moved to @alstroemeriablack

Once Lily would have been repulsed by that idea, but one year later everything has changed—James has changed—and everything about him appeals to her. The way he cares for everyone around him. The way he smiles patiently whenever he is explaining something. The way he grins as if to invite the world to share a great funny joke with him. How he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous. How he is so expansive that he seems to occupy any room he is in. How he loves flying, even more than Quidditch, and how relaxed he seems when he is on a broom. How he talks to her, taking it seriously when she needs to and making a joke when things get too serious. How he opens up about his own life and doubts and listens to her.

That would make them friends, really good friends, but then Lily’s heart would not stop racing when he’d touched her hand, or when their knees would bump while sitting closely in the library and then she was forced to note all the physical aspects—the muscles of his arms, the shape of full lips, the line of his jaw, the hazel kaleidoscope of his eyes and how fit he was—and give up any belief her feelings were limited to a friendship.

She fancies him, okay.

Except it’s not okay, because it’s dangerous and by now Lily is positive that James knows it too. Everyone knows it.

They end up together, just the two of them, a lot during that summer. It takes Lily a few days to realize it’s not a coincidence that her interests never align with those of her friends—if she wants to swim, somehow it’s only her and James in the sea; at night, even though it’s still so warm, they are the only ones who venture into the pool for a midnight swim, while the others stay stubbornly indoors.

When Lily suggests going to town to grab an ice cream, somehow James is the only one who is in the mood for it, despite the heat.

It’s not on purpose from his part—at least that’s how Lily sees it—but he isn’t refusing her company either and neither is she refusing his, so James’ boldness flourishes that summer. It’s not cocky as it once would be, it’s just a quiet acceptance that something is finally happening between them as if he never stopped believing it would be possible. Lily feels it when he throws his arm around her shoulders when they are sitting close, almost absently, almost not noticing when Lily lays her head over his shoulder; it’s there when he openly gawks the first time he sees her in a swimming suit, only to be nudged in the ribs by Sirius and then complimenting her ('good thing you wear robes at school, Evans, or there wouldn’t be much schoolwork done'). It’s definitely there when he intertwines their hands, pulling her to the sea with him.

And it’s there when they are sitting closer than they would need for a bench so wide, watching seagulls flying over the sea, each one holding an ice cream.

‘Chocolate chips with chocolate cover and chocolate sprinkles,’ James teases. ‘I think you have an addiction, Lily.’

‘Guilty,’ she replies, not ashamed at all, proving her ice cream and very aware of how James is staring at her. ‘It’s better than asking for vanilla ice cream.’

‘Hey!’ He would look deeply offended if not for the grin on his lips. ‘I’ll let you know vanilla is the best flavour.’

‘Never took you for a vanilla guy, James.’

‘What would take me for? The adventurous gorgeous type?’

Lily laughs, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to lie to him and deny it.

‘Attractive mysterious type, then?’ he insists. ‘Handsome scoundrel?’

‘I notice your beauty is enhanced a lot.’

‘My beauty? So you admit that I’m beautiful, Evans?’

‘Do I need to? You seem to already know it.’

‘I enjoy hearing you saying all the same,’ he says, and though James shrugs easily she can sense the shift in his eyes, the nervous glint there. ‘That means we would make a beautiful couple.’

‘We would,’ she whispers, still not wanting to lie.

She turns back her attention to the ice cream, already melting under the scorching sun. It makes a mess, and James laughs as she tries to lick the ice cream out of her hands, but then his laugh dies and she watches him swallow slowly, reacting. He always reacts to her.

She licks her lips now, and he also watches this movement, the grin on his face replaced by concentration—no, determination, a fierce look and Lily knows what James will do even before he raises his hand to slide his thumb at the corner of her mouth.

‘You missed here,’ he says, and though he must have wiped off the ice cream already, his caress remains.

His eyes are dark now, even under the sunlight, and he registers how Lily hasn’t stepped back, how she raises her head just the slightest to get closer to him. His gaze strays to her lips, Lily blinks, and then James looks back at her.

‘Lily,’ he says, and it’s a question.

‘James,’ she says, and it’s the only answer she can give him.

His lips find hers and in the bright darkness that surrounds Lily when she closes her eyes, she can see everything in colour. The white of his taste of vanilla. The green of his perfume that reminds her of early mourning in the woods. The brown of his skin as he pulls her closer, one hand holding the back of her neck and the other hand finding hers, locking their fingers together. The red of her blood pumping furiously through her veins, so loud and unstoppable.

And she sees him, messy dark hair, hazel bright eyes, her own sun.

