Jily side blog

Staring out at the glow of the full moon, she understood why poets had often dedicated odes comparing women to the moon. While beautiful, it wasn’t her beauty that made her worthy of the anthropomorphizing of men, allowing them to yearn obsessively after women and be called artists rather than cads. The moon’s mystery was what truly drew them all to her, the secret they all wanted to uncover and own. Yet, the secret they depicted was whimsical in nature, the sort of unusual Petunia told Lily would never capture a well-breed man’s attention.

But the moon’s covertness did not point toward a femme playfulness. Rather, her skeletons would reveal her to be the final suspect of an Agatha Christie novel. And Lily couldn’t help but wonder how something so beautiful could bear causing so much pain. If it could just reverse its phase in the sky, Remus’s bones wouldn’t be forced to bend against his natural state as screams escaped the soft-spoken boy’s mouth; the pain of nonrecognition wouldn’t grace the face of his three closest friends who transformed to show the best of their souls. Of course, this information she learned from James in the aftermath of the group’s—but really Remus’s, James emphasized—confession to her following New Year’s. Her heart ached for Remus as much now—watching the source of his pain—as it had the moment she swore secrecy about his “furry little problem” as James called it.

Moving toward another window, she angled herself to face the Whomping Willow. Unlike the lies of the still night, this tree exuded its perversion even now with the still branches undisturbed. She thought back to the moment James had walked her through the tree’s passageway and into the Shrieking Shack where the rest of the boys had waited for them. On the walk back to the castle, the crescent moon captured her eyes. If it were possible, she would have taken the sliver out of the sky, even if it meant being condemned to days full of darkness. She would do anything for a friend—had done what seemed liked everything at some point. Since that night, she’d imagined the brutality of his change in great detail that, at times, passed into her nightmares. She confided this to James one evening as they patrolled.

“He’s got us, Lil,” he uttered with his chin on top of her head. “We’ll keep him safe.”

“But who’ll take care of you?” she hadn’t dared utter lest he think she couldn’t handle the truth. Although, it wasn’t the truth she couldn’t handle but the image of his brutalized body laying somewhere in Hogsmeade where she couldn’t get to him. She knew Remus wouldn’t purposefully hurt him, but she had seen the hesitancy on their faces as she asked how they managed the process every month unscathed. The way James’s eyes met Sirius’s, then Peter’s matched the words that escaped Remus.

“They don’t.” The words were full of self-hatred she knew, and James’s eyebrows furrowed as he spoke words of comfort to Remus. This small act alone made her love for him grow at the unconditional love for his friends. “Sometimes the werewolf wins,” Remus finished in a soft voice, though the self-deprecation was still present as Sirius and Peter chimed in to reassure him.

It wasn’t just the risk they ran with Remus, but what if the townspeople saw them and became frightened, sending a spell their way before they could change back.

She sighed as she tried to get her thoughts under control, moving from the window to her boyfriend’s bed. It would be hours before the boys returned. She smiled as she fingered the material of his sheets, covered in snitches James had charmed himself. With her head resting on one of her arms, she titled her head to stare at the copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. James leant her the copy when she visited the Potters on Boxing Day. With her on his lap in his father’s study, he read her some of the tales as they waited for Sirius to arrive.

With the memory of James’s animated voice as he distinguished between characters, she began reading out loud to herself, “There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at midnight.”

***

An infectious laugh made its way into her dream, the image of dream James already fading as her eyes begin fluttering open, yet the laughter was still too far away for her liking.

“Will you shut it,” she heard James say as the laughter in his voice, the one in her dreams, swelled. Sirius’s response was drowned out at the commotion she was sure he caused, followed by more laughter that warmed her heart. Her lips tilted up as she pushed the book aside and began sitting up in time for the door to crack open, Sirius coming through first with a grin on his face despite the gashes covering his face and arms.

“Evans?” he questions as the grin fell from his lips, a worried glint in his grey eyes.

James was next, in tandem with her name falling off his best friend’s lips, but her eyes moved to the last member who trudged in, shutting the door behind him.

In spite of the softness as he uttered “Lily,” she couldn’t look at him. Not yet. Not knowing she would not be able to focus on anyone else if she looked at James first. So instead, her eyes glanced at Sirius first, making an inventory with the severity of his injuries.

