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Seventh year

Just smile, thought Lily. Just bear it and smile your prettiest smile.

Lily knew she wasn't pretty, with her too-big nose and her too-red hair. Her eyes, though, she liked. They looked like her mother's.

"Just smile," said the photographer, echoing her thoughts. "Ah, beautiful!"

Lily stood up, thanking the photographer for his time, when Dumbledore interrupted.

"May we have one of the Head Boy and Girl together?" he asked cheerily.

"But of course!" said the photographer, drawing up an identical chair to the one Lily had been sitting on and placing it much too close to the other. Lily sat back down grudgingly, James Potter beside her. She turned her body away from him.

"Lily," said Dumbledore with a chuckle. "It might be better for the pictures if it seemed our Head Boy and Girl did like each other."

"Yes," said the photographer firmly. "Turn forwards, and lean slightly in towards each other! Just like that. Good! Stay there. Now smile!"

James was much too close, the right side of his body touching hers.

"A smile would be nice," commented Dumbledore, matter-of-factly.

"I can't," said Lily stiffly.

"You must!" said the photographer desperately. He looked for help from Dumbledore.

"Perhaps a joke?" suggested Dumbledore. He paused, searching for a good joke. "Well, why is it hard for a ghost to lie?"

"I don't know," sighed Lily.

"Because you can see right through him!" finished Dumbledore. "Ah, that's a personal favourite of mine, perhaps since it was told to me by a ghost."

Lily remained staring unhappily at the camera.

"Knock, knock," said James.

Lily silently groaned, and turned her head to face him. "Who's there?"

"You know," he said, grinning.

"You know who?" she said, then, although she was determined not to, her mouth twitched into a smile.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment.

James felt a swell of pride at managing to make Lily smile. After the camera had taken the picture, however, she had composed her expression. She tucked an escaped red curl behind her ear and stared back at the lens of the camera, trying to force herself, it seemed, to smile. This, however, resulted only in a painful sort of grimace.

Even so, she was stunning. She had grown even more beautiful than she had been in their fifth year, when her beauty had truly captivated him. Looking at her now, he wondered if they had ever been so close to one another before without her shouting at him for doing something to Severus Snape.

"Mr. Potter, could you stand behind Lily – yes, like that – and put your hands on her shoulders?" instructed the photographer. "Much less formal. Relax!"

James stood up slowly and stepped behind Lily's chair, pushing away his own so that it would not be seen in the photograph. His hands hovered for a moment, hesitant, before moving cautiously down. He had never touched the skin at the base of her neck and at the slash of her collarbone. It was soft, smooth and warm. As he tried to relax, he caught the fragrance of her flowery perfume. It was almost enough to cause his rocketing heartbeat to stagger to a stop altogether. As it was, he felt an extremely powerful urge to kiss her. His mind was whirling, and every thought was muffled, blurred, and faint in contrast to the feeling of Lily's skin, the smell of her, everything that was Lily, Lily, Lily.

He exhaled a deep breath to calm himself.

Lily fidgeted, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Smile!" insisted the photographer again.

The camera flashed, momentarily blinding them both.