But when they break apart, when she watches him keeping his eyes closed a second longer—savouring it, remembering it—, all that comes to her mind it’s the warning.

Taint his blood.

Her smile falters.

‘James,’ she whispers, all warmth of the day gone, hating everything but herself so much more when he opens his eyes and they are filled with hope. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

And this is the second lie she tells him.

___________

III.

Summer is over as far as Lily is concerned, but they still have two weeks in which she forces a smile up to her lips that doesn’t fool anyone.

Everyone knows something happened, though no one knows exactly what, and Lily feels too tired to pretend everything is normal. James barely acknowledges her when they are in the same room, and in the few occasions their eyes meet, there is nothing of that familiarity that he once thrived to share with her. He looks confused and hurt.

Lily could deal with the confusion but she is powerless against the hurt. She is the one who damaged him after all.

Their friends are mostly adamant in letting them deal with the situation, one notable exception being Sirius Black, but Lily didn’t expect anything less from him. He watches her rather resentfully in the first days, and Lily starts looking for excuses to avoid attending the events she had carefully arranged with them (with James, sitting by the edge of the lake, holding a scroll against his back as they wrote everything they would do, laughing and planning and hoping).

The summer days are hot, unbearably hot, and the breeze that comes through the window of her room isn’t enough. She could cast a Cooling Charm, but her wand is far away and the fact that she can cast spells outside school has lost its appeal now. She doesn't even celebrate when her school letter comes with a badge attached to it.

Most of the time Lily just stares at the ceiling of her room, finding patterns in the painting that aren’t really there, too strained and too tired to avoid being even more strained—her mind keeps replaying the moment James leaned closer, the brief moment his breath tingled her skin and the softness of his lips over hers, and Lily has no strength to avoid it. She is addicted to it, to the one thing she had a taste of and cannot have again.

Five days into hiding (she is hiding, Lily won’t deny it), her sister knocks on her door to tell her unceremoniously that one of her freak friends has come to visit her.

‘Hurry, I don’t want Vernon finding him when he arrives,’ Petunia tells her, and Lily ignores her completely.

Him, she said. Him, Lily thinks, and her mind conjures James sitting on the couch of her parents’ living room, a grin on his lips as he charms his way with her parents (he charmed her, Lily doesn’t see what challenge her parents would present), accepting a cup of tea and looking around trying to understand all the muggle contraptions in that muggle house—

Muggle lover. All the worse for him.

She rushes downstairs, her heart pounding on her head, her mouth dry with the excuses she will have to present (go away, just go away) but it’s not James after all.

Sirius looks even more out of place than the James she imagined inside her head, standing with his arms crossed in that pastel living room, and with an unhappy grimace on his lips. He turns at the sound of her, his grey eyes burning disapprovingly—and then, as he stares at her, his expression shifts.

‘You are a mess, Evans.’

Self-consciousness washes over her, and Lily runs her hand through her hair—or tries to, because it gets stuck in the knots of her messy braid. She knows she hasn’t changed clothes ever since she woke up, though it’s nearly midday, so she does the only thing she can: she presses her lips, crosses her arms and tries to look unfazed.

‘I wasn’t expecting a visit,’ she says. It’s summer break, she can do nothing all day.

‘I didn’t even mean your appearance. It was more your… aura.’

‘Aura,’ she repeats, a tiny part of her finding this amusing, but Lily can’t muster strength enough to break a smile. ‘Very mystical, Sirius.’

‘That’s me, master of occult arts. But in this case, I just needed to look at you. You—you look miserable.’

‘Thanks. If that’s all you wanted to say—’

‘Oh, no, I came here to give you a piece of my mind about how you broke my best friend’s heart, but you look somehow worse than him. What’s going on?’

Lily shrugs. ‘Nothing.’

‘So you just decided to play with his feelings and ditch him the moment he corresponded?’

His words are a poison that crawls through her skin, entering it slowly but certain; Lily feels it reaching her bloodstream, spreading through every part of her body, until the poison finds her heart. She thought she was oblivious to pain after the last days, but she was wrong.

‘I wasn’t playing with his feelings,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse, so close to breaking.

‘Then what? I thought—everyone thought—you fancied him too. Merlin, Evans, that boy was in love with you.’

The worst part is that Lily knows it. It was not a play to James, it never was. She saw it in the way his face lighted up at the sight of her, how eager he was to become friends once Lily first extended her peace flag. She saw how his eyes always looked first for her in any room he entered, how he’d find any reason to stay closer.

And she saw everything because she was paying attention.

Of course she was. One does not fall in love also if not paying attention.

‘I don’t know what to say, Sirius,’ Lily says truthfully. ‘I am sorry for all the confusion I’ve caused.’

