starling🫀

“Please pause while we take a short recess,” Lee Jordan’s voice sounded over the magical intercom, floating over the stadium.

Hermione watched carefully over the field- for once, she had been paying attention to a quidditch match.

Her reasons why were… personal.

She stuck her nose in a book, thanking Luna for her cup of hot chocolate she had brought.

Hermione minded her business.

And he came out of nowhere.

Two feet stomped in front of her, clad in standard quidditch boots, the silver and black tip of a broomstick coming into her line of sight. Despite the stands being packed, those within a five foot vicinity of her and the intruder in their gryffindor section leaned back and away, watching the scene in front of them.

Hermione inhaled deeply. She dragged her eyes up, praying against the worst.

Her prayers were not answered. Not as she saw the dark quidditch leathers clinging tightly to his legs, the number nineteen painted across his jersey in silver letters. Against a green background. She continued her path upwards, and made direct eye contact with Draco Malfoy.

His focus was already on her, staring down his nose at her, pale eyes glittering. She sat up straighter, tipping her chin defiantly.

“Granger,” he said, voice void of emotion.

She leveled their gazes. “Malfoy.”

“Enjoying the game, Granger?” His eyes glinted playfully, and Hermione scowled, wondering what the bloody hell he was getting at.

She decided to play along.

“Rather enjoying watching you get your arse beat,” she replied.

“Oh, Granger,” he smirked with arrogance, “don’t you have enough of staring at my arse in the hallways?”

Her cheeks burned, and she struggled not to take her book and backhand him with it. She glared at him menacingly, and turned back to the volume, hoping if she ignored him, he would simply go away.

That was not the case.

When he spoke again, Hermione looked up, finding him significantly closer. He was examining her. “You look cold,” Malfoy said, a frown playing on his full lips.

In truth, she was freezing. The thick jumper and denims she had worn to the match had not been enough to combat the early November chill. “I’m fine,” she replied politely, holding up the hand with her hot chocolate in it.

Not enough. He tsked at her, and before Hermione could process it, he had taken off his Slytherin quidditch robes, placing the long garment around her shoulders.

She heard several gasps around them. Draco continued arranging the fabric to warm her best, closing buttons, reaching around and getting much closer to her than needed in order to gently pull her wild locks from underneath the neckline. He conjured a scarf from nowhere, (of course, silver and green), and placed it around her neck, pulling up the hood of his robes over her curls.

He stood, still leaning in towards her, and Hermione huffed; she was sure she resembled more of a cloud of blankets than a person, now. “Are you satisfied?” she asked irritably.

He was standing tall in front of her, his arms bare of the armor guards most players wore; he was wearing his summer jersey, and Hermione scowled, because she had told him to remember to pick up his winter gear from her dorm.  One short sleeve was pushed up, showing off the muscle of his bicep, and the wispy tattoo of an otter on his shoulder. His jersey was rumpled with wind, hair tousled deliciously over his forehead, shading his gray eyes.

The frown turned to a small, devious smirk. Hermione held her breath as he whispered, “Not quite.” Malfoy leaned in, bracing his hands on the stand behind her, caging her in his arms. His nose brushed hers playfully for a moment. "Hermione," he said so quietly she could barely hear him.

“Draco,” she whispered back, tilting up her chin to meet him.

He kissed her softly, sweetly, as if they had all the time in the world. As if he could do it all day, every day for the rest of his life. Hermione so hoped he would; as his lips caressed hers with a gentleness that broke her heart, she hoped this feeling would never end.

No one else’s kisses made the world fall away. Made her forget she was standing in the middle of the bloody quidditch stands, in the middle of a bloody match.

As soon as it began, it was over. He stepped back, smirking.

except this is a draft i haven’t finished but i don’t feel like writing the filler parts so here y’all go

Seventh year, they’ve been dating for around 2-3 months. Before Lily’s birthday.

Peter came running back to their group, his chest heaving and cheeks red. The four of them huddled tightly together. He glanced at Remus momentarily, catching his breath as he leaned on his knees.

“Well?” Lily asked urgently, gnawing on the skin of her thumb. “What’d you hear?”

Peter looked up at her, holding up a finger. “Give me,” he wheezed, “A moment.”

“C’mon, Pete,” Remus said. Peter stood up, glancing at Remus again, his eyes full of worry. Then he looked straight at Lily, avoiding his gaze.

He took a breath. “Mcgonagall said there’s a werewolf on school grounds.” He looked right at Remus, now. “Part of Greyback’s pack.”

Marlene cursed, squeezing Dorcas’s hand tightly. “And they’re sure everyone is accounted for?”

“Except James and Sirius?” Peter whispered, “Yea.”

“Shit.”

Remus tapped his foot on the floor, staring at his shoes. “They’re sure it’s not Greyback?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t stick around long enough-”

He looked up at Peter sharply, taking a step forward as he growled, “Then go back and make sure.” Remus’s eyes flashed yellow gold for a moment. Peter stumbled back a bit, watching his friend with wide eyes. Remus’s eyes faded back to brown, and he immediately shot back in horror, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Pete,” he sighed.

“It’s alright, mate.” Although Peter looked a bit pale.

