Summary: With an overbearing sister, a famous cat, and drama that follows wherever she goes, uni student Lily’s life is already a balancing act. And when a nest of rich single men slide into a long-vacant mansion on the outskirts of town, Lily insists to her housemates that it’s none of their concern. She’s never been more wrong.
Petunia: Have you heard the News about Netherfield?
Lily: that a band?
Petunia: No, Lily! The house on Elm Street!
Lily: v specific
Petunia: The Mansion, Lily.
Lily: ?
Petunia: Don’t be ridiculous! We took that tour last year?
Lily: ...ok?
Petunia: It’s been leased! (Finally.) Saw Yvonne at the gym, she told me everything.
Petunia: Lily, are you even listening?
Lily: im in a tutorial. LEARNING
Petunia: You skipped two last week!
Petunia: Anyway, Yvonne ran into Ms. Bagshot at the hairdresser yesterday. (Bathilda Bagshot, that is. And not the hairdresser on Birch Street, the one on Oak Road.) She (Yvonne, not Bathilda) had to switch because that girl from Birch Street positively Ruined her hair. Turned it orange, and she couldn’t leave the house for three days until I helped her fix it! Cannot believe I nearly considered having that girl do my wedding hair!
Petunia: Do you remember her?
Petunia: Bathilda, not the hairdresser.
Petunia: Mad as a hatter, Bathilda is, always trying to pass off her burnt biscuits. (Although she’s wonderful for News.)
Lily: b4 i graduate tuney pls
Petunia: Impatience doesn’t suit, Lily. Now where was I?
Lily: netherfield
Petunia: Oh yes. Ms. Bagshot told Yvonne all about her tea with Mrs Pinkerton. Apparently, Mrs Pinkerton’s sister (the younger, not the elder) is a housekeeper at Netherfield. And according to her, a fine Gentleman came to see it on Monday.
—
Lily Evans to gal pAL: my sister!
Alice: Another dating profile?
Lily: no
Lily: sort of?
Lily: she keeps blathering abt netherfield
Alice: Oh you mean the Longbottom guy?
Lily: how do u even??
Alice: :)
Lily: mar?
Alice: Yep.
Lily: shdve known
Lily: al shes been going on 10 mins now look
Petunia: B-T-W (by the way), he’s single!
Lily: there it is
Lily: single has a name?
Petunia: Longbottom.
Lily: no
Petunia: Frank Longbottom.
Lily: not any better
Petunia: Well, Mrs Pinkerton’s sister thought him quite dashing. :-)
Alice: That’s…
Lily: what am I supposed to do??
Alice: Aren’t you in your gender and politics tutorial???? Pay attention to your prof!
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word count: 5000
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part i | part ii
7:45
“Hurry up or I’m doing yours,” calls James, and Sirius glares down from his perch on the step ladder.
“Tell me again exactly why it is that I’m up here hanging the banners for your party and not you?”
“Because you loooove me,” James sings. Sirius gives him a kick but they both know the kick means of course I do. Sirius smacks the banner to make sure it’ll stay up (it won’t) and climbs back down. Remus, Peter and Evans are standing in a huddle by the fold out drinks table, and as they approach Evans whispers something to Peter and he glances over his shoulder as he giggles.
“Notice you’re doing fuck all,” Sirius says to Remus as the huddle expands to let him and James in.
“Noticed correctly,” Remus says as he accepts a shot glass from Evans and balances it on the rims of two glasses.
“Evans,” James says loudly, and she looks up at him sweetly, “you’ve only poured four shots.”
“Remus only gave me four glasses,” she says.
James rounds on him. “You’re not eighteen yet. It would be irresponsible.” Then he knocks the row of shots into the glasses and they all grab for a drink. Sirius watches James, the loser, take the bottle from beside Evans, unscrew the cap, and pour Jägermeister all over Remus’ shoes. Remus puts his empty glass on the table, looks at his feet, and starts laughing.
Sirius doesn’t know if he’s angry or not.
