. "I'm nervous," he said with a half-laugh, running a hand through his hair.
"Oh thank God," Lily said, letting out a long breath, sinking against the pillows. "I thought I was the only one,"
"I just don't know what you expect," James said quietly. "I don't want to let you down,"
"We didn't talk about it, did we? It just sort of—happened,"
"I'm not very good—," James began, looking down in a feeling close to shame. "About talking— to anyone—about my feelings. I feel like such a prat, I've never talked to a bird about what I felt,"
'Why not?"
"I'm ashamed," James said, "aren't blokes supposed to be the shoulder to cry on? It's sissy the other way 'round,"
"I don't think it's sissy to talk about your feelings," Lily said quietly. "But I'm not very good at it either. Petunia and I used to tell each other everything, but she's changed, and we don't talk like that anymore. We talk in our dormitory, personal stuff, but it's all boys and who fancies who and easy stuff. I love them, I do. But they have their own lives; I don't want to bother them,"
They sat in silence for a minute, digesting what had been said. James felt like he was bare, easy pickings. He didn't like talking about his private life; it didn't come naturally to him. His parents spoke to each other, but his father had never told James what he was feeling. What life was like to be him. He wasn't sure he'd be any good at it.
"I feel like I've used you," Lily began quietly, and James swallowed uncomfortably. "Used you to my advantage without taking your feelings on the matter into consideration. I know this started on unsteady ground, and I'm sorry about that."
"You didn't —,"
"No, I did. And you know it too, but you cared too much to let it stop, and I wanted it. I've fancied you for so long, James. I didn't want to be the reason it didn't work; I couldn't bear it if it were my fault. And I meant it, truly I did. It wasn't a ruse, although you might've thought it was one. My friends have heard years of my side of the story and were wary of accepting you as you are, not the way I pretended you were. And here we are! In bed together, after all that's happened."
"I didn't mean to pressure you," James said, looking down at his lap. "I thought you wanted it. I didn't mean to tell you I was having nightmares; it sort of slipped out. I wish it hadn't,"
"Why?"
"Because you're different from the other birds I've dated," James said. "You're Lily Evans, I've fancied you for years, and like you said, here we are in bed, and we might as well be on different planets."
"Then let's do it," Lily said suddenly, and James' eyebrows shot up his forehead. "No, no—not that. Talking, let's try talking for once."
"Okay," James said, trying to recover his heart rate.
"Okay," Lily said, pulling the sheets up to sit cross-legged across from him. "Here it goes, I guess. I'm jealous that my sister found love because I don't think that she deserves it. I know it makes me awful, but now she's getting married, and I have to pretend to be happy for her, but the sister I loved is gone and is never coming back. I hate that she's never coming back,"
"God, Lily, I'm so sorry,"
"No, don't be sorry," Lily said, wiping a tear with her hand. "It's me; it's my fault. I'm not good at trusting people. Ever since my dad died, alive one day, gone the next. But before that too, I didn't have anyone reliable to tell my secrets to until Hogwarts, Petunia would tell them to anybody,"
"Oh Lils," he said, reaching for her blindly.
"No, don't pity me," Lily said, tucking her arms into his chest. "I need you to understand why I am the way that I am,"
James turned about on the bed to face her. "I'm here, I'll keep your secrets. Tell me whatever you'd like." And she did.
…
They talked for hours, long after the candles in his bedroom had sputtered into nothing and panels of moonlight fell across the floorboards. Lily spoke about her family, how much losing her dad affected her. He talked about the expectations of his parents, how they expected him to do something great with his life, something extraordinary. James told her that he was afraid of his parents dying, especially now that they weren't answering the post. She told him about how much he had impressed her when Moody kidnapped Amelia, how she admired his bravery and sure-headed leadership.
They fell into a comfortable silence, things perhaps more settled than they were before, their hands clasped tightly together under the coverlet. It wasn't as uncomfortable silence as it had been an hour previously, but they lay in bed together, not touching, each conscious of the gap between the two of them. It seemed insurmountable; their company felt almost expectant, nearly planned. Lily never did say what she was expecting, James thought. Did she want to, did she expect to— with him? Right now? Should he say something? Or would that ruin it? In his experience in this particular department, the less talking there was between two people, the more natural things were. But Lily wasn't like the other bird he had been with, she should have romance and flowers and candles, in consideration of course that this is what she wanted. The other times they had come close, but here they were in the same bed, intentionally and purposefully. She wouldn't have agreed if this wasn't what she wanted, right? No, she wasn't someone to have her arm twisted, but she would say, wouldn't she? If this was something she didn't want? They lay side by side, but they didn't touch, didn't reach for the other. He stared at the ceiling and considered his options. He could say something, but that might have the opposite reaction than what he wanted. If he said something, he could pop the bubble they had established when they were talking. He hated how uncomfortable with this he was, Hadn't he slept with other people? And in more than one context, of course, one of which was the night the four of them crammed into the only bed in the Shrieking Shack after the full moon in fourth year. How was this any different? But it was, it was Evans, and she had chosen to be here, in bed with him. His mind churned with the alternative, which was, of course, to say nothing. Let things progress as they might, let the petals fall where they may. But he couldn't do that to her, she deserved all that and more, and they were just beginning to be honest with one another.