‘Sorry is not enough.’

‘I know.’

Sirius watches her with something that borders on disappointment now. ‘You better find a way of fixing this, Evans.’

‘I—I don’t know how. I’m trying to keep my distance—’

‘And how is that helping you two?’

It’s not, Lily knows, and that’s the point. She can’t explain to James what is the problem and she is afraid that if she sees him again, if her determination falters her for one second—

‘We are going to have a party tomorrow night,’ Sirius says, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘Dorcas’ house. It’s a goodbye party, we even invited the muggle neighbours. You’ll come, you’ll find James and you’ll talk. Fix this.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You better find a way, Evans, because that thing of keeping your distance? Well, Hogwarts letter came yesterday. Let me guess, you are Head Girl.’

Lily nods, not understanding where Sirius is heading with this.

‘Guess who’s Head Boy this year?’

____________

Lily hears the music as soon as she disapparates near Dorcas’ house. People, young people around her age, are walking towards the house and she joins the flow letting herself get lost in that stream of people, hoping it’s enough to not draw attention to her presence.

It’s useless. As soon as she crosses the doorway, Dorcas cries for her, her voice louder than the music, and then people look at her curiously.

‘Merlin, Lily!’ Dorcas cries, ignoring everyone in the room to whom that sentence makes no sense. ‘I thought I would need to invade the Prefect’s Cabin to see you again.’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Lily says, accepting Dorcas’ hug, and using it as an excuse to avoid looking around. ‘I had stuff to do.’

It’s vague, it’s almost a lie, and Dorcas is on the edge of discussing it when Lily says she is going to get a drink, leaving the room.

When she reaches the kitchen, Lily considers that having herself questioned by Dorcas was preferable, because of course she runs into James at the first opportunity.

And of course he already has a company.

He is with his back to her, holding a bottle of beer in his hand while he talks with a pretty dark-haired girl. In another time Lily would find amusing how James obviously has no idea what he’s talking about—muggle rock bands, a subject that Sirius would fare better—, but she can’t break a smile right now, because she sees that James is trying.

That’s what he is doing with that unknown girl. He is making a real effort to keep a conversation, trying to understand what she is saying; he is trying to look interesting, to gather her attention.

Ten days, she thinks selfishly. We kissed ten days ago and I can’t stop thinking about it and you are flirting with another girl.

He must sense her staring; he turns around, and his eyes find her for a brief second before Lily bolts through the door (she is running, and she won’t deny it), grabbing the first bottle she sees on her way out.

Sirius must have lied to her (you broke my best friend’s heart), because James looks normal. Not hurt anymore, just… normal. Not like he used to like her in those first glorious days of the summer—bright and hopeful and awaiting—but as if she is just anyone else. Ordinary.

It’s fair, all things considered. She couldn’t expect him to remain in love with the girl who kissed him then rejected him. But she sees it, clearly as day, what the future holds: James will move on whatever he feels for her (that boy was in love with you) and then he will do with someone else everything he used to do with her—that inviting grins, the glint in his eyes, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, so… intimate. Familiar. Hers.

He will share with others what used to be hers.

She leaves the house, in search of a quiet place at the beach to sit on, and looks at the bottle in her hands. Wine. Not good. She will take forever to get drunk on wine and afterwards the headache won’t even be worth it.

But it’s all she has and James is somewhere in that house flirting with a girl (that’s not her) that didn’t reject him and he has every right to do it. Even if it’s a muggle girl. Even if the reason Lily is not with him is that she is muggleborn.

It’s ironic and it’s sad, but it’s not the same. This is a one-night thing. It’s the end of the summer, he’s probably just looking for the last bit of carefree summer adventure as the single guy he is. They will just dance with each other, close together, enjoying their freedom, finding a secluded room, and he will touch the corner of her lips, asking, and she will say yes because that’s the only answer she can give him.

It won’t mean anything, but this time it will be true and this time James won’t get hurt by it.

Maybe Lily should do the same. Not to get even, but to start her own way forward. She can’t be harbouring her feelings for him—wasn’t that the point of not advancing things? Wasn’t that why she lied to him? (That kiss had meant everything)

She takes a sip of the wine, then another and one more for good measure, and she rises, almost colliding with him. Of course.

‘Hey,’ he says awkwardly, arms extended to steady her. It lasts less than a second, but his hands over her arms burn all the same, stronger than the heat any day of that summer.

‘Hi.’

He is looking at a point over her head, unable to meet her eyes, his hand lifting the hair at the back of his head and Lily remembers running her fingers through the strands of his hair while they were kissing, enjoying the fact that for once she was the one messing it.

