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a canon-compliant fic takes place at the end of their fifth year, just a few weeks before Snape's Worst Memory. A week of spending a few hours alone together every day — well, just to make the ending a bit worse.
summary:
Lily, as the respectable Gryffindor Prefect, had to mentor James Potter in the Hospital Wing for a week because Remus’ ‘sick week’ and Potter’s quidditch accident overlapped together.
or
James cracked tf outta his skull and heard LETSSS FUCKING GOOOO
OR
How much 'mentoring' would it take for two soulmates to realize that maybe their relationship doesn't need to consist of unrequited fantasies or continuous annoyance rituals? Mentoring James Potter will be the first time Lily Evans spends more than five minutes alone with him—without fifteen classmates muffling the sounds of Potter's relentless pursuit and Lily's biting answers.
Who knows whether one week is enough? Not James Potter — though he certainly hopes so.
6.896 words, chapter 1, Rated M
POV Lily Evans Potter, Forced Proximity, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Quidditch Accidents, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Hogwarts Prefect Lily Evans Potter, Quiddith Captain James Potter, Idiots in Love, Academic Rivals, Romantic Fluff, Flirting, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Intimacy, POV Third Person Limited, Lily Evans Potter-centric
Chapter 1 | sunday
Lily never really liked quidditch much.
She tried not to vocalize it too often, as she knew it fit the Muggle-born stereotype a little too perfectly, but whenever she had to stand in the high stands of Hogwarts’ massive Quidditch pitch, she couldn't shake a sense of restless unease. Her eyes would drift over the idiots on the team—soaked to the bone by rain, tossed from side to side by the wind, struggling to maintain control of their body weight in the middle of a storm. Usually, she would pick one and watch them for the duration of the match.
Sometimes it was Macmillan from the Ravenclaw team, sometimes Abbott from the Hufflepuffs—players changed half the time, but usually, she only watched Marlene. Seeing her with a massive grin, steering her broom from one side to the other and carrying the Quaffle toward the opposing team’s hoops while performing mid-air somersaults... when she ignored the Bludgers that were intentionally trying to kill her, Quidditch seemed like a more peaceful experience, something closer to the football her father watched—fortunately, Lily didn’t like watching football either.
It was another one of those days. She involuntarily held her breath as she watched the sharp "O" shape Marlene’s Quidditch robes cut through the air, swirling as if she were underwater—passing in front of her at a speed that left nothing but a red blur for a moment. Marlene was going... way too fast. Her friend had always been rather reckless, far removed from the choices Lily would have made for her, but Marlene's sheer determination and her "recklessness quotient" regarding Quidditch still frightened Lily, even at the fifth year of their friendship.
Marlene, with the Quaffle tucked under her arm and a swarm of players in red and green robes trailing behind her, swept across the pitch—sketching a sharp arc as she approached the Slytherin Keeper, Rosier, like a storm, before tossing the Quaffle with an unexpected maneuver to a red figure that had suddenly appeared beside her.
The Slytherin side of the pitch was too far away for her to see exactly what happened, but even without a clear view, she could guess they had done something considerably impressive. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a better look, but Peter Pettigrew was already bellowing into the wand pressed to his throat about exactly what the Gryffindor team was doing. “Marlene McKinnon has it for— no, JAMES POTTER HAS THE QUAFFLE! Great move, brilliant! and— AND— oh merlin — GRYFFINDOR SCORES AGAIN! Gryffindor leads by ninety points to twenty now, and for the record — this is the fifth time Potter has managed to score so far, just brilliant!”
Ah, Potter.
Of course it was him.
The world would have shattered with the sudden change in power withholds if it weren't him.
Even her eyes drifted toward Potter at first, seeing him flung across the pitch with the joy of scoring for the fifth time. (...)
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Just as much as Jily is gentle love confession, they are angry love confessions - more specifically Lily making an angry love confession. And James returning one.
ALSO, A SHORT STORY BECAUSE JAMES POTTER IS A SIMP:
Lily Evans had developed a system.
Step one: refuse to engage.
Step two: if forced to engage, either because Potter and his idiot friends were tormenting poor Severus again, or because some professor with absolutely no sense of judgment decided she and Potter should work together, then speak as little as possible and glare at James Potter until he stopped grinning like an idiot.
(This did not work. He always looked like an idiot. Possibly even more so when she looked directly at him. Which suggested it might be better not to look at him at all.)
Step three: close all pockets. Charm her bag shut. Place sticking charms on the inside of her robe pockets so that nothing could slip inside.
It never worked.
Because somehow, the notes always ended up with her anyway.
Tucked between the pages of her Transfiguration textbook.
Inside the pocket of her robes.
Once, unbelievably, folded neatly inside the cap of her ink bottle.
Whatever spell or prank enchantment James Potter had come up with infuriated her beyond reason.
Because Lily was brilliant at Charms.
And if Potter had put even one percent of the effort he spent inventing ludicrous magical methods of annoying her into actual academic work, he would have been an actual academic threat.
“Potter!”
She snapped one afternoon after class, because a note was currently hovering around her head like a particularly persistent insect.
It zipped in circles like a little enchanted fly.
She swatted at it.
It dodged.
She swatted again.
It looped smugly around her ear.
Students in the corridor slowed down to watch.