“These aren’t my shoes,” Remus says, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. The action produces an uncomfortable wet sound, and yeah. Sirius is angry. He doesn’t really remember doing it but suddenly James’ hair is wet and dripping and Sirius is holding an empty can of Red Bull.
Evans checks her watch. “You have nine minutes to shower and change.”
James nods and takes an unopened bottle of tequila and Evans’ hand, and leads them both upstairs.
“I still need new shoes,” Remus says. “And to sabotage all the banners to get rid of James’ name.”
Peter appears with a mop, even though Sirius hadn’t seen him disappear. “Sirius get shoes, Remus, you can sabotage two banners. I’ll put on This Is The Day and clean this up. Okay?”
Remus is already slipping out of the ruined shoes – Sirius’ ruined shoes – so Sirius climbs the stairs two at a time (this is the day) and takes the long way to his bedroom (your life will surely change) to avoid the downstairs bathroom.
9:02
James is ignoring him.
Okay, he and James are ignoring each other, but James is always the one who apologises even when it’s Sirius’ fault they started fighting and it’s been over an hour and Sirius hates this party.
Okay, take a breath. It’s only been an hour. James’ hair is still damp from the shower. He’s going to wait until it’s dry, then he’s going to be mad James hasn’t apologised yet.
He goes upstairs just so James will have to come looking for him.
“Beautiful boy,” Euphemia calls from the library, and Sirius ducks his head as he enters. He takes a spot on the carpet at her feet and she runs her hands through his hair. “Why are you hiding?”
“’M not,” he says.
“Okay,” she says, but it sounds more like liar, “why are you not-hiding, then?”
“I was coming to make sure it wasn’t too loud for you.”
“How sweet of you,” Fleamont says from the doorway, carrying a silver tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch on it.
“Our sons,” Euphemia says, stretching out a hand for one of the glasses, “are fighting.”
“Hey!”
Fleamont chuckles as he lowers himself into a reading chair.
“I never said we were fighting,” Sirius mutters.
“You didn’t need to,” Euphemia says. “Aai knows.”
“We’re fine up here, Sirius,” Fleamont says. “Listen, barely a sound. Now, I know you have a refined palate, so take this and go back to the party.”
Sirius takes the bottle of scotch, and kisses them both on the cheek before he leaves. He thinks about going to his room and sulking. He settles on sulking on the steps down to the den instead.
“Steal that from Baba?” James asks, as he sits down next to him.
“No.”
James gives him a look.
“He gave it to me.”
“Okay.”
They sit in silence for a minute, or they sit in Hold the Line for a minute, while Sirius watches a couple of the guys from the cricket team play beer pong and James watches Sirius. Finally, Sirius says, “Want some?” and James takes the bottle, and their fingers brush and Sirius can’t stay mad at him. “Sorry for pouring Red Bull on you.”
James takes a measured sip. It looks like he’s trying to suppress a cough, so Sirius pats him on the back. “Sorry for ruining your shoes,” he chokes.
Sirius smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”
9:40
“Excuse you, it is the original.”
“So? You want to tell me that the best version of Mad World is by Tears for Fears while you’re at it?” James shouts, and Evans shrinks back.
“I’m with her on this one,” Sirius says, going to stand next to her.
“How dare you forsake Olivia Newton-Jesus like this. You’re never allowed to watch Grease with me again,” James says.
“Don’t say anything you don’t mean,” Sirius says, voice low, arms crossed. He hopes that Evans is taking the opportunity he’s giving her, but he doesn’t want to look to check and draw James’ focus away from their argument. “You know I take ONJ very seriously.”
James looks pained. “But John Denver?”
“He gave us this song. You have to respect that.”
He says, “Fine,” and turns to give Evans the go-ahead, but she’s already by the stereo and flipping him off while Mr Denver tells them about the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah River.
Sirius says, “Sucks to suck.”
10:00
Euphemia and Fleamont come downstairs at ten on the dot, carrying a cake each, and Sirius and Peter spring forward to help, clearing off a section of the drinks table in a matter of seconds. Sirius pulls his lighter out of his pocket and starts lighting candles before Euphemia even gets the cake down, and when they’re all lit, he tosses it to Peter.