‘Look, I’m just gonna say it, okay?’ James says in a rush, not as when he is excitedly talking about something he finds interesting. ‘I’m sorry for—for everything.’

Everything. What does it mean?

‘I am too,’ she answers carefully. He takes a deep breath.

‘I heard we are going to be Heads this year—I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, really—and I don’t want things to be weird between us.’

Weird. Things were never weird between them before. They weren’t friends, then Lily barely stood him, then they were acquaintances, then they were friends, then they were flirting with each other and then they were so close to something.

But never weird.

Somehow this notion helps to clear the fog in her head.

‘I don’t want it either,’ Lily says, and there is no doubt in her voice. James seems to breathe again with her words.

‘Good.’ There is a moment of silence. ‘Can we forget everything and go back to being just friends?’

Lily steels herself. She takes a look at James’ face—his eyes are on her forehead now, almost meeting her eyes but not yet ready—, one last look to admire him in the darkness of the beach and she is not lying when she says: ‘We can.’

By the end of the night it will be a lie, though, and that’s number three.

___________

They are trying and because no one tries better than James Potter, they are almost achieving it.

They go back to the house, keeping a safe distance between them so no one could misinterpret it, but whatever their friends see in their faces seems to relax everyone. Lily and James are fine, they believe, they are over that weird thing between them, and Lily starts believing it too.

She can do it.

A bottle of gin finds its way towards her group and the music is exciting. It’s a party, she is on a party, and it’s easy to join Dorcas in the middle of a dance, and it’s even easier when Dorcas is replaced by a cute muggle boy who doesn’t look anything like James (that’s why it’s easier—it takes only one second for her to look for any similarity and find none and it’s so easy).

She wonders if that’s why James was talking to that dark-haired girl. If he was avoiding finding Lily in someone else too.

But that’s a bad thought, it’s not a thought of someone who’s trying (and Lily is, she swears), so she accepts his arms, let who-knows-his-name twirl her around the room, but when he leans in to kiss her, she laughs and diverts—she is trying, but it takes small steps, so she says something about getting another drink and goes to the next room.

That’s a mistake.

A big, big mistake.

She finds them sitting close together on a couch that should only fit one, joining some silly drinking game. His arm is around her shoulders, holding a glass that’s nearly finished; they are laughing and as Lily watches it, the girl leans closer to speak something in his ear, her hand playing with the curls of his hair as she speaks. It takes a full second, but he grins, turning to her and winking.

It could be nothing, it could be just some joke, but it’s not harmless, Lily knows it. It’s a flirt, and James has every right to do it; he is free and Lily has just told him they can be friends. Friends don’t get jealous. Friends don’t get their hearts ripped out with the sight of the other smiling happily at someone else.

Lily can’t do it at all.

So she turns away and runs once more (she’s getting quite good at it by now), sprinting upstairs in search of an empty room, somewhere where she can rest until she can breathe again, until she can rearrange her expression into something normal enough for her to come back to the party, find that blond guy who is not James and enjoy her summer break as he is doing right now.

Until she can pretend everything is normal.

‘Lily?’

His voice breaks the silence of that room—though Lily knows she would have heard it anyway—and it sends a wave of panic through her body. She is not ready. She can’t look at him and still keep her promise.

James doesn’t know about her troubles—he is trying after all, and he is so much better at this than Lily will ever be—so he walks towards her, takes a look at her face and kneels in front of her.

‘Are you okay?’

‘No,’ she says, unable to lie. He would see through her anyway.

‘I saw you leaving—what happened?’

‘I need more time. I can’t...’

‘Can’t what?’ She doesn’t answer. James sighs. ‘Are you drunk? Come on, rest a little, I will bring you some water—’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Lily says. Another truth. ‘I just need—I want—’

‘What?’

In answer, she raises her hand and lets her fingers comb his hair. He shivers, his breath catching, his eyes widening and he holds her arm to stop the movement. Nervous. Insecure. She can’t fault him. They’ve been there before, at the edge of something, and she accepted only to turn him away a second later.

‘What are you doing?’

It’s a demand more than a question, and Lily attends it. ‘I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do. It’s mine.’

Her voice is ferocious and unfair and Lily waits for his cold reply, the one she deserves—she has no right to claim any part of him—, but it never comes. Instead, James blinks.

‘Then take it,’ he challenges. Lily does.

Her lips crash over his, and this time is not soft or patient. It’s desperate and when she tastes the whiskey in his mouth, she understands the difference and gladly accepts it. His hands are everywhere—holding her waist, climbing under her skirt, running through her hair to pull her closer—but what somehow stays with her it’s the moment he closes the door and then they are alone and the darkness is their friend.

