Hello! Long time, no updates. But the holiday season has me nostalgic and I wanted to pop in and say hi :)

It was one year ago TODAY that I finished the first draft of part 2 of Lily Evans and the Marauder's Secrets and sent it off to beta readers, and what a year it has been for LEMS! In that year...

1. A half dozen fellow writers beta read for me

2. I did multiple rounds of edits and revisions

3. The final version of LEMS was published acrossed three platforms

4. And has had hundereds of thousands of hits across those platforms!

5. So many people have left delightful comments and messaged me as we've all got to experience the Wizarding World together again

6. I did a small print run for friends and family and own physical copies of LEMS

7. And now you can listen to LEMS on audio! Teatimekingpin on Ao3 is currently recording audio for the entire book and you can listen to most of part 1 already and IT'S SO GOOD!

Is it weird to say that writing this fic has been so enriching for my life? But it's true!

I've still been writing, too! A first draft of my first original novel is almost done! It's been a hugely different battle than writing fic was, but rewarding in a different way as well, and I'm excited to see where that project takes me in the future.

And... I still revist James and Lily every now and then. I love them so much!

So I thought, in honor of the holiday season this month, I could gift you all a silly little chapter I did just for fun a while ago, just a lovestruck James POV on one of my favorite chapters from part 1. Enjoy, and happy holidays! Thanks as always for reading and supporting!

Author's Note: This chapter is James's POV for the second half of Chapter 21: Uninvited, when Lily recieves a letter from her mum about Petunia's upcoming wedding.

I leave breakfast early for Potions.

When I stand, Sirius raises an eyebrow at me. "Since when are we so concerned about being early for class?"

"I had an idea about the jinx at the bottom of the stairs of the tower," I say, and they all look up. I don't need to clarify which tower. The locked tower we strongly suspect houses the Book of Admittance has been our collective obsession now that we were so close to getting the Map to work. "Going to test a theory before anyone else is in the corridors."

"I'll come," Sirius says immediately, starting to get to his feet.

I shake my head. "No," I say. "I don't want to draw any more attention to it than we have to. Besides, it'll only take a moment."

Sirius hesitates, still half risen out of his seat.

"I promise," I say, "if anything exciting happens, I'll come and get you right away."

"Hey!" Peter says indignantly.

"All of you," I clarify. I look at Remus, eyebrows raised. He nods.

"Finish your breakfast, Pads," he says, tugging Sirius back onto the bench.

"Fine," Sirius grumbles.

I shoot Remus a grateful look. "I'll see you all in Transfiguration," I say, and then I head out of the Great Hall.

The locked tower has an interesting entry in the fact that it moves around. We're never entirely sure where it's going to be day to day, but we've been tracking its patterns since last year and have started to get fairly decent at predicting where it'll next pop up. I'm almost certain today I'll find it downstairs. However, before I can take the turn that'll lead me down to where I think the door will be, someone takes it first and smacks right into me.

"Oof." The force knocks the sound out out of me.

"Sorry," she mutters, her head ducked low, and starts to go around.

"Wait," I say. There's no mistaking that distinctive dark red hair. "Lily?"

"Um, yes, hello. Can't talk, in quite the hurry," she says, but her voice catches.

I grab her arm before she can take off. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't fight me, just looks up, and I know before she answers that no, she is not okay. Her face is blotchy red, and tear-tracks stain her cheeks. "No," she says, and her voice breaks as more tears trace their way down her face.

My chest constricts with concern. "What is it? It's not – Merlin, you didn't run into the Slytherins on your own again, did you?"

She shakes her head and I relax just a little. At least there's no physical danger.

"Trouble with mates?" I ask. "Alice?" I swallow. "Snape?"

"No," she says. She pulls something out of her pocket and shoves it at me. "Here. This."

I take it from her. It's a piece of parchment folded up in thirds. A letter. "Just... read it," she mumbles, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I drop my gaze to the letter before I brush them away myself.

The opening of the letter is standard stuff – nice to get letters, wish you would write more, et cetera. I gather right away that it's from her mum from the obvious endearment that seeps through the words.

But my heart stops, then hammers full speed as I read the next bit.

"...you've been mentioning a certain James Potter in every single one of your letters or amuse you with a tale about my horrid first date with your father (not that I'm insinuating you were on a date in Hogsmeade, dear. I would never presume such a thing..."

Wait.

She's been writing her mum about me?

And not just once but... I reread the section again.

Every letter.

Lily's been writing her mum about me every letter.

I almost look up at her right then, see if I can tease a confession out of her. But then she sniffles again and I remember something about this letter made her cry. And I doubt she would have shoved it at me if this was the important bit. In fact, if she was fine with me reading this, it must mean this bit's totally irrelevant, not even worth being bothered that I would see it. Pull yourself together, Potter. Not about you.