He sings so loudly he thinks he’s going to choke on his own voice, and he lets Fleamont basically force-feed him a too-large slice of cake, and he watches Euphemia and James waltz around the room to Little Things Mean a Lot with a growing pit of jealousy in his stomach, though he doesn’t know which one he’s jealous of. He steps in and dances with Moony, partly so his hands have something to do, partly because Moony looks extremely awkward just standing there, watching. Maybe it’s the sugar from the cake, maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe he’s just restless.
Euphemia drives herself and James towards them, and in a clever motion somehow swaps James for Remus. James squeezes his hand and takes the lead, and Sirius is grateful, because his heart has just skipped a beat and he doesn’t know why.
Kitty Kallen makes way for a One Direction song and Sirius drops James’ hand. Too fast (I just want to take you), too conspicuous (any way that you like), if James’ expression is anything to go by. “Loo,” he says, and walks away before he can blush any deeper.
10:31
He drops in between Peter and James on the low sofa, though he doesn’t really intend on joining in their conversation.
“Why would you say that?” James asks. He leans back and closes his eyes, and he smells a bit like weed, though Sirius knows neither of them have money for weed.
“Because it’s true.”
James scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”
“Artie Faller and Dan Tawdry are going to kick off on Monday after school over it, guaranteed.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” James yawns.
“Open your eyes, then,” Peter says, taking a sip of his cider.
“Open your mind,” James shoots back.
“No, literally. Open your eyes.”
James sits forward, annoyed, but he follows Peter’s finger, and his jaw goes slack. Sirius looks too, and what they’re looking at appears to be one of the boys from the cricket team eating the face of one of the girls Sirius thinks is on the girls’ football team.
“Worlds collide,” James whispers.
“Hogwarts Romeo and Juliet,” Peter says smugly. “Cricket team’s the Capulets.”
James pauses on his way sliding down to lay his head in Sirius’ lap. “Hey! Not all of the cricket team hates all of the football team.”
“Cricket team and football team get along factoid statistical error,” Peter says, and James rolls his eyes.
“Shut the fuck up,” James says. “Oh, Siri! When did you get here?”
Sirius looks down at him, pauses in stroking his hair. “Just now,” he lies.
“Well, you missed Tawdry and Tully Faller snogging.”
“They’re literally still going,” says Peter.
James looks annoyed. “Fuck off, Peter.”
“Yeah,” Sirius says, “fuck off, Peter.”
10:45
“Come on, let us give you a fringe,” Marlene whines, and Sirius dodges out of her reach.
“You’ll look like Joey Ramone,” Evans says, grabbing at his sleeve, because the party is dead enough that the two of them have retreated into the den loo.
Sirius gently removes her hand. “Evans, I would not let you near me with scissors sober let alone blind drunk.”
She hiccups. “I’m not blind,” she says, but she bumps into Marlene as she turns around so Sirius isn’t exactly inclined to change his mind. In a few seconds she’s completely forgotten him and calls to Benjy from the rugby team because his hair is looking really scruffy around your ears me and Marls’ll fix it step into our office and Sirius watches the boy as he’s forced down onto the closed toilet lid.
Sirius turns around just in time to watch Remus scream and launch himself across the room to turn the stereo up. He’s taken off his replacement shoes so it’s barefoot that he dances across the carpet to take Sirius’ hands.
“I would go out tonight,” he sings, “but I haven’t got a stitch—”
“To wear,” Sirius grins, allowing himself to be spun. He spins right into James, and Peter dips him, and he watches Benjy from the rugby team make a run for it when Lily and Marlene start singing at each other. Frank has a girl from their sociology class on his back and someone puts the song on again because even the cricket team is dancing and laughing and Peter decides to pour drinks.
