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Chapter Update: Day Two

Sparks fly and a mystery unfolds when an unfortunate miscommunication strands James Potter and Lily Evans at the same tiny holiday cottage.

M-rated // Muggle AU

I wrote the first chapter of this little fic as part of the @jilymicrofics Valentine's Exchange back in (shock!) February, for the lovely @abihastastybeans, and it's taken until now for me to finish chapter 2! Obviously I needed a record-breaking heatwave to get me to write about Jily in the snow😂. And it probably goes without saying that it is very much a @jilymicro-oops!

Anyway, if you're also somewhere currently melting, maybe this will help to cool you down?

Snippet under the cut, or read on AO3!

a corner of the common room

by allrightevanss1123 on ao3

“— and you know what?”

“Tell me about it.”

“You already had a chance once— and you totally wasted it!”

Lily reached out and took another sip from the glass in front of her. Her head was spinning; she was certain that if she finished her glass, she would experience temporary (at least, she hoped it would be temporary) blindness in her left eye. Maybe filling her glass to the brim with firewhisky hadn't been a good idea. But she hadn't been able to enjoy firewhisky properly ever since two months ago, when the cauldron she had used for six and a half years suddenly cracked in the middle of a potions class and ruined all her financial planning. When she ignored the fact that James Potter himself financed all the drinks at Gryffindor parties, nothing else could match the taste of the drinks she had—which didn't cost her a single penny.

​“What do you mean?” Potter laughed. He was trying to act as if nothing was wrong — but his cheeks, too, were flushed bright red, and his eyes were dreamy, as if he had just woken up from sleep. For the past half hour, he had been taking small sips from the same whisky, which at the very beginning had been poured only two fingers thick, trying to swirl and mix the drink inside the glass as if that would lessen its effect. “Wait— Evans, what do you mean I had a chance.”

​"Whatever you understood by it," she grumbled, taking another sip. If Potter were to take a sip as large as hers, he would have already finished his entire glass in one go. Whenever she witnessed men’s, but especially James Potter’s, intolerance to alcohol, she felt a pressure rising from her chest, and her lips stretched into a smirk. James Potter was a head taller than Lily, his arms thick enough to cause his shirt to tighten around his biceps, his shoulders broad enough that if Lily were to be picked up and placed there, they wouldn't collapse under the weight of her legs. Right.

​It wasn't that Lily was thinking about his shoulders, but despite all of that, she found it funny that throughout the entire night, he hadn't even consumed as much drink as she had downed within the first hour. The fact that his cheeks were flushed, that he had started blinking his eyes frequently as if trying to show off to Lily with his long eyelashes, that the smirk he had spent the whole day glued to his face had already turned into a relaxed, almost sappy smile, that ten minutes ago he had lost his posture and started sitting hunched over… Him having an answer for everything Lily said.

Having an answer for everything Lily said?

“Sorry— what?”

“Don’t say sorry, tell me when it was and what exactly happened?” ​When Potter leaned a bit closer to her, his aftershave tickled Lily's nose, but it couldn't be said that she was complaining.

​She blinked while looking at Potter. Even before she could find the willpower in herself to realize what was coming out of her mouth, she said, “When we were little.” She took another sip from her drink. “Like, when we were absolute infants. Second year, the beginning— probably. You see, I was actually quite fond of you, when you played your first Quidditch match. I like the hair ruffling quite a lot, wrote you—” Lily’s tongue wasn’t moving inside her mouth exactly the way she wanted it to, and as she tried to speak, saliva was pooling in her mouth. Swallowing with difficulty while trying not to giggle at Potter’s wide, astonished eyes, she finished, “a bloody love letter— then burned it with my wand because you also annoyed me soo much too.”

​“So—” said Potter, speaking slower than usual. This was bad for their image—both heads being drunk at the same time. “You fancied me? Back then, did you?”

​Lily shook her head, but within a second decided never to do that again—shaking her head made it feel as though her brain had suddenly shrunk and was crashing against the walls of her skull with every movement. “But it’s not that big of a deal,” she muttered. She hoped she would still remember the scent she caught as she breathed in and out when she woke up sober in the morning—because Potter actually smelled good, and Lily wanted to know exactly what it was that smelled so good. To tell her father. Wizards used different ingredients in their perfumes; Lily wanted to know, no matter whose perfume it was. “It’s not surprising for a 12-year-old girl to start liking the first boy doing cool moves on a broom— also you’ve always been decent looking, hair helps it too.”