“What are you doing here, Red?” Sirius asked as he pulled open his drawer, no shame as he began changing from his now-dirty, grey tee to the Queen one Lily gifted him for Christmas. He winced as his arms went into the designated openings. Her eyes returned to Peter who looked unharmed aside from the circles under his eyes.

Finally, as if doing anything but went against her very nature, her eyes landed on James who moved to stand before her. She noticed the gash above his right eye first as his hand came down to cup her face.

“I came to make sure you were all right,” she responded to the earlier question as James’s thumb brushed against her lips. “I was worried,” she admitted. Her eyes scanned his face and frowned at the small bruise forming on his cheek. Her need to make sure James was okay masked whatever reply Sirius aimed her way.

“How long have you been here?” James whispered as she eyed the blood staining his white shirt. Against her will, she moved her hand there and heard a groan from her boyfriend—whether from pleasure or pain, Lily couldn’t say. Rolling the shirt up revealed a small cut on his stomach and a blue bruise forming to its right.

“I snuck in at eleven.”

“Evans,” he admonished as she turned to grab her wand from his bed. Her fingers tightly grasped it, hovering it over the cut and whispering a quick charm. Slowly, the skin began joining together until returning to its previous state. “It’s four in the morning, cariad,” he tilted her chin to meet the hazel eyes that darkened as he studied her face with a perplexed look, lightening a bit when he seemed satisfied at what he saw. “You silly girl,” he whispered affectionately with a kiss to her head.

She hummed but proceeded to work on his abdomen, her wand once more lingering over his stomach. “It’s my first time knowing you were out there,” she reminded him as she watched the blue bruise lighten to yellow and back to the usual paleness of his skin. She leaned in and pressed her lips to the spot the bruise had been, then pushed him back with her palm against his stomach. Standing up, she headed toward the two boys—now changed in the minutes it had taken her to heal James—who stared at her, one in wonder and the other confused. Her boyfriend gave a brief squeeze to her hips as he passed toward the boys’ bathroom.

“How’s Remus,” she asked as she approached Sirius’s bed and quickly positioned her wand over the first of his cuts, watching as it disappeared as James’s had.

“A few scratches but nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle,” Sirius answered as she progressed to the next cut. “You know you don’t have to worry about us, right? We’ve been doing this for over two years now and, well, we’ve managed.”

She paused over the next laceration. “I’ll always worry about you four, you idiot.” She healed the last of the slashes on his face before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He grinned up at her, before rolling his eyes and thrusting out his arms at her. “You’re mad, Evans.” That, she knew, really just meant he loved her but was too stubborn to admit it.

“I love you too,” she responded instead as she made haste on his arms and stepped back to admire her work. “Now was that so bad?”

“Excruciating,” he replied, leaning back on his bed with his hands behind his head. “Not sure I’ll recover, so you might have to stay and nurse me back to health.”

She threw her head back laughing as James walked back from the bathroom. A tone of faux annoyance as he uttered “Padfoot” and aimed a pillow at his face, which Sirius expertly blocked.

“You okay, Pete?” she asked once she was done laughing, dashing toward Peter’s bed.

“Yeah, just sore,” he said with a yawn. She kissed his cheek too. “Get some rest.” He nodded slowly and seconds later was already asleep, the soft snores escaping him. She closed the curtains around his bed and stood before her boyfriend who opened his arms out for her, which she gladly settled in.

“Hi,” she mumbled as he pressed his lips against hers softly, his palms pressing onto her back to bring her in closer. She sighed against him, interrupted by Sirius’s wolf whistle snapping her out of it.

“You’re a prick,” she told him. He just chuckled, throwing the curtains around his own bed closed.

“Use the spell,” Sirius said, and her cheeks reddened at the implication.

Turning to James again, Lily placed her hand on his face, removing his glasses before bringing her wand over the last of his injuries. “Are there any more?” she asked, placing his glasses back on him. Her fingers lingering here as she took him in, reminding herself he was safe now. He was here with her. She resisted the urge to bury herself into his arms, resisted the urge to never let him leave her embrace again.