Lily touched her hand to Remus’s arm, lacing her fingers through his. “They’ll be okay.” She squeezed his scarred hand, and whispered quietly, “He’ll be okay.”

Remus’s shoulders seemed to fall in on themselves, and in that moment he seemed so small and fragile Lily wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and never let him go. She supposed she didn’t look too different herself.

“So what do we do now?” Dorcas asked.

Remus and Peter looked at Lily. I guess it’s up to me, then. “We’ll go back to our dorms as normal. You two can stay in my room,” she nodded to the two girls. “Pete, Remus, just go upstairs and if anyone asks, say James and Sirius are already up there. Once Mcgonagall leaves we’ll come back down and make a plan.”

Everyone nodded in tandem, turning towards the staircases, Marlene and Dorcas disappearing behind the portrait. Before Peter passed her, Lily took his shoulder, whispering as quietly as she could, knowing damn well Remus could hear her. “Pete.”

“Yea?” He glanced down at her, his eyes wide and fearful. Oh, she couldn’t imagine how horrible he was feeling, but she had to say it anyway.

“Keep an eye on Remus, okay? You know how he is when he’s upset, just… make sure he doesn’t dwell or worry too much.”

Peter nodded solemnly. “Yea. Yea, of course.”

“And Peter,” she said, and this time pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him entirely despite the fact that he was taller than her. “Take care of yourself, please? Don’t worry too much. If there’s anyone that can get themselves into and out of trouble like this, it’s James and Sirius.”

“Yea,” he let out a heaving breath, “I sure hope so.”

Lily rubbed her thumb over his cheek, smiling kindly, and made her way towards her dorm entrance.

“Just where do you think you are going?” A shrill voice called out, and Lily froze, wincing as she turned around, seeing Peter and Remus do the same on the boy’s steps.

Peter gave his best frightful, worried eyes, and Lily thanked Merlin. He wasn't letting Remus speak. “We were ordered to go to our rooms immediately, Professor.”

Mcgonagall narrowed her eyes, glancing between them. “And where is your other half?” she asked.

“They’ve already gone to bed early, Professor. James convinced Sirius since there’s a big Quidditch game tomorrow.”

“Mhm.” She scrutinized them all for a moment, and nodded, turning. Lily opened her door to find Marlene and Dorcas already sitting comfortably on the couch, nursing mugs of tea.

Lily nearly collapsed onto the cushions, fidgeting nervously, picking at her thumbs. Dorcas took her hand. “It’ll be okay, love.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

An hour had passed, and Lily was still pacing around her sitting room. Marlene and Dorcas were both fast asleep in front of the fire, cuddled together on a plush chair. Lily’s heart ached as she watched them, as a million thoughts ran through her mind— the main one being, Where the hell are Sirius and James? Where is my boyfriend?

She felt as if her entire body was screaming. As she looked out the window, towards the waxing moon, it was screaming out, screaming one thing.

Come back to me.

He could die. Lily knew it was a very real possibility that he could die. James could be dead right now, searching for help, crying her name, and she was all the way over here, doing nothing but pacing back and forth.

Sirius, a boy that she never thought she would love as much as she does, could die. James could die, and she would never get to tell him she loved him. That she is in love with him, now and forever.

No. No. Absolutely not. That would not happen. No way in Merlin’s burning hell would that happen.

Before she knew what exactly she was doing, Lily had her boots on, wand at the ready and cloak in hand. She glanced at Marlene and Dorcas— now wasn’t the time to put more of her friends in danger. But she had to do something, right?

Lily stepped out of her own portrait, walking down the hall to the main common room— and was stopped. Remus was sitting on the couch alone, Sirius’s leather jacket in his hand, watching the fire.

Lily approached him slowly. “Remus?”

He turned his head up, and smiled weakly. “It appears we had the same idea,” he said as Lily plopped down next to him gently.

“Appears so,” she smiled, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yea— yea,” he cleared his throat, laying back against the couch. The orange light reflected off Remus’s gold-spun hair, his scars turning varying hues of dark pink and silvery-white. Lily often forgot how beautiful Remus was— now, he looked like an ancient painting of a roman god.

But his eyes were tired. When in doubt, Lily could always look in her friends eyes and know the truth of his feelings. And as she gazed into them now, they looked worn and full of pain, far beyond his seventeen years.

He glanced up at her, catching her worried stare. Lily raised her brows. “I’m fine, Lils, I’m fine— I, er, came out here so I could go and find them, you know. All I could think about was that they’re dying, he’s dying right now, and they’re my best friends— anyway.” He tapped his foot against the stone floor repeatedly, his fingers fidgeting against his knee as he sat up. “But then I remembered, it’s nearly a full moon, and if Greyback gets control of me again— well, I would probably end up killing them.”

Lily’s heart ached for her friend. He looked shattered, his voice weak. She pulled him closer, embracing him tightly. “It’s going to be okay, Remus.”

He chucked bitterly. “If only we knew that.”

“Remus,” she pulled back, her hands on either side of his face. “I know how you feel. I’m telling you it will be alright.”

He watched her for a moment longer, and Remus’s face crumpled. Lily watched as he let his guard down, as that iron lock on his emotions was released, and Remus’s face crumpled. He let his head fall onto her shoulder, a shudder coming out of him.