I move on.

Her mum goes on to mention Petunia's wedding. I vaguely remember Lily having a sour-faced sister who would come to Platform 9 in our earlier school years, and the way her mum talks about Petunia, this must be her.

The end of the letter makes me pause again.

"...if you must spend time with Alice this holiday, can't I persuade you to do so at the beginning of break instead of after Christmas so that you won't miss the wedding? I don't think I could bear it if you weren't there, and I do think Petunia would be rather hurt."

I do look up at Lily then. "You're missing your sister's wedding? Why? And I didn't know you were going to Alice's for Christmas." I frown. That doesn't sound like Lily at all, ditching out on her family, who, based on all her letters home and the tone her mother addresses her with, Lily adores. And during one of our rare breaks out of school? It makes no sense.

"I'm not," she wails.

My frown deepens and I look back down to scan the letter again. Maybe I misunderstood? "But this says..."

"She made it up!" Lily says. Angry tears glint in the corners of her eyes, which shine vivid green. "Petunia! She'd rather have the drama of me 'refusing' to be at her wedding than have me there!"

I read the words over again.

"...Petunia told me that you insist on spending part of your holiday break in Southampton and missing her wedding..."

"Your sister," I say slowly, "uninvited you from her wedding? Through your mum?"

"Kind of pathetic, right?" She attempts a smile, but it's sad and doesn't touch her eyes. She must know she's not succeeding in putting on a brave face because, with a heavy sigh, she slides down the wall to sit in a despondent heap on the floor and stare at her hands in her lap.

I glance down the corridor. It's still empty. I swallow and slide down the wall to sit next to her, as close as I dare. There's barely a whisper of space between our shoulders. She doesn't look up.

"Not really," I say quietly.

She doesn't answer, and I'm entirely at loss of what to do as she works to get her composure back, her breathing hiccupping occasionally. I don't want to accidentally spark more tears, but I also don't want to spook her away. She's so much more vulnerable right now than she's ever let herself be around me, and I'm afraid if I pry, or move, or even speak, she'll stand up and dismiss me with a, "You're right, Potter. Sorry I bothered you," and sweep away to Potions before I could even get up off the floor.

She wipes her eyes a couple more times and I sit in what I hope is comforting silence. When her sniffling slows, I risk a question.

"Why... why would she do this?" I hold my breath, hoping she'll answer. And to my immense relief (and shock), she does.

"Because she hates me," she says.

"Hates you?"

"Hates me," she says, softer now. She rubs the hem of her skirt and doesn't look at me. "She can't stand the magic. She hates that I'm magic and she's not and… and she just hates me for it all."

"Lily..." I say. I can't fathom it, being disliked for having magic. Truthfully, I can't even fathom a life where that would even be a possibility. Magic wasn't something you had or didn't have. It was just... life. I've never known it any other way. And then I consider how Lily, and others like her, was disliked in the Wizarding World for coming from a world without magic. How very confusing and suffocating it must be for her to be hated on both sides for something totally out of her control, and how she handles it with a head held high and a sharp wit, and a surge of emotion fills me. Indignation, sorrow, concern, affection, admiration...

Love?

Maybe.

I decide to take a chance on that single line from her mum's letter ("...you've been mentioning a certain James Potter in every single one of your letters...") and slip an arm around her shoulders. She freezes for a split second, and I worry I've made a terrible mistake, but then she leans into me. Her head drops to my shoulder.

And I thought my heart had been hammering when I'd read her mum's letter.

"I'm so sorry," I tell her quietly, because they're the only appropriate words to say in this moment. Not 'you're sister sounds like a sorry cow', or 'you don't deserve any of this'. Not 'I don't know how anyone could hate you, because I think I might love you.'

I shove the thought away. I'm still not sure yet, and if, in any case, it is true, I'm not ready to confront that in the context of what Lily might still think about me. I don't think I could stand to love her if she still kind of hates me. I think it just might kill me.

"It's fine," Lily sighs, and it takes me a second to catch back up. When I do, I snort.

"It so is not!"

"You're right, it's not," she concedes. "But I've been dealing with it for the last six years. I should be used to this by now."

I rub her shoulder, and she settles even more against me. Her hair tickles against my arm. "It's okay that you're not."

"Thank you," she whispers.

I think that might be it for our conversation, think she's confessed all she needs to. We're still sitting on the floor, my arm still wrapped around her. Merlin knows I'm not going to be the one to get up first. I can't believe she hasn't shoved me off yet.

"But I've never had to deal with something quite as big as her banning me from a wedding!" she says suddenly. "I just almost can't believe she'd do something like this!"