“Come on!” James laughs, bending down for Sirius to climb onto his back. They spin in a circle, and Sirius is definitely going to throw up if they keep going but he laughs anyway and he loves James he loves James he loves Jameshelovesjame
Peter excuses himself to go to the loo, but Evans and Marlene have already reinstalled themselves in it, and Evans gives Marlene an extremely devious look that Sirius wants no part of.
“Peter, we think you would look absolutely fab,” Marlene starts.
“Fabbity fab,” Evans agrees.
“…with a mullet.”
“What,” Peter says, but Marlene has already cut a chunk of his hair off.
James wraps his arms around Sirius’ shoulders, and Sirius shivers. “Baba and Aai are going to bed, do we need anything before they check out?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Move!” Peter shouts, and Evans and Marlene leap back as he slides off the loo and opens the lid seconds before he starts vomiting. Marlene looks back at them with a bemused look on her face, but Evans just shrugs and continues cutting Pete’s hair. James releases Sirius and walks over to close the loo door. He wrinkles his nose as he smiles back at Sirius.
“Who’s ready!” Frank shouts, and makes a show of pressing play on James’ old laptop. Sirius shrugs at James, and takes his hands to drag him into the middle of the room to dance.
They’ve had a routine to this song since they were twelve, but that fucking film came out last year and yeah okay maybe Sirius looks a little like Ezra Miller and now when they break it out everyone thinks they’re doing that, so they just sway, but Sirius can see James going through their steps in his mind. “Spin,” James mutters to himself, “dip.”
Sirius just smiles, and rests his head on James’ shoulder.
11:13
“You guys wanna go up to James’ room?” Frank asks.
“And do what?” Remus asks, twisting around in James’ arms to look up at him.
Frank just pumps his eyebrows, and James snorts, burrowing his face into the crook of Remus’ neck. They barely fit on the loveseat just the two of them, even with Remus half in James’ lap, but Frank tries to drape himself over it anyway.
“Fuck off, Frank,” Remus says.
“This is James and Remus cuddle time, not James, Remus and Frank cuddle time,” James says.
Frank starts muttering to himself as he rolls off onto the floor, but Sirius watches him bounce to his feet and fall into step with Marlene with a slick, “Hey.”
He looks down at the laptop screen, and pulls up the queue. With a quick glance over at the loveseat he scrolls down and discretely removes one two three four five six seven songs by The Kinks.
11:20
“Sirius I’m Serious!” James says, and his voice is honest-to-god shaking. “It’s my party and you won’t let me listen to my music and – and…” he trails off as his voice breaks and he swallows a sob.
“You cannot play an entire Kinks album,” Sirius says calmly. “Everyone will hate you.”
“But I love her!”
Sirius blinks. “Her?”
“Them,” James corrects. “I love them. They speak to my soul.” He’s not looking at Sirius anymore. He’s looking somewhere behind Sirius, but Sirius doesn’t care to turn around and find out who what has grabbed his attention.
He pretends that Peter’s doing something interesting, and walks away without a word. Peter is rarely doing anything interesting, but Sirius needs a drink and Peter seems to be mixing drinks, so that’s interesting enough.
“What’s cookin’, mediocre lookin’?”
“Wet pussy,” Peter says, without looking up.
“Yeah, I’ll get in on that action,” Sirius says, picking up an empty shot glass.
Peter shakes the shaker, and pours them each a shot.
“James trying to play Kinks?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” Peter pauses to take his shot, and Sirius follows suit (hint of Jäger), “don’t worry. I’ve put something in the queue just for you.” He winks clumsily, and pours another set of shots.
A moment passes between them, and then Sirius says, “Peter, genuine question. Are you actually fucked in the head?”
“What? It’s Gasol—”
“No, it is not,” Sirius hisses. “Don’t you ever say that.”
“It’s the best remix,” Peter says, folding his arms. Defiant.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Chill and take another shot,” Peter says. “Remus is already walking over to skip it.”
(Remus is sprinting over to skip it.)
Sirius takes a deep breath, and rolls his shoulders. “You’re right.”
Peter looks righteously surprised. “I am?”
Sirius nods. “I fancy a smoke.”