“It’s just- They’re— He’s out there and he could— Lily, he’s my— my—“ Remus gasped for breath as he drily sobbed into her shoulder, and Lily squeezed him tight.

“Remus, I know. I know, Alright? Sirius will be okay. They’ll both be okay.”

“Yea.” He let out a deep breath. “Yea, I know.” They were both silent for a long moment, staring at the crackling flames before them. Remus whispered, “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if Sirius is hurt.”

Lily looked up at him, and knew she had to go. She had to go. She stood, shouldering on the cloak, wand in hand. “I’m going.”

“No, Lily, not by yourself—“

Remus, I have to—“

*Dorcas and Marlene come out, arguing, Peter comes, more people hear commotion, Hestia Jones comes out, figures out that it’s james and sirius missing, calls them all were wolf lovers and says gross shit abt werewolves*

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter hissed, clenching his fists.

Hestia narrowed her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Pettigrew.”

“Hey,” Remus said lowly, his voice warning and dripping with poison.

But Lily stood in front of him, her face flushed with anger, the ends of her hair sparking. “You won’t speak to my friends that way,” Lily said coldly. Hestia only smirked.

“Yea? And what-”

She stopped speaking as the portrait opened behind them, and Sirius and James stepped in, Sirius’s arm flung over James’s shoulder. He was leaning on him heavily, clearly hurt.

But Lily would focus on Sirius later.

Right now, all she could see was James. His brown skin was ashen and smudged with dirt, a long cut running along his cheek, dripping blood. There was a crack in his glasses, his hair more askew than usual. But he was standing. He was breathing. And he was looking right at her.

She took one step forward, in a trance.

And then, nearly at the speed of light, Lily raced towards her wizard, jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. She heard several gasps around the room, but couldn’t bring herself to care. James had caught her easily, and was holding an arm around her waist.

“Petals?” He asked quietly. Lily only shook her head, squeezing him tighter as tears fell down her face mercilessly, soaking his sweater. “Merlin,” James laughed. “If you missed me this much-”

“You were missing,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You could’ve died.”

“Lily,” he murmured, “I’m okay, love.”

tw: racial slur

The ropes grinded against her wrists. They were raw already- sure to leave a scar, with the deep indentations they made. Hermione could feel the poison seeping through her veins, making her arms feel limp.

“Do you know why I hate you so much?” She inquired airily.

He drawled, “Well, I don’t care, but I’m sure I’m about to find out.”

Hermione laughed. “You know, I think I was in year 6- primary school, of course- when I first discovered I’m magical. Or, at least, became aware of it. I was sitting in my bedroom one night, reading Matilda. Wonderful book, by the way. This little girl basically discovers she’s telepathic and telekinetic, and leaves her abusive home with parents that never understood her to become adopted by her teacher, that is something of a kindred spirit to her.”

“I don’t know what telepathic or telekinetic is, and getting adopted by a teacher sounds like a very peculiar and hellish form of punishment.”

“Well I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I? And she basically discovered she could move things with her mind. The girl was very smart, you see- solving maths problems far beyond her years, reading war and peace and all that rot.”

“What is War and Peace?” he asked flatly.

“Shut up. Little ten year old Hermione is sitting on her bed, reading this book- well, I suppose I should provide you with context. You see, I’m a bit odd, as I’m sure you know-”

“Unfortunately I’m becoming far too well acquainted with the fact-”

“Did I ask you to speak? Anyway, I know this. It is an obvious fact. I am… socially inept, as some would say, and I have a habit of preferring books to people; I’ve never been familiar with having an actual filter, although I am quite sensitive and emotional as a person. Understanding other people’s illogical thought processes isn't necessarily my cup of tea.”

“So you’re an antisocial arsehole. I could’ve told you that all by myself.”

Hermione looked up at the ceiling in a nonchalant fashion. “It’s funny, you keep speaking, and I don’t remember asking to hear your voice. So strange.” She could practically hear him rolling his eyes behind her, the ropes grinding along her wrist as he shifted, but he didn’t speak again. Hm.

“Anyway, that didn’t go well with the act of making friends. My parents are both dentists, so we’re certainly not poor, and being half black in an upper middle class neighborhood didn’t help, either, of course. And the fact that my wonderful white mother, bless her soul, hasn’t the slightest clue how to do my hair- explanation for the horrendous bush I walked around with up until 5th year, by the way.”

He snorted, but didn’t say anything. Hermione smiled to herself triumphantly- somehow making Malfoy her veritable bitch in a matter of four minutes felt like an intense accomplishment.

“Angelina taught me how to do it. Imagine that. And of course the fact that I essentially had to bully myself into becoming pretty, which didn’t happen until fifth year at least, and I was never skinny and delicate like the little Sarah’s and Bethany’s I grew up with. Yes, being odd, ugly, and black in White Suburban Northern England does not bode well for anybody.” She sighed aloud. “And then I read Matilda- a life changing book. I read it, and just for a moment I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe I could be like Matilda- I could discover magical powers, and someone would whisk me away to a place where I would finally belong. Sound familiar?” She turned. No answer. “You can speak now.”

“Unfortunately,” he grounded out, banging his head against the pole. She felt the vibration through her spine, sending a chill down her body.