Lily Evans, Head Girl material, academic terror, currently engaged in mortal combat with a piece of parchment.
Her red hair flashed like a struck match as she spun.
The note dipped.
Then shot straight up.
She jumped to grab it.
Missed.
From across the corridor: laughter.
Lily whirled and stalked across the corridor toward the four boys leaning against the wall like they owned the castle.
Potter straightened the moment he saw her.
His whole face brightened.
Messy dark hair.
Quidditch shoulders.
That infuriating expression like the world had once again handed him something delightful.
“Evans—”
“If you don't remove this right this instant,” she snapped, pointing furiously at the circling note, “I swear I will hex you into next week, Potter!”
The parchment continued orbiting her head like a tiny enchanted moon.
James glanced at it.
Then back at her.
And shrugged.
Entirely unapologetic.
Infuriatingly pleased with himself.
“Bit of a problem, that,” he said mildly. “Forgot the counterspell.”
Her eyes narrowed into lethal green slits.
“You forgot?”
“Might have,” he said thoughtfully.
Black immediately turned away and coughed violently into his sleeve.
Potter continued, perfectly serious.
“Think you’ll have to catch it and look inside, love.”
Her blood bubbled to a roiling boil.
Lily knew he had not forgotten the counterspell.
She knew it with absolute certainty.
But before she could throttle him in the middle of the corridor, with students already filtering toward the next class, she spun on her heel and stalked away.
The note followed her down the hall like a loyal pet bird.
Lily opened it anyway.
She shouldn't have.
But she did.
Inside, in James Potter’s messy, energetic handwriting:
my heart always does this little flip when i see you :)
Lily crumpled it instantly.
Shoved it into her robe pocket.
Forgot about it.
The next day there was another one with a new message.
And another.
She tried burning one.
It reappeared in her book bag.
She threw one into the lake.
It floated serenely for five seconds, then hopped neatly back onto the dock beside her like an obedient frog.
It was ridiculous.
It was infuriating.
Finally one evening in the common room, she snapped.
A note had just zipped into her Potions book.
She didn’t even read it. Didn’t look at it.
Her patience, long cultivated, carefully disciplined, was gone. She flipped the parchment over and wrote in sharp, furious ink:
I HATE YOU
Then she flicked her wand. The parchment shot across the room like a tiny missile.
James caught it midair.
Of course he did.
His hand snapped up with the effortless precision of a Seeker spotting the Snitch, fingers closing around the flying note.
He flipped it open. Looked down. Saw the words.
And James Potter lit up.
His eyes went wide behind his glasses.
His mouth fell open for half a second in stunned delight, and then he actually giggled.
A small, startled, disbelieving sound.
“Blimey,” Sirius said.
Remus leaned over James’s shoulder.
“What?”
James silently handed him the parchment.
Remus read it.
His eyebrows climbed up. “You know, she literally just told you she hates you, right?”
James stared at the note like it was the Quidditch Cup itself. Like he had just been handed the Snitch in the final seconds of a match.
“Yeah,” he said reverently.
Across the room Lily slammed her book shut with a crack that echoed across the common room.
“STOP LOOKING SO PLEASED WITH YOURSELF, POTTER!”
“I’m not!” he called immediately.
He absolutely was.
Completely.
Unrepentantly.
Radiantly.
“You ARE!”
“I’m deeply wounded actually!”
“You’re grinning!”
“That’s my wounded face!”
Sirius collapsed sideways against the sofa, laughing so hard he nearly fell off. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
James slipped the note into his pocket like it was fragile.
A week later Lily noticed something strange.
James Potter was wearing a necklace.
It wasn’t just that he was wearing jewelry, though that alone was odd enough. It was that it looked so absurdly out of place on him. The small gold chain with the heart-shaped locket resting against his throat looked very strange. She told herself that was the reason it kept catching her eye.
Lily caved during Potions.
Mostly because she was sitting at the front of the classroom with Remus while James and Sirius were banished to the back like dangerous experimental materials.
Professor Slughorn had clearly learned from experience.
She frowned.
Then leaned slightly toward Remus, who sat beside her quietly chopping lacewing flies with the patience of a saint.
Of all four boys, he was the only one who behaved like a human being. Quietly she murmured, without looking up:
“Why is he wearing that ridiculous thing?”
Remus glanced up from his cutting board.
“What thing?”
Lily bit her cheek. “The necklace.”
“Oh,” he said.
She pretended to concentrate on their potion. She did not say what she was actually thinking.
Which was:
Did some girl give it to him?
And, more annoyingly:
Why do I care?
She absolutely did not want Remus to notice that she cared. And she very much did not want James Potter to hear that she had asked.
Remus made a small, suspiciously amused noise.
Lily narrowed her eyes slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Lupin.”
He sighed softly.
“Evans,” he said gently, “if I tell you, you’ll be angry.”
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hi I’m looking for an older fic. It was on fanfiction.net I think. Lily and James are alive to raise Harry and Harry sees Cedric die during the Tri wizard Tournament and is left with emotional scars. I read it years ago but now I can’t find it
I would love to help you find it but I need a few more details (if you remember) like :
when was it published ?
Was it a short or long fic ?
Anything you know about the writer of the fic ?
Do you remember any of it's unique chapter name or the plot ?