“I fancy joining you.”
“Excellent,” Sirius says. Peter goes out into the little courtyard attached to the den first, and Sirius stands in the doorway. “Do you still have my lighter?”
Peter pulls the Bic out of his pocket and waves it around.
“Good, you can use it to keep you warm.” He steps back in and slams the door, making a show of locking it. Peter pounds on the glass half-heartedly for a few seconds and flips Sirius off, but it’s no use, so he just lays down.
“No one,” Sirius announces loudly, “is allowed to let Pettigrew back in until I say so.”
11:36
James is sitting with Evans on the low sofa when Sirius tries to walk past to the stereo to lock the laptop so Frank and Marlene can’t keep trying to put Gangnam Style on. He tries to walk past but James reaches out and pulls him down next to them. He already has an arm around Evans, and he throws his other around Sirius to keep him from leaving.
It’s a good tactic; Sirius wants nothing more than to leave.
“My two greatest loves,” James sighs, giving them a squeeze. Sirius is so close to him that he feels when James’ phone buzzes in his pocket. Both he and Evans read over James’ shoulder: ratatouille boy: hey im hungry. bring skips x
James nods to himself, and kisses them each on the forehead. He gets up, and wanders off to find Remus. Sirius darts a look at Evans, but she’s looking at her hands. The space between them is too small and too large all at once.
“I – I want you to know,” she says softly, and it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to be quiet. It just feels like the quietness is a coincidence. “I’m not angry with you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m angry with you.”
“I know you’re not,” he says, though he doesn’t, and he’s still not sure what she’s not angry about.
“I just really don’t want you to think that I have a problem with the way you love James.” This is quiet, quiet on purpose, quiet enough that Sirius can ignore it if he wants. “I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” James asks.
To her credit, Evans doesn’t act surprised that he’s suddenly back between them like he’d never left. “Don’t want to go to Spoons after the movie on Wednesday.”
“That’s ridiculous,” James scoffs. “Of course we’re going to Spoons. We always go to Spoons.”
Sirius is still looking at Evans over James’ shoulder. He wants her to know that what she’s said, where she’s said it – it feels like a betrayal. But he has a Black’s face and those aren’t really equipped to convey subtle emotion, so she doesn’t get it. She just gives him a soft look. Gangnam Style is playing.
He kind of hates her.
12:00
“Pete wants to know if he can come back in yet.”
“Tell Peter if he wanted to remain inside he should have thought of that before he played a hideous remix of the greatest song of all time.”
Frank shrugs. “Can I at least take him a beer?”
Sirius considers. “Yeah, go on.”
Marlene slings an arm around his shoulders as he watches Frank go. “Seems unusually charitable of you.”
Sirius pats her hand. “Peter hates beer.” He turns around and touches her uneven bangs. “Done with the barbershop?”
Marlene sighs, a big dramatic affair that involves her entire body and the act of slumping almost to the floor.
“Spit it out.”
Marlene removes her hand from where it’s draped delicately across her forehead and gives him a look. “Potter stole my business partner.”
“Stole her where? This is not a large room.” This is not a small house.
“I don’t know, Black. If I knew, then I would go steal her back.”
Sirius frowns, and Marlene pulls a flask out from somewhere. She offers him a swig, and he decides he doesn’t care that it came from her somewhere.
“Like,” she says, “I would die for Lily Evans, but her and Potter? Jesus Fucking Kardashian.”
“I feel ya,” Sirius says, handing the flask back. It disappears back into somewhere. “Do you want to go look upstairs? We’re allowed to. I live here.”
“Nah. I mean, sounded like James wanted to fuck. Neither of us need to walk in on that.”
All of a sudden, Sirius is very done with this topic of conversation. “I’m going to go check on Lupin,” he says, and turns his back on her. Why is this hitting a nerve, Sirius? Why do you care if James is going to
He doesn’t care to finish the thought.