“Thank you,” she replied. “And my, oh my, I dreamt- I generally pride myself on valuing logic over irrational thoughts, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sensitive at heart, you see,” Hermione whispered as if it were a secret. “I wanted it so badly. I wanted, just for once, to be proven there was something out there, waiting. It was never that there was anything wrong with me- it was just that nobody else understood. I dreamt of that happening.

“So I sat at the edge of my bed, and I hoped and prayed on every damn star. There was this teacup- fake china, painted pink and gold from a play set. I stared at it on my windowsill, and stared and stared and stared, until it moved. Just a fraction, not even an inch. So I got up and marked the windowsill with a marker. And I did it again- this time with proof. It took me hours to make even the slightest progress, but I had it floating in the air when my dad walked in, ready to yell at me for being awake when the sun was about to rise. He surprised me, and the cup flew at his head, smashing against the wall. My parents had a very long lecture with me that night about violence and healthy expressions of anger.

“But I never cared. I couldn’t care, because now, according to the plot of the story, my Ms. Honey would come to me soon and swoop me away to a place I belonged. Everything I could dream of was at my fingertips- and I prayed for it every night. Imagine my shock when the Hogwarts Letter and Minerva Mcgonagall both arrived on my front doorstep.

“And I dreamt of it every night after. I read all the books about Hogwarts and its history and teachings- I suppose you could say Hogwarts was supposed to be my Ms. Honey. I yearned for the place where I would never be called a mutt or half breed, never told I didn’t belong or I was just a negro and I wasn’t worth it.”

“What’s a knee-grow?” Draco asked. Hermione almost laughed- but she only continued.

“Not something you can say. And then I finally get to Hogwarts. I finally got home. The place I’ll belong. And There’s a snotty, pompous rich kid with hair too white to be natural that is looking at me like I’m the most disgusting thing on this Earth and calling me mudblood and telling me I don’t deserve to be here.

“So I tried. I busted my fucking arse and nearly killed myself with how hard I was trying in school, because I simply had to prove I was the best, and I had to prove I deserved to be in Hogwarts and I belonged there, and no one could say anything about being a mudblood or stealing magic because I was proving it everyday that this was my place.

“And you kept. On. reminding me.” She slapped the floor with her palm. “I worked and worked and worked, but it was like every time I turned around, I was reminded that I will never be enough. Not in Hogwarts, not in the real world, nowhere. And It killed me. God, the amount of work I was doing was killing me. I gave up this year, you know-- I remember I was working on an essay for charms, which I really happen to like, and it only required one and a half pages or something. And I did five, a month before it was due. I sat in the library, close to midnight, completely alone, and wondered, what the fuck am I doing? What is this essay even about? Do I know?

I started listing the facts of it to myself- but I wondered if any of it was truly useful, if I knew what it actually meant? And the answer was no. I Used to love learning. I used to absorb knowledge at every chance I got, and magic made me feel alive. But the way I was working myself to death ruined that. The way you made me feel ruined that.” Hermione settled back into the pole. “Yea, that’s that. How does it feel knowing you’re the worst fucking person ever?

“Great,” he said, his voice empty and lifeless.

Good, Hermione thought to herself. I hope everytime you look in the mirror, bottomless darkness stares back at you. I hope you look in your own eyes, and see nothing. I hope you’ll find that you don’t even recognize who looks back at you.

October 31st, 1977

“Lily didn’t seem like she was doing okay,” he said. “I should probably go check on her.”

She pulled him back in, her long fingers roaming over his shoulders. “Why do you care?” Alexandra asked, eyeing him closely.

James looked back at her, tearing his eyes away from where he had caught Lily leaving. “What?”

She scowled. “You heard me. Why do you care?”

“What do you mean, Lexie? She’s my friend, why wouldn’t I care?”

Alexandra scoffed. “Bullshit, James. She’s not your friend.”

James pulled his head back a bit, creasing his brows. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. She,” Lexie eye’s flicked towards where Lily had been, “Is not just your friend. Come on, JJ.”

“What are you talking about, Lexie?”

She turned her head, voice laced with venom. “Seriously? You know what I’m talking about! She has feelings for you!”

James balked. “Alexandra, this is Lily we’re talking about. She does not-”

“Yes she does,” she replied firmly. “And if you can’t see that, then you are truly an idiot, James Potter.”

“Lexie, you’re being ridiculous. I’ve been trying with Lily for years, I would know if she had feelings for me-” James saw the way Lexie’s eyes narrowed, and immediately regretted saying that. Seriously, Potter? You’re telling your girlfriend you’ve been trying with Lily for years?

“Yea?” she questioned. “You would know, right? So you can go running back to her?” James shook his head, opening his mouth, but she scoffed. “Please, spare me. You would go back to her in a heartbeat, JJ. We all know everyone will always come second when it comes to Lily.” She closed her eyes tightly, turning her head from him.