Potter narrowed his eyes. “You like my hair?”

“Well, my dad is bald— so—” she tried to take another sip from her glass but didn't find what she was looking for. It was empty—and she had already finished the bottle she had brought over to this corner of the common room. Her eyes caught on Potter’s glass, on the single sip of drink left inside it, and on how small the glass looked in Potter’s hand.

“Jesus— your hand is fucking huge.” she muttered; her actual intention when opening her mouth was to ask for a sip of his drink and chug it, but the expression on Potter’s face was funny enough to prevent any regret she might feel. “No wonder you got the Quidditch cup twice, back to back— could you also grab a Quaffle like that?”

​Potter suddenly looked at her face, his eyes fixed on Lily’s eyes—and started giggling. As he laughed, his chest shook with his giggles, and he threw his head back— oh and he had an Adam’s apple, yeah. “You think so?” he said, holding his hand that wasn't holding the glass between the two of them as if it were something to be examined. “I’m not sure it’s really that big, though, you want to compare hand sizes?”

“Ew— no— I don’t want to touch it. I saw you rubbing Sirius’s calves earlier.”

​“Okay— okay— don’t touch it,” Potter said immediately. “Just— let’s keep it side by side, alright? Then, you can see if it’s really big at all.” He gripped the couch cushion Lily was sitting on and, in a single motion, pulled it next to him until their shoulders began to touch. His skin was warm even beneath their robes, and his shoulders looked even broader from this close. Despite Potter’s tall height, if he were to slouch a bit in his seat and pull his knees toward himself, they were at just the right height for her to rest her head on them.

Instead, Lily leaned her head against the wall behind her. Leaving the glass in her hand aside, she tilted her head slightly toward Potter's hand, closing and opening her fingers once before bringing her hand next to his.

​Lily wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting, but seeing both of their hands side by side surprised her nonetheless. Potter’s hand really was big too. On Potter’s long, calloused fingers, there were a few rednesses left over from the match, and a thin bandage wrapped around one of the knuckles on his pinky. The length of Lily’s entire hand was only a little longer than Potter’s pinky—all of Potter’s fingers were twice as thick as Lily’s. Lily swallowed once more.

It was strange, actually, because she hadn't spoken—but before she could even question what was happening again, the top of her tongue filled up with a mouthful of saliva once more.

​And then, along with all the drinks she had consumed up until now—which, if she exaggerated the proportions a bit, could even amount to two bottles—she vomited everything she had eaten at dinner right onto their hands hovering side by side.

or

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@jilymicro-oops | WC: 2,045 | Jily microfic prompt: May 2026 #3 Suspect

Part 1 - 30 October 1978

‘He’s alive, Carl. … just… where can I—?’

Caradoc Dearborn sounded so distant. But that couldn’t be right. James could smell him. Hear his breath. Feel his chest heave.

Everything was spinning. James blinked, but all he could see were shadows. His leg burned with blinding, nauseating pain every time Caradoc shifted his grip. Below his knee, something felt horribly wrong.

‘Put him here,’ came Carl Potter’s reply. ‘What happened?’

James became dimly aware of being lowered onto something soft. The movement sent another bolt of agony through him and he cried out in pain.

‘Car!?’ Carl’s voice was tight. 

‘A blasting curse,’ replied Caradoc breathlessly. ‘Lucky it’s just his leg. — Christ, mate, I’ve got him.’

Panic cut through the fog in his head. The explosion. His leg. Was it still attached? 

The Apothecary’s Assistant

A Christmas fic written for @jilymicrofics (@jilymicro-oops) Prompt: Fake Dating Word Count: 2348

Chapter 28: All I Want For Christmas is Us

It was at the very start of the morning—when the shop lamps were only just being lit and the kettle had not yet finished its first boil—that Sirius announced he would be rejoining Remus and Peter on their travels.

“Leaving already?” James frowned at him, genuine disappointment written plainly across his face. “I thought you meant to stay until the New Year began.”

“Oh, I am quite full of holiday cheer and entirely too much pudding,” Sirius replied airily. “But before I depart, I should like to bestow one final gift.”

“You are far too generous, Padfoot,” James said warily.