Remus is draped over the loveseat, and he doesn’t react when Sirius pokes his cheek, so Sirius climbs over him to sit on the seatback. “Lupin,” Sirius sighs. No response. “I feel like I’m going crazy. James is off with Evans and I just…I just hate it, I hate it and I don’t know why I hate it because I love James and I…like…Evans and I love James and…” He sighs again. “I love James. Remus, I think I love James like, for real love him. Or maybe I don’t. I don’t know. Like, would I shag him? Yes, obviously. He’s James, and he looks like that. It’s like, I can’t imagine my life without him. What if he and Evans get married?” He buries his face in his hands. “When I think about getting married, it only makes sense to marry James. How can I get married to him if he’s already married to her?” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “And I can absolutely never tell him any of this, because he’ll think I’m creepy, or he’ll say it’s fine but really it’s not fine and it never will be fine because I’m that arse who fell in love with his best friend and made everything complicated and everyone knows that only works out for straight people and even then that’s not a guarantee. Oh my god, why have I done this?”
“You’re so fucking stupid,” Remus mumbles, and Sirius just about jumps out of his skin.
“You’re awake?” he hisses.
“Yes, I’m awake,” Remus says, propping himself up on his elbow, “you woke me up with your crisis.”
“I need…to…uhhh…leave…”
“Alright,” Remus says. “Want me to pretend I was too drunk to remember this conversation tomorrow?”
“Yes please.”
Remus lowers himself back down and says, “You’re literally the stupidest person I know.”
12:25
“Everyone who’s already eighteen, back the fuck off!” James shouts, and spins around a few times with his arms out to make sure no one’s in his space. “McKinnon,” he says, and points, “you’re with me.”
Call Me Maybe fades out, and Sirius thinks he’s going to murder James for benching him during ABBA. Frank looks put out, too, but at least he has the rugby boys to bitch with. Remus is still passed out, and Peter’s still outside, and fuck, does he really not have any other friends?
He looks over at the rugby boys, and it’s a bit weird to not see his brother among them, but like fuck was he going to let Regulus in here. He spots Evans, with her phone raised, filming the spectacle, and decides his best bet is to scrounge up a permanent marker and draw as many dicks on Remus’ face as he can before the song ends.
Dancing Queen is a pretty long song.
1:01
“Potter,” calls one of the football girls. Sirius doesn’t know any of their names, but he follows James across the room anyway. She has a phone tucked under her ear, and holds out a finger to let him know she won’t be long. “Yep, okay. See you soon.” She looks at James. “Mum brigade is on the way.”
“Oh,” says James. “Is it that late already?”
“Yes,” she (Sarah?) says. “So if you’re going to play Three Lions, play it now.”
“Oh, shit! Yeah. I’ll have it on next.”
She claps his shoulder. “Good fucking lad. I’ll gather the girls.”
“Nice.”
Sirius volunteers to go put it on, because he doesn’t particularly want to get caught in the middle of a circle of football players shouting directly in his ear, and already being on the fringe of the party seems like the only way he’s going to avoid getting sucked into it.
“Privately,” Evans says, sidling up beside him, “I hope football never comes home ever again.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sirius says, and she hands him a disposable coffee cup filled with something that he’s only sure isn’t coffee.
She waits ‘til he has his mouth full (cider? beer? cider and beer?) to say, “Also I let Peter back inside,” and disappears before he can swallow.
He almost chokes, but he doesn’t try to follow her, or find Peter.
He sits down next to the speaker, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes. He wants everyone to leave, wants the party to be over. Wants the party to never have happened. Wants James to quit the football team, wants this fucking song to end.
Wants, he leans against the wall and he wants.
1:58
“Come down here with me,” James whines, holding his arms out. “I think about that small café.”
“You’re a baby,” Sirius says, but he lays down anyway. “This carpet is disgusting.”
“Yeah, as far as I’m aware Baba and Aai have never cleaned it.” He takes Sirius’ hand, entwines their fingers. “I’ll drink afternoon tea afternoon tea – how often is carpet supposed to be cleaned?”
“I have no idea. How do you even clean a carpet?”
“Carpet cleaner and hoovering, I suppose.”