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed, although he wasn’t very sure if he believed it himself. “Lily is my friend, Lexie, just like Moony and Sirius and Peter are.” The truth, plain and simple. Lily had been there for him when his father had died. She had always been his shining light when things got too dark. He would never abandon her when she needed him. Never. James shook his head. “You just don’t understand what we’ve been through-”

The brunette snapped her head back to him, eyes cold and angry. “I do understand that you would choose that mudblood over me!” James closed his mouth immediately, his stare darkening. Alexandra gasped to herself, gaping at him- “JJ, I’m-”

He simply reached up and removed her arms from around his neck, stepping out of her arms. She reached for him, but he pushed her arms down, folding his own in front of him. “You’re right, Alexandra,” he said. “I would always choose good people like Lily and Sirius and Remus and Peter over someone like you.”

“James-”

“We’re done,” he said, and smiled cruelly. “Don’t worry, you can keep the quidditch jersey. I don’t want it back.”

He turned around, leaving the great hall. James could hear Alexandra calling after him, but he didn’t care. Never, in his entire life had he wanted to hex a girl so badly- scratch that, a person. He took a deep breath, his anger for Lily fading into protectiveness and concern.

He saw the look in her eye when she stormed out, and thought to himself, stupid stupid stupid. He shouldn’t have even bothered with Alexandra- just left her in the dust and gone after Lily. It’s what she deserved. Lily of all people never deserved to cry alone. And he wouldn’t let her be upset or angry or sad or lonely. Not while he was around.

Keep Lily safe.

Then James stopped in his tracks as a realization came to him- What if Alexandra was right?

No way. He scoffed at himself as he turned the corner to their dorm. Absolutely no way. Right?

He had loved Lily for so long… merlin, the possibility of her loving him back seemed-

Oh, Merlin.

Nope. No, no, never. James couldn’t even think about it much longer, lest he have a heart attack.

He arrived in front of their portrait, nervously pushing his hands through his hair before stepping through. He glanced around the small hallway, tapping his fingers against his thigh, watching Lily’s door. He absentmindedly wondered where Remus and Sirius were, having not seen them as he left- and knocked on the door.

“Lils?” he said, and noticed that the door was open. He pushed against it, entering her dorm space, glancing around. “Lily?”

James walked inside, about to call her name again- when he heard weak, slurred singing. Singing?

“Youu bet fape yup do do do,” the voice sang off key, “Cuz IIII needs a menn.” The voice broke into tears on the last line, and James frantically walked forward.

Lily was sprawled on the floor behind the couch, a carton of ice cream beside her, her hair now back to red and falling messily around her shoulders. She had mascara streaming down her pale skin in black lines, a frown on her full lips as she cried over the spoon of coffee ice cream in her mouth.

“Lils?” he asked gently, semi afraid to spook her off. “Are you alright?”

Lily glanced up, a weak smile forming on her lips. “Jaaaames!” she threw her arms up, the spoon flicking out of her mouth.

James knelt, offering his hand. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed, yea?”

She shook her head, grabbing the edge of the sofa. “I can get up on my own, see?” Lily heaved herself up clumsily. “I’m an independent woman!”

She got onto her feet, and James snickered as she immediately stumbled into his waiting arms. He caught her, holding her upright, her hands landing on his shoulders. “Yes, of course you are. Come now, this independent woman needs sleep.”

But Lily didn’t move forward. She only sighed, relaxing against him, laying her head against his chest. James felt his heart speed up, his cheeks flaming with color, and he prayed for mercy.

“Petals,” he tugged on her hair affectionately, “it’s late.” James tried to sound playful, but his voice came out hoarse, a whisper.

Lily lifted her head, her watery eyes crusted with mascara. She searched James’s face. Fuck, she’s beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the world. How can I ever look at anyone else?

Alexandra had definitely been right about one thing. He would go back to Lily in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, God,” she moaned, wiping her cheeks- which only made the matter of her smeared makeup worse.“I look a mess.”

James gave a breathless laugh, unable to take his eyes off her. “You look perfect,” he muttered aloud, and then nearly shit himself for not saying it in his bloody head. Maybe he was a little more drunk than he thought.

Lily’s frown only deepened, and she banged her forehead down on his chest, groaning. “You make this so hard.”

James tried to lift her chin and make her look at him, but she wasn’t having it. “Petals, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Yes!” She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, those tempting lips of hers wobbling. She even looks good crying, for fuck’s sake. “You’re my friend.” Lily’s voice broke on the last word. “And you have a girlfriend!”

James was not entirely sure what she was talking about, but he blurted,“I broke up with Alexandra.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“We’re erm… we’re not together anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because…” because she’s a nasty bitch, and nobody talks about my Lily that way and lives. “My heart just wasn’t in it.”

Lily brought her hand up tentatively from where it had been resting on his shoulder, brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen into his eyes. She sighed, pushing her fingers through his dark locks, and then gently tracing them over his brows, his cheekbones. James’s eyes closed, almost against his will.

“Oh James,” she breathed as her fingertips traveled over his bottom lip.

Her hand caressed his cheek, and his lashes fluttered. “Lily?” James wasn’t sure if his lungs were working correctly.

She was impossibly close. James noticed her feet were just barely touching the ground, actually- he was holding her up. Up high enough that Lily barely had to lift her chin to touch her lips to his.

James’s eyes flew open, and then immediately closed as she crushed her lips to his, whimpering softly, holding his face in her hands. He tightened his arm around her waist on instinct, one hand coming up to bury itself in her hair, cupping the back of her neck. She tasted like sweet berries and firewhisky, and James thought he might explode or die right there on the spot.