The darkness makes it easy, embarrassingly easy, for her to break the kiss enough to lift his shirt and for him to slide her dress down and for them to find their way to the bed. He holds her, his lips incessantly, and a part of Lily wonders if he doesn’t want to break apart for fear of what happened the last time he did it.

But the majority of her is too wrapped in the feelings he is bringing to worry about anything. She accepts him, accepts every caress he distributes openly, and returns it eagerly. She tastes the saltiness of his skin, feels every muscle of his chest—the ones she has memorized after so many days at the beach though she had only imagined how they would feel under her fingers—, presses herself closer to him. His hands are exploring her—he saw her at the beach too—and then his mouth replaces his hands and the moan that escapes her lips is true.

She pulls him up, tasting her own sweat on his lips—it was a warm day and it’s a warmer night—and her hands work on the button of his jeans. There is a moment of hesitation—he breaks away, his eyes boring into hers even as the darkness barely allows them to see each other—and then it’s gone. He pulls her last piece of cloth then stands up long enough to take out his last one and then there is only them.

Only Lily and James, except they don’t feel like two anymore. They are one and in the darkness, Lily sees those colours that are so James once more, fireworks whose sounds are moans and short breaths and names whispered so low that the other could pretend they didn’t hear.

But Lily hears it and it’s hers. He is hers for that moment and she is his.

She lied before (and now she knows it). She can’t forget him. She can’t be just friends. James is bright sunny days, cosy cold nights and she longs to share it all with him (she couldn’t, but her mind can’t recall why right now). She locks her hand with his, her nails burying into his skin, and Lily doesn’t want to let go.

He holds her hand, pressing it so hard that she can’t feel circulation there anymore, and then he cries her name, this time impossible to deny it. He called her.

It’s not the last time he will do it tonight. He presses another kiss to her lips—it’s feverish and urgent and somehow even more desperate than the first one—, rests his forehead against her catching his breath and Lily enjoys the moment, enjoys that pleasure and soreness that runs through her body, enjoys how her chest brushes against his as she breathes, slower each time, recovering.

Recover. As if she could.

James breaks apart, rolling to the side and for a moment there is silence, the music distant, the world distant until it’s not anymore, until the world seems too close and the air too heavy, not one breeze to refresh it. Lily thinks of opening the window—it’s already opened, the wind bringing the smell of the sea to the room—when she realizes it’s not the air that feels wrong.

It’s them. No, it’s him.

‘James,’ she calls, panic and fear trembling her voice, coldness spreading through her skin in a way that it should not be possible, not on this summer day.

She can hear him rising from the bed, grabbing his clothes.

‘Lily,’ he answers shortly, opening briefly the door and she can’t see his face. ‘I know, it doesn’t mean anything.’

SO - I was actually so nervous to put the long snippet out there that had this quote in it:

"I’m dead, she thinks, even as she feels the steady thump-thump against her ribs, I’m dead. I’m dead. He found us. We’re dead."

because I was like oh that basically gives up the whole game lol, but luckily it was not so obvious that people immediately knew I was referencing canon. WHEW! I mean, a few people guessed, but thankfully if any other people figured it out they kept it to themselves so I wouldn't have a meltdown HAHA

I wanted the first flashback to be of Harry because 1) it immediately sets up what the past lives were without me having to explicitly say it (woohoo less world-building for me, a Lazy Person) and 2) I can establish that this is going to really center on undoing the tragedy of canon. I haven't really read a lot of 'lovers in a past life' fics, but one thing that has nagged at me when I have is that I want to know why these people got a second chance. what was so tragic about their past lives? why do they deserve a do-over?

and if anyone deserves a fucking do-over, it's canon Jily.

--

this scene also has possibly one of my favorite lines of the entire fic, which is:

"The stoplight switches from red to green, and without knowing why, Lily flinches."

I actually stared at that line for a good few minutes after writing it, because it felt like such a good, concise encapsulation of the entire plot of the story - she doesn't know what's going on, or why her body is reacting like it is, but she sees this flash of green light in front of her (obvious allusion to what her last sight was in canon as Voldemort cast the killing curse) and has a physical, visceral reaction. it's also more subtle of a line than I'm usually able to write, lol.

--

fun fact about the case I give Lily: that's actually based on when I worked for a French pastry store in college as a barista, and they made me sign a contract like that upon hiring, which was just...absurd. and then I showed it to my dad, who's a commercial litigator, and he responded with "that is the least enforceable contract I've ever seen in my life." so. fuck you, mister J. burrows.

also, for those wondering, Burrows and Elkins ended up settling for a reduced sum a few months later. neither Lily or James cared.