His gaze on her was slowly breaking that resolve, as he leant against his bedpost. The soft, crooked smile she had once assumed he aimed at her to provoke her into a fight. “Nothing visible,” he said, the gold in his eyes overpowering the green and lulling her into the tranquility she had not felt since he had left the castle. “A little soreness but nothing I can’t handle.”

She sighed, dropping her hands from his cheeks. “I guess I should head back to my dorm and let you sleep.” She brushed a stand of red hair, that surely looked as frazzled as if she was finishing up a potion, behind her ear.

Without hesitating, his arms pulled at her waist flushing her chest against him as her arms landed on his chest, before moving around his neck to deepen it. “Stay,” he sighed against her lips before taking her lower lip into his mouth.

She slightly distanced herself against his protests, not able to think with his ministrations causing her to feel as if someone had cast a jelly-legs curse on her. “What?”

“Stay with me—stay the night?” A small awkward chuckle escaped him as his fingers tapped against her waist. Aiming another crooked smile her way, he added: “If you want.”

If she wanted.

Even in the days she had stayed at his house, Lily and James had never spent the night in the same bed. Yet, it had never been her against the arrangement in the name of proper courting. Never her who wanted to pull her lips away from him as their kisses developed insatiated minds of their own. Although, she didn’t know how proper their behavior could be considering they had fooled around—leaving her more bothered than she would care to admit—and her thighs had often been brought over his shoulders, showing her how desperately he wanted her even if they hadn’t taken that final step.

All things of which her Catholic mother should never find out.

No, it was never her, so the word “Okay” slipped out of her lips almost too fast.

“Okay,” he replied back, a flush now on his cheek as he let her go, grabbing the book she had left at the end of his bed. He slid in first as Lily took off her dressing robe and threw it on top of his desk. James chuckled at the revelation of his Quidditch jersey.

“I do like seeing my name on your back,” he mumbled against her lips as she climbed in next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he shifted the covers over her.

“Hmm…keep winning, and you’ll see more of it.”

He laughed, placing a kiss on her shoulder as his hands trailed down her side. “Not sure more is exactly what I want to see, Evans.”

“Mm… that can be arranged too, Potter,” she uttered, bring him in closer for another kiss, not being able to get enough of him now that she was in his arms again. “You let me know when.”

He broke the kiss apart, grinning down at her. “Okay, so where did you leave off with this?” he asked waving the book in his hand.

***

In the morning, they decide to skip their first class, opting for an additional half hour of sleep. Or, in actuality, another half hour of James kissing her after Peter and Sirius went down to the kitchens where they were set to join them before checking in on Remus.

With the invisibility cloak wrapped around her, James walked Lily back to the girls’ staircase, gripping her hand as best as he could without seeming too suspicious to the few students lingering in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes,” he whispered under his breath, his other hand coming up to ruffle his hair. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulled her into him, brushing her chest against him as his chin came to rest on the top of her head. “I love you—you have no idea how much, Lily.”

She pressed her palm against his chest, feeling for his heart beat and gripping at the robes there. “I love you, James,” she sighed, knowing these words were an understatement, knowing that no words could ever really hold the weight of her love for him, her fear for him, her hope for him.

He let her go after a moment, stepping back as if to restrain himself. “Ten minutes, Evans.” She nodded, though he couldn’t see her, and slowly headed up the stairs as if she were tethered to him and the growing distance was resisting the pull. Moments later, she was happy for the pull.

“Are you still there?” he asked and she turned back to look at him, standing where she left him. She didn’t say a word, unsure why. She stood there, looking at him as he messed up his hair even more and chuckled as he stared at the spot she had been.

With a gentleness to it, he sighed and said, “I’m going to marry her.” She waited for him to head back toward the boys’ staircase before turning and continuing up her own, a new giddiness to her step as pushed open her dormitory door.

She’s going to marry James Potter.

“This one.”

“Huh.” Lily’s eyebrows draw together. “Not what I had in mind.”

Nevertheless, she plucks the deerstalker out of Sirius’s hands and tries it on; luxuriantly soft, brown checked tweed that works perfectly with her hair. She flaps the front visor up and down, looking in the mirror from different angles, winking flirtatiously and batting her eyelashes.

“I wonder if—”

Cautiously, she peers around the shop; her gaze catches James Potter at the back, modelling a jacket, all smirks and broad shoulders. Not a look at her. Her smile falters.