When Lily moaned, a breathless whine as she slid her tongue into his mouth, pushing forward with fervor, James was sure his soul left his body.

He thought he might never be able to stop. James cursed himself for stopping, but he knew he should because she’s drunk and this is the worst possible time to get caught up in the moment. So he pulled away gently, still breathless, his chest heaving, their lips still touching. He tightened his hand in her hair as her eyes opened, staring right at him. James pressed his forehead to hers.

“Lily,” he whispered, praying that this wasn't a dream. “My Lily.”

She only stared at him, her lips pink and a bit swollen, eyes wide and suddenly clear. James didn’t say a word, he simply picked her up, carried her to the open door of her bedroom, and set her atop the mattress.

He thought she might say something- but Lily already appeared to be falling asleep. James removed the clips from her hair, taking wipes off her nightstand and wiping away the cosmetics she had applied. He was sure Lily would not appreciate him undressing her, so James pulled the blankets over her body, kissed her forehead, and left.

When he got inside his dorm, James leaned against the wood roughly, touching his lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Seventh year. At this point, Lily & James have become friends- really good friends, actually. Lots of things have led up to this, but that’s a story for another time.

But because they’re such good friends, and it’s literally been seven years, James takes some advice (against his better judgement) from an older friend on the quidditch team-

Move the fuck on. 

So, he does. James meets a girl- actually, a girl that’s been flirting with him and appearing pretty much everywhere for a while. And they start going out. It’s all fine and dandy- she’s cute (actually she’s like super model pretty, but in James’s eyes anyone that isn’t Lily would never be much more than “cute”) James is into her, he knows the thing w Lily will never happen; he’s accepted his fate. he (thinks) has moved on.

And Lily is dying.

Because for bloody sakes’, why is Alexandra (James’s sort-of-girlfriend) everywhere? With her long legs and slim build and perfect hair and sultry Oh, Jj, you’re soooo funny. And why does she call James Jj? That’s not his bloody name, and if anyone should be getting to call him nicknames and smooth out his hair and snuggle beneath his arms and hold his hand and kiss him it should be her-

And she’s sitting in the common room one day, and realizes- Oh. I’m totally in love with James Potter. 

The worst part is, it’s not like she’s just now having feelings for him; no, the more Lily thinks about it, the more she realizes just how deep this thing goes. But seriously, Alexandra wasn’t there during James’s anxiety attack in the hallway, and she didn’t know how good he was with children and how, despite all his friend’s teasing, he was actually amazing at being Head boy. Alexandra didn’t comfort James when his father died, and she didn’t spend late nights with him making prefect’s schedules or dance with him on Valentine’s day. Alexandra didn’t know what it was like to look at him and have him look at you and feel like the most important person in the world.

The list goes on. It goes on, and on, and on, from the moment Lily sat next to him in Herbology last year and realized, Wow, Potter’s not half bad, to the night when her parents died and James Potter of all people had been the only one to find her and calm her down, the only one to make her feel safe; all the way to the summer when she had watched him play quidditch shirtless and actually felt her soul leave her body. When they had gotten their Head Boy and Head Girl badges, and James had picked her up and spun her around, whooping loudly, and her heart fluttered.

And Lily is a mess. Like, she’s seriously dying. And James, of course, is oblivious. Because he’s still in love with Lily- he’ll try to convince himself otherwise; but he knows the truth. It’s always gonna be Lily. But her even thinking of liking her back? Please. Impossible. Right? Besides, he has Alexandra now. He’s moving on. Right? 

Right?

But because they’re James and Lily, and because they’re both idiots, neither of them happens to notice that the other is in love with them. Lily of course believes he has moved on, and James is trying to believe that himself. And, of course, everyone around them knows- because seriously, how couldn’t you know? One look at them- just a glance, and it’s clear as day. Lily Evans and James Potter were made for each other. 

So halloween comes around. Lexie (as James, to Lily’s frustration and disgust, calls her) wants to do a matching costume w/ James for the ball- but it’s tradition for the Head Girl and Head Boy to match. (Is it really, tho? I’m looking at you, Minerva)

Anyway, James and Lily go as Sandy and Danny in the final scene of Grease (Lily made him watch it over the summer) and James thinks he might actually die because Holy shit, the way those trousers look on her hips and she’s dyed her hair blonde and wow, I’m a horrible person because this is Lily and I have a girlfriend-

But the dance is amazing. Remus & Sirius snuck off to god knows where to snog, Peter is having a blast w/ a girl he’s into. James and Lily dance the night away- until Alexandra interrupts them, dances with James. Lily gets suuuuper jealous (a common theme lately) and gets drunk out of her mind. (not so common, Miss Evans is the lightest of lightweights). During a slow dance, James sees Lily leaving the Great Hall with tears in her eyes. 

except i skip over a bunch of shit bc it’s 1am and i am tired. 

“I heard they have huge statues that you have to duel to decide which one you get into,” Sirius said. 

“Well that doesn’t even make sense,” Peter squeaked. 

“Well, I heard-” James yelped suddenly as he tripped forward, falling on his face and groaning, his glasses landing away from him. He groaned, rubbing his nose, feeling out the ground for his glasses. 

