Once upon a time, on the threshold of summer and the end of a long friendship, Lily Evans convinced herself that she needed no more complications of any kind, because her life was already so intricately designed as it was, thanks very much.
She reckoned turning out to be a witch, a supposed impossibility in itself, and alienating her sister for it were enough. She didn't particularly despise the entirety of who she had to be, not really, but it hadn't been necessary for her to be the best friend of a potentially strong candidate for the high ranks of the darkest wizard of the present day, had it? Was being the object of Hogwarts's most egoistical, most infuriating, biggest walking talking mass of hair-ruffling corporeal trouble James bloody Potter's attention absolutely essential to the natural balance of the universe?
No. No, it wasn't.
In more than one occasion, she might have even secretly wanted a normal life. A normal once upon a time and a normal happily ever after—at least insofar as the wizarding latitudes were capable of normality. She imagined her life after Hogwarts devoid of troublesome affairs anymore, believing she'd already had her fill of off beaten paths in the past. She hoped her involvement in things would burn out and push her kindly back to the bleachers of peace and happiness and safety—and basically all the other things Sirius Black seemed to identify boredom with.
In all the times it got too much, she assured herself of that. She told herself that these chapters would eventually end, and she would run away from both worlds and maybe build a little place of her own. She would escape all unsettled confines and be happy and unreserved and just Lily Evans and maybe even in love.
She had quite a bit of time imagining an ideal future indeed.
She did not, however, envision this.
While James Potter had proven himself a relentless force in her life too many times in the past, she never really deemed their lives written to ever meet at any same point. A precise when and where that would find them fussing about in her car, which was parked on top of a secluded cliff overlooking a busy metropolis, the stars above and below and in his eyes. Her last page never contained hammering hearts louder than the faint thrum of fireworks from afar. And, perhaps most notably, there were no lips so close she couldn't see them anymore, no fingers running a torturously slow trail up her jean-clad thigh.
Nope. Definitely not.
She had been laughing just moments ago. She remembered laughter after so long a time the feeling was close to foreign, then his hand on her cheek, then the echoes of her mirth dying last in her eyes, and then the car lights turning off. The darkness plunged his hazel and her green and all their differences into a neat canvas of blacks and whites.
They were at that same point, Lily thought. (Finally.)
And then he kissed her.
Once upon stretches and stretches of carefree days Lily knew she wouldn't have given James a proper shot, despite his incessant promises of a happy ending and the way he smiled every time he saw her. And now somehow she was letting him hold her without question, letting him forge her being with his warmth, while the edges of the wizarding realm ripped deafeningly amidst looming declarations of war.
She clutched at his shirt as his tongue did wonders and claimed possession over her. She swore she could taste in his lips the same stars she unearthed in his gaze. It was strange how she couldn't have seen any clearer than when she let her eyes flutter close. Her skin tingled pleasantly under his touch, and she moved in perfect rhythm with him—running her fingers up and down his chest, kissing him and touching him with as much fervor as she could muster, getting as close and as far as anyone could, and anyone ever would, get with him.
She wanted nothing more at the moment but to break him and crack him open and make all of him hers.
"Evans..." His lips found purchase on her neck, sucking and nipping and licking at her pulse point.
"Yeah?" It wasn't so much a spoken word as a sigh, for breathing was becoming a struggle every second.
"Hmm... I'm..." He took his time kissing along the length of her jaw, his mouth dragging slowly up, up, up, until his lips ghosted over her ear and his breath chased shivers down her spine. "I'm joining the Order..."
It took a moment for it to sink in. When it did, his lips were on hers once more.
She was going to protest. Her 'no', purely instinctive and protective, was conceived almost immediately and would have successfully fought its way out of her lips had she been given the chance. He knew this, of course he did, so he rid her of that chance. He kissed her with the intensity of a million yesterdays and the shattering disquiet of tomorrow, and so many things were said in the silence that her remonstrances dissipated. Her back hit the passenger door, her head spun, her lungs screamed.
The world was falling apart, she knew that, but James Potter was and always would be an entirely different world in his own right. Here, now, there was just him and his lips and his tongue and his hands and the feel of him pressed against her, and they were anything but crumbling down. It was surreal. Unnervingly, incredibly surreal.
And then she understood.
Even if she wanted to, she simply wouldn't be able to stop him from being out there and fighting.
They could forget the whole thing and build a life of their own, of course. Run away from the war, just she and he, an infinity more of undisturbed right here's and right now's like this. He made her feel more alive than anyone, than she ever thought herself capable of, and the thought of losing that—the thought of losing him—was terrifying.
But Lily knew in her heart that she yearned to fight, too. For herself and for James, for what's right and for a place in a world she rightfully belonged to. Whether they chose to die as heroes or to live as mundane nobodies didn't really matter, because this battle wasn't fought by or fought for either of them alone. This war discounted all once upon a time's and presented a condition over everyone's happy endings. She couldn't not let him be part of it, because he already was, inevitably, a part of it.
She was, too.
They had to fight. Hell, she wanted to fight.
And by the gods, she would.
She was prepared to step down further along the spiral of tragic fates and bleak prophecies, just as long as she had him with her. She'd stand alongside this boy—this fantastic, ridiculous, dauntless man—and she would hold his hand in the battlefield for as long as it took. They'd see through the end together. They would be fine. Lily knew they would.
Her own hands covered the ones cradling her face and returned the kiss with parallel enthusiasm. She understood. Her refusal died down—and he had known it would, hadn't he?
"You're sure?" she asked him breathlessly.
"Yes," he murmured back. He pressed a soft kiss on her temple, and she sighed before answering.
"Me, too," said Lily. "I'm signing up."
James quickly licked his lips and held her gaze for a moment, at length slowly nodding.
He smiled, and Lily's heart broke at the fear and melancholy dimming the glint in his eye.
"I know you are," he said.
And because he couldn't quite put into words everything else he wanted so badly to tell her, he leaned in and showed her instead.
"Potter?" she was murmuring later, her head on his chest and his finger drawing lazy circles on her arm.
Once upon a time, Lily Evans had believed she deserved a quiet life, a decent ending to her muddled beginnings.
"Hm?"
Once upon a time, she had decided that James Potter was too complicated a being for her already intricately designed life.
"Are you alright?"
She wouldn't have given him a proper shot, despite that irresistible smile and his contagious laugh.
"'Course. You're with me."
But once upon a time had long curled in upon itself.
"James..."
Because really, it didn't get any simpler than this.
"Yeah?"
He loved her, just as he always had.
"I love you."
And she was damn right going to defend this to her last breath.
"I know."
For she was just as unfathomably in love with him.
AN: Awkward ending, I suppose, but reviews make me happy. They also please the writing juju god, which is good for my first ever WIP multi-chapter of sorts...