“Do not thank me yet,” Sirius cautioned, grinning. “I suspect you will not be overly fond of this gift in the short term—though I am convinced it will yield excellent results in the long run.”

James narrowed his eyes. “And what sort of gift might that be?”

“I intend to ask Miss Evans on a date,” Sirius said brightly. “A farewell engagement, you understand. A final flourish before I return to my whirlwind life of international debauchery.”

James felt as though the floor had vanished beneath him. The room seemed to tilt, and for a dreadful moment he was quite certain he was plummeting headfirst into a dragon’s den, pelted by enchanted beater bats on his nauseating descent.

Chapter 24 is up! begin || chapter 24 @jilymicro-oops

Don't Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)

A Jily @jilymicro-oops, for the microfics prompt - "Gryffindor" (Dec. 14) 1,865 words.

“Evans,” James answers. He starts to stand, only to hesitate and settle back down when Lily—a glint of resolve lighting her features—strides forward to sit down beside him on the window seat. She grips the edge of the seat with her hand just like James does, close enough for their knuckles to brush ever so slightly together.

@jilymicro-oops March 2025 Prompt # 6: Spasm. WC: 1696

Around lunch time Lily and James left their friends, and split up to patrol the corridors of the Hogwarts Express. That was how she ran into Severus. She had not seen him all summer, as he’d spent quite a fair bit of it away from home. As had she, at least according to her parents, who reminded her they only got to see her during the holiday: ‘and now we barely get that.’

But six years away from her muggle parents had made it hard for Lily to find ways to enjoy her time with them. Petunia had dominated the kitchen as long as she’d lived at home, and made such a show of it that Lily found no pleasure in cooking with her mother nowadays. 

Her dad was a difficult conversation partner. Though proud of her accomplishments, he often shared remarks such as: ‘they let women do that?’, ‘what a world you live in Lily-flower!’ and ‘I guess things are just different for magic folks.’ Never in ill spirit, but always serving as a reminder that yes, things were different. Lily’s standing in the wizarding world might be negatively affected by her blood status, but being home reminded her that in the muggle world, she would have had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously because she had committed the dreadful sin of being born a woman. 

She loved them, dearly, but when her friends invited her to visit them across the United Kingdom and Ireland, it had been hard to say no. It was never her intention to hurt her parents, but she was no longer the Lily Evans they’d seen off to Hogwarts when she was eleven.  

‘You’re Head Girl,’ her former best friend observed quietly, his black eyes fixed on the badge as if he didn’t dare to meet her eyes. Too bloody right.

‘I am.’

He was taller now, thinner and more sallow-looking than ever. His hair greasy and falling like a curtain, framing his gaunt face. As was her habit, she scanned his features for any bruises. She’d never found any. Whether because Tobias Snape in fact did draw the line at abusing his son physically or because Eliene Snape used magic to heal them, she didn’t know, but at a guess, she feared the latter. Although by now, Mr Snape might find his son a force to be reckoned with. In fact, maybe the real question was in what shape Severus' father was in, now his son could defend himself with magic.

It’s none of your business, Lily reminded herself sternly. He chose his way. 

As if to remind her of this, Severus continued: ‘So Albus Dungsforheads has managed to get one thing right.’

‘He made the right decisions this year,’ agreed Lily, having spotted a familiar figure approaching them. 

James was frowning, having recognised the back of Severus’ head. When their eyes met for a second, Lily shook her head just a fraction. I am fine.

She knew it wouldn’t stop him from coming over but that was not a problem. Indeed, she wanted him to. The shake was more to prevent him from jumping on her former best friend, which was otherwise his habit.

‘All good?’ asked James, his eyes narrowing. 

Severus spun around so quickly he nearly lost his balance, raising his wand as he did so.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ 

James’ eyebrows travelled up his forehead. Lily noticed how his fingers twitched but so far he had refrained from drawing his own wand. 

‘Hexing the Head Boy is considered quite poor form,’ agreed Lily, who sidestepped Severus, choosing to stand next to James so she could take in the view. 

Severus looked thunderstruck, and a little mad. His eyes were bulging dangerously, his face livid, his mouth falling open before he closed it so firmly that his jaw appeared at risk of breaking.

‘Y-y-you!’ He hissed when he finally managed to unclench his jaw long enough to say the word.