“Oh, my word I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Soft hands grasped his arms, the fingernails painted electric purple. James looked up, and above him was a girl- a perfect, flawless girl. She had shining auburn hair that cascaded over her pale, round cheeks, stunning green eyes and thick lashes, full lips. That girl from the train. 

He had hoped he would see her again. Hoped maybe she would notice him. Maybe he could say hi. Maybe he could also ask her parents for her hand in marriage. 

The girl hauled him to his feet. She was strong- James liked that. Please, pick me up and take us away. He was breathless. He also couldn’t see very well. She slid his glasses onto his nose, wincing.

“I’m so sorry,” she babbled, “I had no idea where I was going. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

James blinked several times. Mother of Merlin, her face was very distracting. He finally caught his breath. Say something. Something cool. Impress her. “Oh, it’s fine- I mean, er, it’s cool,” he tried to lean backwards, appear nonchalant like he had seen the older boys in his town do when they talked to girls. But they were surrounded by people, not walls, and he just ended up stumbling further. “It’s great, I’m great- I mean, I saw you on the train earlier, and you were great- we were all great, I think- greatness. Yes. I’m James. I’m completely in love with you.” 

The girl blinked. Once. Twice. “Did you hit your head?”

“Yes. NO. I mean, possibly.” James stuck his hand out- he wasn’t sure if he could stop his mouth from forming words. “Hi, I’m James.” She stared at him. 

“I’m Lily. Do they have a nurse here? I really think you should-” A boy around their age came up behind Lily, taking her hand. 

“Come, Lily, the doors are opening.” Lily opened her mouth, but he pulled her along, and they disappeared.

James stared after them, opened mouth. He stopped Sirius as he walked in front of him. “Did you see that?” he asked, still watching after Lily’s direction. 

“What, you falling on your ass? Yes,” he snickered. 

“No, no. That. The girl.” 

“Oh, Lisa? She sat in my cabin earlier. Her friend is weird.” 

“So you saw her?” Sirius turned towards James, an extremely judgey look on his face. 

“Did you hit your head?”

“Answer the question, Black.” 

“yes, I saw her.” 

James nodded. “Good. I was just making sure she was real.”

Sirius blinked. “You’re joking.” 

Sirius rolled out from underneath the chair, grinning again. “I owe you one,” he laughed. Remus was still very confused, but he was also remembering what his mother had told him. 

That’s how we’ll get through this, Remus. 

Nope. Sirius Black would most definitely not owe him one. Sirius Black would get out of his cabin, and never speak to Remus again. Remus sat up, opening his mouth to tell Sirius to go- and the door opened. 

Today I’m extra lucky, apparently. 

A small girl with chubby cheeks and auburn hair popped her head in. “Is there any room here?”

Remus examined her for a quick moment- she seemed sweet, definitely lacked the glint of insanity in her eye that Sirius had. The girl sat down next to Remus, smiling kindly. 

“Hi, I’m Lily,” she said, holding out her hand. 

Remus took it. “I’m Remus,” he smiled back at her. The girl peeked over Remus’s lap, and her smile broadened. 

“Wow, you like The Lord of The Rings? I love that series! I haven’t finished the second book just yet, I was actually planning to read it on the ride to Hogwarts!” 

Remus grinned, picking up his book. “Really? I’m on my third reread.”

Sirius snorted in front of them. Asshole. Hopefully they would bore him with their book talk. 

“You two are definitely Ravenclaws,” he laughed. Remus opted to ignore him, because honestly, he wasn’t worth the time- but Lily turned her head. 

“I wouldn’t mind any of the houses, actually. Being cunning or brave or intelligent or kind all seem like wonderful traits to me.” 

“Maybe you’ll be a Hufflepuff, then,” Sirius replied in a more than condescending tone. Remus had a very strong urge to yell for that bloody prefect and expose Black- Lily was just being nice, after all. 

“Yea, and what about you?” Remus asked, not being able to resist the venom in his tone; okay, so he had a bit of a temper, but the pretentious wanker deserved it. 

Now Sirius shifted uncomfortably, and his cool demeanor faltered for a moment before he threw back his shoulders, obviously doing his best to seem more holier-than-thou than he already was. It wasn’t working very well, honestly- he just looked sad. 

“I’m a Black,” Sirius replied. “All the Blacks are Slytherins.” 

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

Sirius faltered. He opened his mouth to reply- but no words came out. Then the door opened again, and Remus was actually about to audibly sigh in exasperation. A boy with sallow skin and long, greasy black hair appeared, his attention immediately going to Lily. 

“Come, Lily,” he said coldly. “I found us a cabin.” 

“Oh, Sev-”

“Come on, you can meet some friends.” Lily turned back, smiling apologetically at Remus before following her friend out of the cabin. As she did, two other boys stepped in the doorway, one smaller and pudgy with pale blonde hair and wide blue eyes, the other thin and tall with brown skin, round glasses, and hair that stuck up in seven different directions. 

The brown skinned one stared after Lily and Sev, his mouth wide open, until his friend tugged on his sleeve. He came to life suddenly, pulling them both into Remus’s cabin. 

“Hi,” he grinned from where he sat across from Remus. “I’m James Potter. That’s Peter.” 