He turned over slowly, watching her face to gauge a reaction. She didn't move, but when his hand searched for hers in the dark, she held it tightly between them.
"What you said earlier," Lily said quietly. "Oh, a long time ago. It isn't true."
"Yeah?"
"Love isn't bound for catastrophe," she said, tracing a hand over his face with a smile on her lips. "Love is never wasted, even if you think that it was at the time,"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah,"
James smiled in the darkness, and when Lily shifted into his arms, he held her with love in his heart as they drifted off to sleep.
…
The morning after the night before came early; the sun shone brighter than it did in her room, and the breeze rattled the window frame. Her eyelids flickered open, and she burrowed herself further into James' arms. The bed was warm, and James was still asleep, his hair curling around his ears and forehead, the beginning of whiskers settling in on his jaw. His eyes were still closed, and the deep rumbling of his breath suggested he was still asleep. It was still early, the dawn was close at hand, but classes wouldn't begin for hours. They had time, so much time it was as if she could swim in it, let it spill through her fingers like sunlight. The hours and days of their lives stretched endlessly towards eventuality. Still, it was a glimmer on the horizon—a flash of silver, something far off and unrecognizable, something not worth thinking about or remembering.
James' arm rose in his sleep, pulling the sheets and her closer into his side. His legs tangled with her own, and she was entirely, incandescently happy. Happy enough to burrow into his broad chest and fall fast asleep.
...
James awoke an hour later to the sound of his alarm. He was startled, it was so late. He hadn't slept through the night in weeks, and a full night's sleep suited him. Lily was there, he thought happily. She had slept in his bed and had stayed all night.
Their conversation the night before seemed so far off, imaginary. As if he was reading about it instead of experiencing it for himself. The last time they had slept together—well, slept in the same bed at the very least, their morning lacked the privacy he had wanted for her. Their friends surrounded them, and he didn't get the chance to see her the way he had wanted to. She would have messy hair, all falling out of her braids, and that old nightgown of hers would slide up deliciously when she raised her arms to yawn, exposing inches of skin unplotted and waiting to be loved upon. She would forget that in the light, the white cotton would become nearly transparent, and the light from the windows would award him an image he wouldn't soon forget. She would grin, her eyes sleepy and half-closed and lean forward to kiss him, reach for him, run her fingers through his hair. Left to his own devices, he slept more often than not in just his pants, and when he sat up, she would see for herself what he had hoped she had thought of, dreamt of, wished for. They would be alone, so blessedly alone. No teachers to impose a curfew, no dormitory mates to walk in, nobody in the world but them. The last people in the world, so madly in love, the sun slowed in its rising, the world in its spinning, the stars in their shining. He would stand up, eyes caught on her own and lift her, spinning her around their sunlit bedroom while the light of his love shone in her eyes. He'd give anything to love her like that. God, he'd give his life for a love like that.
She was so small, and all he could see was the crown of her head, tucked into the curve of his neck. Her hair was so bright, the little freckles of her forehead glimmered in the light. She was lying nearly on top of him, both of her legs between his own, almost entirely the whole length of her tucked into the empty places of his own body. Her toes wiggled, and her eyebrows creased in some sudden emotion. She pulled her arms out from between them and would them about his shoulders, the movement exposing her face to him. She was smiling in her sleep, and the little feathers of her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. He didn't think he loved anyone more than he loved her at that moment.
Her eyes flickered open, and he kissed her neck as she smiled in near consciousness.
"Good morning, James,"
"Good morning, lovely Lily,"
"No nightmares?"
"None," James said with a smile, kissing her forehead. "Thank you,"
Lily made a happy little noise in the base of her throat and tucked herself back into his arms, her head sliding against the crook of his neck.
"What you said earlier," James said, looking down to meet her eyes. "About expectations—," James said, waiting until her eyes opened fully to continue. "I had hoped-,"
"Yes?" she breathed, her lips beneath the curl of his ear, the nape of his neck.
"I had hoped that it would be something like this,"
...
This story has been a relief to me, a comfortable universe to sink into and let the world drift for a minute. James comes naturally to me, his aspirations and personality have always been second nature while writing. But it took me a minute to realize that while James was raised by caring, compassionate people, toxic masculinity would most likely have, inadvertently, sunk into James' psyche. And I hate it. But it's easy to put characters up on a pedestal, especially ones like James and Lily who were long dead in most of the canon. While James is compassionate, brave and trustworthy, he was also arrogant and had a strain of toxic masculinity and self-importance running in his bones. It makes him more human to remember that these are the late 70's, coming from parents who did the best that they could with the lessons of parenthood that came from a time gone by. They're also seventeen, and love is hard. James still believes that he's invincible, and will for the rest of his life.
This chapter marks act two of this piece, with one more act to come. The story will come to a close a the end of the year, 1977. How many more chapters that will be, I couldn't tell you, but I'm so glad you came along for the ride :)
Much love,
Violet Sky