‘Me,’ agreed James and for a moment Lily thought they weren’t speaking about the Head Boy appointment.

‘When are you going to learn, Snivellus, that being an ugly, evil, little git is never going to pay off?’

James’ eyes flashed just as angrily. Yet the fury exuded justice; or rather righteousness. It was the same anger they’d both felt when Wilkes objected to their—hers, really—appointment. The sort of fire that would guide James into a war, and hopefully see him through it.

Still, this situation could escalate easily, and Lily had no desire to ruin such a perfect moment. This served her former best friend right. A reminder that change was possible; that good would triumph; that he had chosen wrong when he decided a murdering blood-supremacist was the right man to follow and not Albus Dumbledore. 

‘Come,’ she told James. Delicious courage found her in that moment and she took his hand, dragging him down the corridor towards their friends compartment.

She glanced behind once, to make sure Severus didn’t hex James. He was standing there, still staring after them, as if petrified. Sadness threatened to overcome her for the briefest of seconds. Maybe she also wanted to show him that she would always forgive him, but not before she saw change. 

James hadn’t promised anything by the lake; nor in the succeeding months. Over time, however, he had matured; changed; grown into the man who walked next to her, impossibly handsome and so frightfully, impressively good. 

They’d never talked about it. They probably never would. Lily had long since lost her faith in words. Action was what mattered. She didn’t need to know whether he was sorry or not. He probably didn’t know the answer to that himself. What she needed—what he’d given her; whether intentionally or not—was proof that he was capable of fuelling his energy towards justice. That he was capable of listening to her; of accepting influence; and that he possessed the ability to change. 

To her immense relief, growing up hadn’t altered the best bits about him. James was still James. He remained funny, confident and optimistic. Still handsome and full of mischief, yet gentle when he wanted to, and loyal and trusting. There was so much love in him, which he shared with those around him. 

Shit, she wanted him. She wanted to be more than a stupid friend. She wanted James to be hers. To hold his hand and lie in his arms and hear him announce to the world: ‘that’s my girlfriend.’ Lily wanted to be his, and his alone.

They passed an empty compartment and before Lily could second-guess herself she slid the door open and pushed him inside.

‘Lily — wha—?’

Lips met as she practically jumped into his arms, and though catching him by surprise, his hands came around her and he kissed her back in a way that left no room for doubt. He pulled her closer, his lips parted and their tongues caressed one another.

A moan spilled from her lips, still plastered to his, before a split second later a muffled, hungry groan escaped him. 

‘Lily,’ he murmured the moment they pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together. 

But it was impossible, feeling his warm body against hers, and not kiss him, now that she knew he wanted it too. Knew that he wanted her. 

They both leaned in once more, as if kissing was the only way to breathe. 

‘We should — probably — talk —‘ James’ words were punctuated by his kisses as if he, too, could not bear for their lips to be parted for long. 

‘Fuck, Lily —‘ he stammered as she pulled herself free to kiss his Adam’s apple. ‘Shit — I…’

His breath hitched. Lily felt dizzy. James Potter was crumbling before her eyes, melting into something soft and tender and needy. Desperate for her.

‘I have wanted to kiss you for some time,’ murmured Lily, trying to get a grip. They should talk.

‘You’ve no idea,’ replied James breathlessly, his eyes impossibly gentle and bright and full of something that made her stomach fill with a thousand happy butterflies. 

He tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

‘Lily, I —‘

Suddenly, James stiffened. Then he swore.

Lily turned her head. 

Dear God. 

The compartment opposite was full of a group of students that looked about eleven years old. Some were staring wide-eyed at them, others looked away. 

They all had bright red faces. 

‘So what happens now?’ asked Lily after what felt like an eternity, numb with shame. ‘Do we give ourselves detention?’

‘There’s no rule against snogging someone, even if it… erm… might traumatise a bunch of first years. Especially, I think, if it wasn’t some random hook-up.’

‘Oh really?’ Lily turned her attention back to James, whose cheeks were as flushed as the young students.

‘Yeah,’ nodded James, his voice a little shaky. ‘Say a bloke wanted to kiss… his girlfriend… that’s hardly criminal?’

‘Depends on the girlfriend,’ Lily replied, her brain scrambling to keep up. 

Things were moving very quickly, but then it had moved so dreadfully slow for too long. And wasn’t the perk of being with James Potter the way he never did things half-way? Life was for living in her friend’s—her boyfriend’s?—eyes; fully and unapologetically.