Peter raised a hand, waving meekly. He looked nice enough. Remus tried to look friendly, but he was already tired- this was the most social interaction he had ever had with anybody in his entire life, and he had barely gotten on the train an hour ago. 

“Hi. I’m Remus.” 

“I’m Sirius,” Sirius said. Sirius and James looked at each other, and James asked, 

“Aren’t you the one that took that prefect’s fags earlier?”

There it was again. That glint in Sirius’s eye. That speck in those steel grey irises that screamed, I’m trouble. “Yeah.” 

James gave him a smile, matching that same look- almost identical, despite how different the two boys appeared. “Wicked.” 

september 1st, 1971

Remember Remus, his mother had said, her voice timid as always. Keep to yourself. Just get your studies done, and have a quiet year. That’s how we’ll get through this. 

We. His parents had a habit of including all of them when warning Remus about his lycanthropy. Imagine how this would look for us, Remus, and, You must be careful for your sister, Remus. Think of the family, Remus. This is hard for us, Remus. We struggle for you, Remus. 

As if he weren’t the one himself experiencing being a werewolf. 

Nonetheless- Remus fully planned to take his mother’s advice. He had no desire for popularity, and no desire to be in the spotlight. Friends? Remus had hoped, had even (although he would never admit it aloud) prayed maybe someone would connect with him. Someone quiet that liked to read, that wasn’t loud or nosy and constantly asked personal questions he couldn’t answer. 

His father had squashed that hope, though. Nobody wants to play nice with a monster, Lyall had said coldly. 

Remus supposed he was right. But he couldn’t stop the teeny, tiny sprout of longing from growing, deep in his chest. Even if technically, his social skills were less than stellar, and in spite of his desperation to even be surrounded by other children his age, thinking about it and actually experiencing it were two very different things. As it turned out, eleven year old witches and wizards were bloody terrifying. 

So he sat in his cabin, alone, The Lord of the Rings open in front of him, half wishing he would drown in his too-large sweater. As the Hogwarts Express pulled away, he could see other parents waving their children goodbye, flailing arms sticking out of windows and waving about frantically. His family was nowhere to be found. 

“Hey.” Remus groaned from beneath the neck of his jumper, not bothering to move. “Hey!” The voice rang out a second time, and then Remus jolted awake as the doors to his cabin slammed close. 

Remus immediately jumped upwards, scratching the back of his neck, feeling groggy. How long had he been asleep? Not more than ten minutes, surely. 

Across from him, a very posh looking boy sat, his slim chest heaving. He had jet black hair that fell a few inches below the ears- unnaturally long, for most wizards. He had pale, golden toned skin, almond shaped eyes and wore immaculate dress robes. His skin looked as if it had been scrubbed so clean, Remus would see his own reflection in it. The boy looked like what Remus imagined the elves in his book- perfect, cold and beautiful. 

Something was... off. Very off. Remus looked closer, and noticed- yes, beneath the flawless high cheekbones and wealthy appearance, the boy’s hair was tousled this way and that, his robes slightly out of order, like he had scowled in the mirror and began pulling pieces apart. He had a bit of a crazed look in his eye, and there- a speck of dirt, right on his nose. 

Remus cleared his throat, not exactly sure what to do here- the boy had just stumbled into his cabin, slamming things shut, and now he had his ear pressed to the door, looking terrified and excited at the same time. 

“Um... hello?” Remus said quietly. I’m about 80% sure that isn’t supposed to sound like a question, he thought. The boy lay back on his seat, his chest heaving, and he laughed to himself- that smile practically screamed mischief. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his dress robes, tossing them back and forth in his hand. He took one out, looking up at Remus and offering them to him.

“Want one?” the boy asked. Remus stared at him incredulously.

“I’m eleven,” he said. The boy simply turned his head quizzically. 

“You don’t smoke?” 

Remus was officially baffled. “You do?”

He shrugged. “Nope.” The boy stood, and threw the pack of cigarettes out the window. 

Remus was officially confused. “Then why did you have cigarettes?” he asked.

Now, he was interested. His new cabin mate flashed a grin, his canines white and sharp. “Nicked it off a prefect,” he laughed. 

“Sirius Black!” A voice echoed in the hall of the train car, along with the sound of marching boots. Sirius’s smile disappeared, and he frantically looked around their cabin. 

“Is there anything in that bag?” he asked.

Remus’s brows drew together- “Well, no, except- what the bloody hell are you doing?” The boy was unzipping Remus’s bag, crawling inside. He brought a finger to his lips, shushing him. 

“You never saw me.” With that, he disappeared inside Remus’s bag, beneath the chair. Remus was officially baffled, and wondered if he could ask the train’s conductor to turn around and take him home. 

Then the cabin doors opened, and a tall man in green and black robes looked around, his expression angry and urgent. Remus was sure if the man’s skin wasn’t so flushed red, it would blend in with his alabaster hair. 

“Have you seen Sirius Black?” 

Remus hesitated, but shook his head, feigning ignorance. “Who’s that?” he asked. 

The man stared at Remus, eyes narrowing, and shook his head, turning back to his friend. “I’m gonna hex that little brat until he’s half dead when I find him.” He closed the doors promptly, and Remus listened until their stomping faded.