"Do you want to go?" I ask. "I mean, if she doesn't want you there so badly, maybe you are better off skipping..."

"No." Lily shakes her. "I actually... do really want to go." She laughs a little, putting a hand to her forehead, almost like she's disappointed in herself. "That's the saddest part, isn't it? Even though I know Tuney really doesn't want me there and is doing her best to make sure I don't end up there, I still really, really want to be there." She sighs, and there's years of heartbreak in it. "We were close once, it you can believe it. Very, very close."

"So go anyways!" I exclaim. My arm tightens around her. "You don't have to let her shut you out of your family. If you really want to go, just go."

Lily looks at me with startled eyes. "Just go? But... but Tuney doesn't want me there."

I've never met Petunia, but I kind of hate her. What kind of person can dislike her own sister so much she could ignore all the clear signs Lily still adored her, and refuse to adore Lily back? Push Lily away?

What kind of person couldn't adore Lily?

"Well, screw her," I say.

"Potter!"

"No, really!" I say. "Screw her. If you want to be there, be there. You're her sister, for Merlin's sake. If anyone has a right to be there, it's you."

"Oh, I don't know," she says. She twists her fingers anxiously in her lap. "When Petunia sets her mind to something... and it is her wedding..."

"I'll come with you."

"Come with me?"

I hadn't planned on offering, didn't plan on those words tumbling out, but there they are, and it seems like the most natural offer in the world. Lily needs support? Of course I'm there.

"Yeah," I say. "You'll get a plus one, I'm sure of it."

She just stares at me. Her mouth hangs open slightly and her eyes dart over my face like she doesn't know how to respond.

I want to smack a hand to my forehead. A plus one? Of course she doesn't know how to respond. James Potter just offered to be Lily Evan's date to a wedding, and it's one of the most idiotic things I've ever done. Which, considering my reputation here, is saying something. Of course she doesn't want to take me as a date. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"If... if you want me to, I mean," I stutter out the clarification. "For moral support! Obviously. Not like..." Not like we're a couple. Not like you fancy me or anything. Not like I might be in love with you. "Just, like, if you need someone to help you go through with it..."

Smooth, Potter. Real smooth. I twist a hand into my hair self-consciously.

She takes an excruciatingly long time to answer, and I don't dare try to watch her face to gauge what she's thinking. I don't want her to see how badly I want her to say yes, and I don't want to watch if she decides to say no. My fingers tug at my hair harder.

When she finally does speak, her tone is cautious. "Thanks..." she says. "I'll... keep that in mind."

She'll keep it in mind.

Me coming to the wedding.

With her.

She didn't say no.

That feeling swells again, so strong and swift I swear I can hear it. I almost miss the rest of what she says.

"If I do end up needing some support. After all, we're still working under the assumption I can get Petunia to agree to let me go, let alone with a whole extra person in tow."

"Well, at least we know your mum will be on your side," I say. I grin and drop my hand from my head. Lily's fine with me coming to the wedding. Lily talks to her mum about me. All is well in the world. "She'd clearly love it if I showed up. I, for one, can't wait to hear that disastrous date story."

Lily frowns, her eyebrows scrunching. I know the exact moment she understands the reference because her face reddens in horror and she sits bolt-upright.

"Been talking much about me, have you?" I ask.

"Give me that," Lily mutters, dropping her eyes from mine. Her face still blazes crimson. She gets to her feet and reaches for the letter. "Mum's a chronic over-exaggerator, you'll see so when you meet her."

But I pull the letter away and get to my feet as well, careful to keep it well out of her reach. "When I meet her?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, still grinning. I can't help it. "Already planning on introducing me to your parents, Evans? I thought just a minute ago those circumstances were a strong maybe."

"Just - give that – to me!" With every word, Lily jumps and swipes at my hand held high in the air, the letter clutched securely in my grip. Her fingers wrap around my wrist and my breath catches. She drags my arm down.

"Promise me I'll meet your mum first," I say. I hold tight to the letter. It might be the only thing keeping her here, this close to me. I wonder if she can feel my pulse racing under her fingertips.

"What?"

"Promise me," I say, and she looks up. She's right there, so close that the breath from my request stirs her hair.

"Promise," I say, one more time, barely more than a whisper.

The second before she responds stretches just long enough I worry I'm going to lose all rational thought and kiss her right there. "Fine," she says softly. "I promise."

I release my grip on the letter and step back quickly. The cool air away from her washes some sense back into me and I steal a glance at her as she stows the letter into her school bag. Her hair swings loose over her shoulder and the morning light pouring in from the window traces the curve of her cheek in pale gold.

Oh, Merlin.

I have a problem.

Because it's not really a question, is it? As much as I want to pretend it is.

I'm in love with her.

And I think it's going to kill me.