‘This one is very hot… Fierce… Clever… Kind… Brave—‘

‘James, stop.’ James had yet again punctuated each word with a kiss. ‘They are still watching us!’

‘True,’ he grinned, freeing himself from Lily. He walked over and pulled the curtain down. 

‘That’s hardly better,’ groaned Lily. ‘They still know…!’

James cocked his head, a crocket, arrogant, stupidly sexy smile spreading across his lips. ‘Alright, we stop.’

‘As if.’ 

Walking over to him, she pushed him down on a seat before she straddled him, grateful she still hadn’t changed out of her muggle trousers. 

She let her fingers run through his hair, taking in how his eyes closed and his body seemed to relax and tense all at once. Taking off his glasses, she tossed them aside, and then leaned in to kiss him. 

‘You see, the boyfriend’s not too bad either,’ she murmured against his lips. 

@jilymicro-oops March 2025 Prompt # 3: Rage. WC: 1048

The train had carried them out of London by the time all the prefects had congregated in the compartment. Punctuality might be a challenge going forward, noted James. Though he had a certain degree of sympathy. It was hardly easy to move down the narrow corridor after the summer break, with everyone wanting to catch up—and, for the newly appointed prefects, congratulate them on the appointment.

‘This is a joke,’ sneered Johanne Wilkes, staring daggers at Lily. 

‘Don’t be thick,’ snapped Barty Crouch, who had been staring blankly out the window since James and Lily had found him in the compartment. Well, no surprise in Crouch being early. Crouch Senior’s reputation preceded not only the man; it set a precedent anyone bearing his name was expected to follow.

‘The Head Boy and Girl appointments follow a strict process and require the approval of all four Heads of House,’ recited Regulus Black faithfully. James had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. What a prat.

Still, he supposed it was something that only Wilkes was… well, like Crouch had put it, thick enough to object aloud to the appointments. Or appointment. There was no doubt in James’s mind what she was really objecting to. What Crouch would find irksome and Regulus loathsome, even if they had the sense to play by their Headmaster’s rules.

James wished all the smug pureblood-loving Slytherin prefects had protested. Fingers itched to hex the bastards off this train. Not that they were all bad, Georgiana Selwyn had the grace to congratulate Lily and James, even though it was she and the other seventh-year prefects who’d lost out to their appointment.

The thing was, while Regulus had the social intelligence and respect for authority to fall in line when expected, James had no doubt he and some of his fellow Slytherins would take out their frustration. Not on Lily. No, they would find some first- or second-year Muggle-born students, like the pathetic bullies they were. Attack from the shadows. Never be caught. 

Crouch he was less sure about. A new entity, made prefect this year. The family had plenty of “wizarding pride” to be sure, but Crouch Senior was one of the most avid and forceful opponents of Lord Voldemort and his followers. The son might not be an ally, but he was not a foe either. 

That was usually the best one could hope for from Slytherin. Like Gareth Greengrass. Not a bad bloke, but no backbone to stand up to the likes of Mulciber and Avery. Great fucking use that was to Hogwarts. As far as James was concerned the school was better off without the members of that house. 

Fuck, he hated them. All of them. Slytherin scum, the lot.

Go on, he wished, challenge us. A muggle-born Head Girl. You loathe it. Makes your precious blood boil, doesn’t it?

James looked over at Lily. Her anger was as palpable as his. Maybe not to the other students—they didn’t know her the way he did—but six years in her company had taught him to read her well. Her almond-shaped emerald eyes had gone sharp and focused, narrowed just a fraction. Her chin was lifted that tiny degree she reserved for moments when she chose dignity and restraint over hexing someone. Which meant her thoughts had wandered to the same dark places his had. He was sure of it.

Their eyes met. A moment later, their shoulders relaxed a little. A small, albeit sad, smile played on her lips, and her eyes softened. 

It was in that moment James realised they didn’t need everyone on their side in this war. What they needed—what he had—was the right people. 

The right person.

He gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to the Slytherin corner: 

‘Thank you, Black.’ For being a sycophantic two-faced, spineless little creature. ‘Wilkes, if you have an issue with the appointments you’re more than welcome to file a complaint with the Headmaster—or you can ask the advice from your Head of House. I’m sure Slughorn would be interested in your thoughts on his favourite student being made Head Girl. It is only fair, I suppose, to warn you that while my standing with Slughorn is not as strong as Evans—no one’s is, mind—he is a good friend of my family, and I believe quite fond of me.’