“Wouldn’t it be so funny,” Sirius says, “if this carpet wasn’t actually brown at all and it’s just dirt?”
“I drink sugar with – Sirius that would not be funny at all. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”
“You get sick thinking about McGonagall with her hair down.”
“She’s looked the same since the day I first met her! I don’t want her to ever change! It’s like if your cousin waxed her upper lip, or – or if Remus wore skinny jeans.”
“You’ve never seen Moony’s skinny jeans?”
The look of utter disbelief and upset that James gives him is enough to break him. “I don’t know who he is anymore,” James whispers.
“Hey,” Sirius says, squeezing his hand, “think about it this way. At least Pete has a mullet now.”
James’ smile is so bright it’s hard to look at in the dimness. “Yeah! Hey, yeah!” He stops to giggle. “Mullet. Did you ever catch the mullet in Club Penguin?”
Sirius rolls onto his side to stare at James. “You could do that?”
“Yeah. Remus showed me how to do it in year six.”
“Why didn’t he show me?” Sirius is dangerously close to pouting.
“Well, let’s think…if he didn’t tell you, he mustn’t have been talking to you, so was that when you stole his Take That CDs?”
“No, that was the year before.”
James rolls onto his side as well. “Was it when you and Peter played darts that one time and you got him in the foot?”
“I think that was later.”
“When we had a sleepover and you spilled your sprite all over his sleeping bag and he cried and called his dad to pick him up and you made fun of him at school on Monday for crying despite the fact you sobbed the whole way through Notting Hill?”
“Yeah that sounds like it.” They’re face to face and James’ lips are right there and he wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him so that James knows he means it.
Except Evans flops down on James’ other side and he rolls back onto his back. Sirius watches Evans take James’ hand – the one Sirius isn’t holding he’s still holding why are you still holding his hand
Sirius watches James slip away from him, and it makes him want to cry.
5:30
He wakes up on the floor, and he wakes up with James breathing on his face. He wakes up with the idea that Mr Brightside has been playing for quite a while now, and he wakes up with 151 notifications on his phone, and he wakes up calm. He doesn’t stay that way, though, because almost as soon as he registers James he registers Evans, with an arm and a leg draped over him. Sometime since they fell asleep, Sirius let go of James’ hand, or James let go of Sirius’ hand, or Evans waited ‘til they were both out and maliciously ripped their hands apart, because he’s never woken up next to James Potter not holding his hand.
He kisses James’ forehead, feather-light, and then he sits up. Remus is still on the loveseat, and Peter’s curled up on the floor by the loo, but everyone else has cleared off, and Sirius is glad; the den looks like it’s been hit by a hurricane, and he couldn’t deal with people on top of that.
When he goes upstairs, the kitchen light is on, and this time he doesn’t wait for Euphemia to call him in.
“Good morning, beautiful boy,” she says, and pulls another mug from the shelf for him. “How was your night?”
His voice is husky when he says, “Aai,” but Euphemia doesn’t have time to notice as she crosses the kitchen in two quick strides and wraps him up in a hug. He cries into her shoulder for as long as he dares, and she rubs his back and massages his scalp until he pushes away because the saucepan is starting to bubble over. “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says. She shoots him a look over her shoulder that says fat chance.
“Everything will work out,” she says, as she pours the tea into the mugs.
“How can you know?” he asks, taking the mug she offers.
“I’m your mother,” she smiles, and pats his cheek. “Aai knows. Now take that up to bed with you, and when you wake up, everything will seem a little better. Okay?”
He nods. Things already seem a little better, with the warmth of the mug, and the warmth of a mother’s love. He kisses her cheek, takes a sip of his chai, and then he goes to bed.
It's here! My new canon jily multi-chap which I promise I am going to stick with. I already have five chapters written so hopefully updates will also be regular for a while. This has been a long time coming and is my interpretation of events in the Marauders and Lily's lives from sixth year onwards.