--

THIS lawyerly passage:

"At this, Lily can only quirk an incredulous brow; he’s just violated one of the cardinal rules of practicing law. He’s mentioned fairness.

Fairness has no place in a court of law, and neither does it in this conference room. Settlements and verdicts aren’t decided based upon what’s fair, or even what’s right; they’re decided based upon who adheres to a contract more—or alternately, who decides first to accuse the other of not adhering to said contract. In criminal cases, this contract is the law; in civil cases, it’s the documents and agreements that assign the distribution of money.

Every competent lawyer knows this. Frankly, every incompetent lawyer knows it, too, but they choose to try and leverage it anyway, because they’re either too emotional or too lacking in logic not to. It’s one of the first things taught in any legal education."

comes from a book I read in which a Contracts prof makes a very similar argument on the first day with his 1L class. I took a few liberties and am willing to admit that the whole "in civil cases, it's the documents and agreements that assign the distribution of money" is a bit contrived, but I wanted to show off how knowledgeable and sharp Lily is. so. inner monologue to the rescue!

--

ok I haven't really talked about this before, but writing those flashback scenes was HARD. honestly one of the harder things I've ever tried to write - trying to find a concise, legible way of describing the sensation of having an audiovisual hallucination was damn near impossible!! so saying "the world flickers" was me just being like WELL I GUESS IT DOES

--

the email-countersuit scene is where I really throw all knowledge of civil trial proceedings into the wind and say fuck it. would those reviews have actually been enough for a libel suit? do lawyers need to notify opposing counsel when filing a countersuit? do they need to communicate that via phone or email or letter? would Lily's counterclaim to his counterclaim even do anything? who the fuck knows! not me!

but that notwithstanding I did have seven separate tabs with various "how to file a countersuit" "what do barristers do vs solicitors" "how to set up a deposition" articles open at all times when writing. I am now seeing targeted ads for Men's Warehouse suits. FML.

--

the Sirius scene is....one of my favs.

THIS wonderful moment:

"It finally takes Lily’s own screeching objection—you two should be ashamed of yourselves, I know exactly what you’re doing, this venue provides a free lunch at half-noon so you’re asking nonsense question to keep this going, did you think I wouldn’t know—to get the meeting back on-track."

is quite literally word-for-word something my mom did in the 80s when a bunch of asshole lawyers kept asking bullshit questions to her witness during a depo because they wanted a catered lunch. and she actually yelled this at them. fucking queen shit.

also, I felt no need to include Peter in the flashback because there was just no way he'd contribute to that. and he wasn't going to make an appearance IRL so, goodbye sir, u are not needed

--

Remus as an A&E doctor made so much sense to me. he would subject himself to that much stress.

another fav passage!

"When Lily was twenty, she went on a trip to Paris with her best friend, and they watched the movie Inception for the first time in the hotel room. The next day, she walked the same streets she’d seen explode and fold inward onto themselves, and she biked to the same bridge where Ariadne grabbed ahold of the world and turned it into mirrors for her to shatter.

Hearing Remus confirm his friendship with James Potter gives her the same feeling; that she’s bearing witness to the intersection of fiction and reality, something grounded in the living world that holds a single, enduring tether to the imaginary."

I know this was very random of me, but I was not sure how to describe the feeling that Lily must have had when realizing that her subconscious brain has somehow predicted that Remus and James would know each other, and then I was like - oh, let's have her think about a movie and reconcile it with the real world.

plus, idk if anyone picked up on this, but the entire premise of inception is the mingling of dreams and reality. HMMMM? HMMMMMMM?

--

the dancing-to-the-beatles scene was the first thing that made me kinda cry writing the story. and I listened to blackbird while writing it, so that Made Things Worse. also, suze, that one was for u, my Beatles queen. ty for the tears xo

--

"Then, one day, he sends her a link to an upcoming exhibit at the V&A called Masters of European Impressionism. She’d been staring at the same link a few days prior, but had clicked off, abashed by ticket prices.

The link comes with a short message: my family are members, so we got some extra tickets we’re not going to use. I don’t know why, but you seem like the type to be a fan of impressionism. Let me know if you want the tix."

yeah I like impressionist art! and all of my art friends make fun of me for it because it's apparently very plebeian of me to have it be my fav style! so I was like fuck u Lily is going to like European Impressionism and we're all going to respect her for it.

also, we can expect another reference to Van Gogh in Bond and Free. just so u know that I know that u know.