Pulling your own pureblood card, are you? 

All is fair in love and war, though, James was quick to defend against himself. 

This was war. Outside the castle walls people were being killed. As for love, James glanced over at Lily again, noticing how amusement flickered in her otherwise now stony face. His insides twisted with guilt and sympathy, but also victory. He’d done that: he’d made her look faintly entertained even in this rather dark and nerve-wracking situation. She hadn’t minded that he used what he had, even something as stupid as blood, as long as he used it for good.

‘Anyone else has anything stupid to waste our time with, or can we get started on the important matters?’ 

Lily commanded the attention of the entire compartment as she stepped forward, straight-backed, eyes flashing dangerously. A minute passed in awkward, shameful silence before her face broke into a kind smile: 

‘Well then. Welcome back to all. I hope you’ve had a nice summer.’ A few nervous nods and quiet hums of agreement followed this. ‘Firstly, James and I wanted to extend our warmest congratulations to our newly made prefects.’

If she had the attention of the prefects, that was nothing to the hold she had on James. He could feel it grow every moment he watched her, every minute he listened to her speak, every breath he took in her presence. There was no way he would survive this year. Not like this.

His heart ached with longing for the girl next to him, and it drove him mad that he did not know how to approach her, to confess his feelings, without risking ruining everything. Yet, he would surely explode if he didn’t do something. No body could safely contain such emotions, he was sure.

chapter 4 - James' nightmare

@jilymicro-oops - Bioshock november prompt: needle | wordcount: 1056

summary:

chapter 3

@jilymicro-oops - bioshock november 'industry' - wordcount: 1120

chapter 4 for @jilymicro-oops - wordcount: 1033; prompt: 'Offering' from fable february!

snippet:

It was the class Lily had most been looking forward to all term. She had been humming with excitement ever since Professor Dearborn announced they would be covering patronus charms as part of their N.E.W.T curriculum. Hours had been spent trawling the library shelves for materials on the subject, from how to hone in on your best memories to possible interpretations of corporal materialisations. She had daydreamed about successfully casting and watching a penguin waddle and slide around the classroom on its belly. Anything and everything she could get her hands on, she had because she knew it was one of the hardest spells to master. Even many fully grown wizards and witches couldn’t accomplish it.

Which is precisely why she had to. It was the ultimate way of throwing back in Goyle’s face that she was more than worthy of her place not only as student of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardy, but of the wizarding world as a whole. Who could argue that if she was capable of such advanced magic on top of her prowess for potions? It would be undeniable.

It made her inability to even summon a wisp of charm vapour that much more devastating. Four lessons in, and she was starting to panic. The only other student who hadn’t accomplished something was Peter Pettigrew, who while book smart, often fell short of proper application. She gazed anxiously across the room where Severus Snape had managed to create a vortex of milky substance with his wand, one of the strongest among them. Beaten only of course by Potter and Black, who seemed to have mastered the spell with ease in only their second lesson. Their corporeal dog and stag had pranced around the room together several times, much to her utter dismay. Dearborn had now assigned them the task of attempting the spell non-verbally, which had proved to be more of a challenge worthy of them, but was also quickly overcome.

“Breathe, Evans,” Potter whispered, breath tickling her ear. He took gentle hold of her wand hand in his, mimicking the flourish of the spell. “You’re over thinking it. It’s an extension of you, you have to let it flow.”

Easy enough for him to say. He had nothing to prove. His path, no matter which he chose after Hogwarts, would already be paved in neat cobblestone. While she would have to carve hers with her bare hands in the earth.

Lily stiffened, drawing herself tall, shoulders down and back. She flicked her wand again and enunciated clearly. “Expecto Patronum!”

A pathetic puff appeared and vanished as quickly as it came.

“Your memory isn’t happy enough. You need something better, something stronger.” James encouraged. “Close your eyes. Picture something or somewhere that makes your whole body tingle and feel warm all over. Something that you can’t help but smile at.”

His hand travelled up the curve of her wrist, the length of her arm to her shoulder blade, kneading at the knot that had formed there. Her skin felt hot and prickly, both from his caress and the humility of her failure.