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one of the things that made me so nervous about putting this piece out there is the lack of dialogue. like, most of their communications happen via text/email/phone call, not really in-person. in fact, they see each other 4 times (once without dialogue!) before the Halloween Scene, and I debated for a while if that would be a turn-off for people or if everyone would just skip over the descriptive bits. so, thanks for not doing that, if you didn't!

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SPEAKING OF the coffee scene:

"They run into each other in a Starbucks in Victoria the first weekend of September. He makes puns. She rolls her eyes but laughs, forcing reluctance for whatever semblance of disdain she can try and play at in his presence. He pays for her coffee. When she objects, stating that there’s no reason to single her out, she can pay for her own coffee, so he might as well just pay for everyone else’s coffee, while he’s at it, for god’s sake, he just blinks at her and shrugs.

And then he pays for everyone else’s coffee."

if you read the structure of the sentences in that paragraph, everything James does is very simple - 'he makes puns.' 'he pays for her coffee.' 'he just blinks at her and shrugs' while Lily's sentences are super long and run-on.

this is because I wanted to give everyone a very visceral look into the way that lily perceives their situation: she feels like she's in the middle of a very complex internal conflict, but to her, James is cool and collected and unbothered - she's not even registering any minute action he does other than 'he pays for her coffee' and 'he makes puns.'

if this had been from his perspective, it probably would have been reversed!

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the war scene AHHHH

so, 2nd time J has called her after/during a dream. AKA, this man is having the same dreams as you, miss Lily, and he very much needs to confirm that you're ok and safe, but in this one we see him regret the decision and hang up before she can answer, unlike after The Sex Dreams, in which this man was so thirsty and so confused he just picked up the phone very desperately wanted to hear her voice. HA simp

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can y'all tell I have never been to a psychic?

the Splintered Star thing was really fun to think about though, and I'm honestly not sure where it came from. it just felt very Fated and Destiny-based and I liked that it kinda-sorta explained the traversing of universes/reincarnation.

also. y'all rockin with the multiverse???

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SO. so. the wedding scene. Yowza.

I know that it's a bit wild for Lily to just up and ask him what happens when they die, because like wow bitch u rlly said 0-100 Real Quick, but at this point she is so frazzled and sleep-deprived and desperate to sort her head out that it actually felt very honest to have her just skip over the small talk.

conversely, this also means that she hears his answer from a slightly-less-logical standpoint, and just takes it as a sign that he doesn't remember her instead of investigating further. but like. she's fucking tired y'all!!!!

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YEAAAHHHHH the Train Station scene.

this made me cry super hard writing. I hope that is consolation to everyone. I was nervous because I know in canon it's like, The Veil, but this felt the most reminiscent of when Harry is about to die in DH, and I also really wanted to establish a sense of movement with their deaths. they don't just cross a Veil, they get on a train and they don't know where it's going to take them.

also, fun fact, I had another part of this scene mapped where the train makes a stop and they see Harry about to confront Voldemort in DH, and J gets to say his famous "until the very end" line, but I was pretty sure at that point I'd be run off Tumblr with pitchforks, so I just left it. but now all of you know. so. WHOOPS

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Did I just add the detail that Harry was dressed up like a little deer when Voldemort attacked? Yes, I did.

Did I also add the detail that James's wand was in the laundry basket because he's a Frazzled Dad and that's why he attacked Voldemort without a wand? Yes, I did.

Did I then continue to add the detail that Lily hears James's body hit the floor? Yes. I really did.

It's ok, I hated myself too.

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the Halloween reunion scene was...so hard. writing this story was so tough overall, because I had to not only give Modern J&L a reason to fall for each other independently of their last incarnations, but with this, build up to their reunion with enough emotional tension, and then on top of that, create an event or moment that would trigger them both to just lose their minds and reunite, even disregarding The Wedding. and adding the flashbacks on top of that?? GOD.

so. Halloween!

"The broken fragments of her past life are fusing together messily inside her head. Every blink of her eyes is a fleeting, flashing memory.

Mum and dad in Cokeworth. Petunia. Hogwarts. Magic. The war. The Order.

James. Harry.

Lily lurches off of the couch, nauseous, and tumbles down to her knees, hiccuping and gagging as sounds and smells and sights run a blitzkrieg on her brain, and she’s London in the First World War, time-weathered buildings crumbling within her, houses and schools and cathedrals burning into ash, giving way to rubble. It’s too much, to see all of it at once; to be two people, to share all the pain and the fear and the joy in vibrant technicolor."

I really, really wanted to get into the physicality of this. I think it would have to be painful and unpleasant and shocking to remember all of these things, and I think that the magnitude of her realization is part of what makes this moment so important: she doesn't just see flashbacks of a random other life - she has full, unmitigated understanding of who she is AND was. and then, because of this, she realizes she needs to see James there.