“Hey. Stop it. Winding yourself up is counterproductive. This spell takes patience and time.” “Says the guy who mastered it in two classes,” she huffed irritably.

“Yeah, but only because I’d been practising with my dad all summer,” he reasoned. “Watch.”

James took a step back and seamlessly flicked his wrist without so much as whispering the incantation, a regal stag erupted from the tip of his wand. It was a magnificent creature sporting a rack of antlers that would send a hunter drooling at the prospect of mounting them on a wall. It strutted to the end of the classroom.

“I think of the forest,” James was whispering again. “The feel of the sun on my back through the trees, the crunch beneath my feet, and the breeze ruffling my hair.”

His answer was unexpected. She thought he would have picked something more along the lines of flying, securing the quidditch cup and being paraded about on the shoulders of his team mates. Something so simple and tame didn’t seem possible of producing something so intricate. Then again, stags were the kings of the forest in folklore.

Perhaps she was drawing on the wrong thing. Her memory needed to be more akin to her penguin persona. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, focusing in on her memory. She was seven, or maybe eight. It had snowed at Christmas. The cold was biting, but it lay thick and fluffy in the garden. Her and Petunia had made snow angels, arms wide and giggling. Petunia’s laugh was still ringing in her ears as she cast.

“Expecto Patronum!” She opened her eyes and watched a streak of cloud leave her wand and evaporate.

James clapped her on the back. “See there you go! You’re getting there, try again.”

His palm slid slowly down to the small of her back. Leaving a trail of heated skin beneath. Her heart raced, stomach a flutter. It made no sense how she warmed under his praise.

She thought back to her very first flying lesson. The way her legs had wobbled before she kicked off the ground hard, sky rocketing several feet. “Atta girl, Evans!” Potter had cheered, putting his fingers in his mouth and giving her a triumphant whistle. The adrenaline rush of it, fight or flight. The way he had stared up at her from the ground not just with awe but with reverence.

That was what stuck in her mind as she cast. The cloud from her wand grew and formed shape. Her stomach somersaulted as it transformed into something conceivable, except this was no penguin. It had four long legs and a short swishing tail. A beautiful, dainty doe. It’s large eyes blinking, head turned high and searching. It approached James’ stag, coming so close they were almost touching nose to nose before both vanished into thin air.

“Well done, Miss Evans!” Dearborn boomed.

Snape looked like he wanted to be sick.

There had been many perks to creating their marauders map. It had granted greater freedom to explore the castle without fear of running into Filch the caretaker, prefects on patrol and teachers unexpectedly out after dark - they never had managed to work out where Professor Dumbledore disappeared to on the seventh floor. But it was not without its downsides, mainly for James, who had started to discreetly use the map to ease his latest vice. AKA his obsession with the comings and goings of one undeniable crush, Lily Evans, when she slipped from the common room and into the corridor. It was not stalking. He was just concerned for her welfare. After all, look at what had happened to poor Mary Macdonald, and she’d not even been outside of curfew when walking back from the library. 

Not to say he didn’t think Lily was a capable witch. The amount of jinxes she had flung his way over the years had certainly seen to that. It was just the idea of her being alone set him on edge. He wouldn’t watch her incessantly. Just whenever he spotted her going off without the company of at least one of the other gryffindor girls, and only to scan the corridor ahead to be certain she wasn’t about to run into trouble. She avoided the dungeons these days which was a small blessing - less likely to bump into a slimy Slytherin that way. At least that was the case, until he started to notice a pattern. 

While it wasn’t the dungeons, it was just as odd. The state in which she returned to the common room did not help in the slightest with his wild imagination. Cheeks rosy, hair tussled, shirt rumpled and coming untucked from her skirt. It was invasive, granted, but he just had to know who it was, who she was willing to risk everything for.

Three nights this week alone, Lily had ended up on the seventh floor near the west tower. Of all the names that could have appeared alongside hers for over forty minutes at a time, he never would have picked this one. 

“You expecting anyone?” he asks, annoyed to find he very much doesn’t want to hear she might be.

“No,” she says, glancing at her watch. It is late, too late for spontaneous visitors; he should have realised it too.

There’s a knock at the door, and they can hear a man’s voice through the window. “I know you’re home, Lily. Come on.”

He’d noticed earlier she looked a little pale, but now her face drains of all colour. “Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbles, and when she looks at him, her eyes are full of panic. “Fuck. You can’t be here.”

“Lily. I know you’re home. Your car is here, I hear that stupid dog. Just let me in. I just want to talk.”

She’s shaking her head, Gus is barking madly now, the sound unnerves him, even more so when he realises she’s now shaking all over.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” he asks.

“No,” she answers, too quickly for his liking. “No, he can’t know you’re here.” She breathes deeply and then turns to him. “You stay here. Don’t make a sound, don’t show yourself. Whatever you do, stay out of this, I’m serious.” He must look doubtful because she narrows her eyes at him and puts a finger on his chest. “I mean it. If you don’t, I’ll lose my job. Don’t mess this up for me.”

She turns and leaves him in the room. Gus seems to have caught on, so he closes the door before the dog can wriggle his way through. Gus whines and looks at him, eyes pleading for him to let him through.

“What do you want Snape?” he hears and now it’s James’s turn to freeze. He nearly forgets she told him to stay out of sight. What is that slimy, good for nothing, excuse of a man doing here. At least she doesn’t sound happy about his visit, it’s a silver lining he clings to.

“Lily, it’s me. You can release the chain and let me in.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I don’t want to talk to you, I want you to leave.”

James finds he has gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles are going white.

“I just want to talk, Lily. Why are you being like this. I can help you with your problem.”

White hot anger flows through James at the realisation that somehow Snape, of all people, knows about Lily…He very nearly turns the handle and it’s only the fact that Gus picks that moment to begin barking again that he comes to his senses.

“I haven’t wanted your help for a long time, Severus.” Lily answers with a sharp edge to her tone. “And I sure as hell don’t want or need your help. I still can’t believe you invaded my privacy like you have. I should go to the police, get a restraining order and sue you for that.” James’s mouth falls open and again he hardly holds himself together. The urge to go out there and just hit something, preferably Snape’s face, is overwhelming.

“But I don’t want to waste my energy on you, not anymore. Just leave,” Lily says and James holds his breath. He’s sure she’s about to close the door on Snape, she’ll be back here in a second. He’s got to move away.

There’s no sound of a door closing though, and instead he hears a frustrated cry that has him completely on edge.

“Lily, you don’t mean that. Don’t close the door on me. I can help you. I’ll explain if you’ll let me inside.”

“No! Go away.” The sound of someone falling against the door has Gus barking again.

“Look, Riddle asked me to come here to offer you a job. He assured me his connections in the Royal College will clear your license in a heartbeat.”

“You’re insane if you think I’ll ever work for him.”

“You’d be able to do so much there. If only you could see it. At least hear me out about your passport. There’s a way to get it sorted, quicker than what you’re doing now.”

At this James lets out a surprised sound. Thankfully Gus is still scratching the door, making frustrated noises and occasionally barking.

“If we get married, you’d get citizenship, effective immediately. No ten month or whatever waiting period.”

There’s the sound of incredulous laughter, and for a second James thinks it comes out of his own mouth, but it’s not. Lily is laughing. Maybe she’s not really laughing, it sounds more hysterical than any laughter ought to.

“Okay, that’s it. You can’t have anything more to say to me. I’m not interested in your schemes. I will never work for Riddle, I sure as hell will never marry you. I’d rather go back to the US until I’ve sorted things with the Home office.”

Snape says something that James can’t hear.

There’s a long silence. James wishes he could see what the hell is going on in the hallway. Gus is uncharacteristically silent too, though his ears are pointed forward and his tail is tense.

“Riddle has what?” He finally hears, but there’s something wrong with Lily’s voice. Even if he doesn’t know her well, he’s sure of it.

“Fuck…you.” She is breathing heavily now and it’s impossible to just stand here and do nothing. He’s ready to kill someone.

With a cry that makes him jump, and has Gus barking loudly again, Lily must have finally managed to close the door. He remains where he is, not sure what to do. He knows none of what he just overheard is meant for him. He shouldn’t have listened, but how could he have not heard any of it? He waits for her to return, but even after there’s been a few loud knocks on the door, the sound of gravel crunching and a car driving off, she still hasn’t come back out of her hallway.

Gus is sitting now, staring at the door, tail wagging slowly, and James feels as insecure as him when he finally opens the door.