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I loved writing J standing in the rain outside of her apartment. it felt equal parts tragic and sexy LMAO and absolutely something I could imagine him doing.

also, this passage:

"Logically, Lily knows that there are no witches or wizards or wands in this world, understands that whatever earth she lived in for her past life was built on different fundamental elements than this one, but when she throws the door open, she decides that there must be some sort of dormant, kinetic magic swimming below levels of dirt and magma, running subterranean pathways that sizzle and spark."

was so important to me - I had it written pretty much from the outset. because, yeah, I've sort of convinced you all that there's no magic in this world, but to get back to the base of it all: these people are soulmates who have been reincarnated. do we really believe that there's no otherworldly business going on?

another favorite passage appears:

"Their eyes meet, and it’s a star in supernova, the Big Bang, the creation of the universe. Suddenly there are entire galaxies within her, constellations of loss and longing and joy that crystallize under his eyes, shooting to the surface of her skin and attempting to take flight from her body.

A splintered star, Madame Arnaud had called her. A splintered star, looking for its lost fragments.

But to look at a star is to see it burned out, to stare at its ghost as the lightyears of distance trick the eye, and this, too, is true as she look at James; she doesn’t just see him, but the ghost of who he was, the mirror image of him forged from a life of war and magic, one they shared together, a stellar collision in a different cosmos."

yeah I had the two bracketing paragraphs written before I even wrote the Madame Arnaud scene, so then when I realized I'd written a star metaphor, I was like...oh dope! some continuity? as a treat?

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this moment:

"“You—you left me,” she chokes as this misplaced grief swallows her, bites her in half and leaves her in sawtooth parts. “You didn’t—you didn’t have your wand, James—” (somehow, she knows he’d left it in their bedroom, even without remembering where her own wand had been that night) “—and you—I had to—why did you leave me—”

James reaches for her arms, and she nearly jerks back from his touch, but she hates the distance between them—because, really, isn’t that what this is all about?—so she lets him pull her forward until his face meets her neck, mouthing apologies into her skin."

was also really vital for me. is it logical for her to be mad at him? absolutely not. but she's just been bulldozed by every possible human emotion ever, the biggest of which is grief, so I wanted their first moments to be messy and angry and sad, because I feel like the people we love most are the people we can share those vulnerable moments with without fear of reprisal.

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THEEE Oops Baby is coming!

I didn't actually think I was going to include this originally, I imagined the end of it being the Halloween reunion and then maybe tacking on an epilogue on Tumblr or something, but I came to the conclusion that I couldn't mention Harry and have him be such a vital part of the story without resolving his arc, too.

does that mean that there might be a real-world Weasley troupe and Granger family out there? POSSIBLY. who knows! I wanted to leave his future up to interpretation, with the only real stipulation being: he's going to have a happy and healthy life with his very alive young parents! because I said so!

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"When they tell Sirius and Remus, something passes through the two men’s faces—something cloudy and distant, like they’re peeking behind a curtain that only they can see, and in it is some collection of wonders, some world appearing only to them."

anyone catch this moment? I debated it for a WHIIIIILE. but I wanted to give a nod to the fact that the lost souls from the HP canon weren't just Jily, but instead, all of the people lost too young who deserved so much better. Especially those fated to meet, like The Marauders.

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a final few favorite passages that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside:

"“He’ll be here soon,” James murmurs, more to himself than her. “Not long now.”

Lily looks at him, watches as he traces a fingertip over the soft swell of her belly. Something warm and gentle settles in her chest. It stretches out and loosens its limbs, pressing golden handprints into the space between her lungs and painting murals of sunlight along her ribs.

“Do you hear that, Harry?” She whispers. “Your mum and dad have been waiting for you.”"

and

"James leans up and presses a kiss to her abdomen. “We’ll do it right this time,” he says softly, to her or to Harry or both—she can’t be sure. “We’ll get more time.”

Yes, Lily thinks, they will. She looks up through the bedroom window. The London lights are dimmer than usual tonight, and above them, the sky is twinkling with stars."

YEAH THEY WILL. BECAUSE I SAID SO.

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I guess the last thing I'll say here is that so much of the premise of this fic came from something a therapist said to me two years ago lmao - which is that trauma is often categorized as 'non-realization'; either the non-realization that an event is happening, or the non-realization that the event has happened, and that it's over, and that you're no longer in it.

this entire piece kind of felt like me exorcising the trauma of Jily's lives out of their bodies. it became super healing to allow them to work through this stuff by getting a second chance but still acknowledging their past life.

so! that seems like a healthy way to deal with fictional characters! ha ha!

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