I have to thank Cara @dearprongs Ana @htcake Jayne @apalapucian and Bonnie @steeveharrington for all their help on this fic. It wouldn't be what it is without them <3 A special big thanks to Ana because she has been the most helpful and thorough beta, helping with all the technical language stuff as well as everything else.
But yeah... I think that's everything. Let my know what you think!
- R x
canon: sixth year | word count: 4.6k | ao3: read here
Cokeworth, August 1976
Even the breeze is warm and Lily feels it everywhere, lifting her dress up, tugging at her hair, turning the pages of Witch Weekly. She can feel the sun burning through her eyelids but she doesn’t want to move, not yet. Up here, on the only hill in Cokeworth, it’s just her. She can finally breathe. Up here, she’s the only person in the world and she can pretend that all she has to worry about is staying cool. The feeling of relief won’t last. She knows it won’t, but it’s nice to have it, just for a second.
At the end of fifth year all she wanted was for summer to come and now, all she wants is September 1st to hurry up. She needs to get out of Cokeworth. Away from Petunia who has dragged out moving to London for weeks. Away from all the places she and Sev used to call theirs, where they would sit and chat for hours about Hogwarts and magic and make plans with stars in their eyes about how they would travel around Europe together, just like all the other witches and wizards before them. Away from the illness that takes a little bit more of her mum every day, hurting her dad too. It hurts to see him losing her when she can’t do anything about it. Cokeworth used to be home. When she was a child, Lily thought that it was the best place in the world, the only place that mattered. Now it hurts to be here.
“Lily?” She snaps upright, and for a second wishes she’d never left her room this morning. Her house is the one place Sev hasn’t approached all summer. Everywhere else has been fair game to him. The park where they first met. The grocers where he’d follow her around the aisles as she picked up food for her mum. The graveyard where he’d wait for her on Sundays to come out from the service. He’s been everywhere. Like a disease. A disease which stabs her every time she looks at its cause.
“No.” Lily stands before he can step any closer, scooping up her magazine and shoes, holding them to her chest like a shield. Her wand is tucked into the waistband of her underwear and she regrets that choice too.
Sev stands frozen a few feet away, robes as black as the coal that Lily’s father mines. “I just want –“
“I don’t care. I’ve told you a thousand times already, Severus. I don’t care.” She’s not sure who it hurts more.
“Can’t you just listen?” Desperation drips over his words. The lump in her throat tightens. But she can’t.
“I don’t want to listen.” The breeze blows his robes up and she sees the new hem of his trousers, stitched shoddily, without care. It’s so familiar, so him that it almost makes her want to listen. Almost. “We aren’t friends anymore. I never should have been friends with you in the first place.”
“You don’t know what’s –“
“And do you know what’s happening? To people like me? To people you call mudbloods, to people you think are dirty, lesser than you?” She spits every syllable, wishing that almost-feeling hadn’t happened, wishing it was easy to hate him. It was, in a way, but he knew so much of her and she knew so much of him. “Your friends are killing them Sev, and killing muggles too, for sport. Maybe it’ll be my parents in The Daily Prophet tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t let –“
Lily laughs bitterly now, at him, the idea of him having any sway so ridiculous that even he doesn’t believe himself. “It’s over Sev. We aren’t friends.” She turns quickly, not wanting him to get another word in and runs down the hill, the ground hard and hot under her feet. Every step makes her sweat, every step gets her further away from him. She doesn’t look behind her to see if he’s following, just runs until she hits the pavement and then stops, feet burning on the tarmac. She drops her shoes and steps into them, trying to catch her breath.
Her back is wet with sweat, her dress sticking to her like it has been all summer. Every movement is hot and sticky.
The sun taunts her as she walks home and now she lets herself cry, licking the tears away when they reach her lips. Summer is too much, Sev is too much, home is too much.
11 days Evans, then you’re out, she tells herself. 11 days and then you’re out.
“Lily? Is that you?” her Mum calls from the kitchen as the porch door shuts behind her and Lily debates turning around and walking back out.
She can’t, though. “Yes Mum, it’s me.”
“Where have you been?”
“The hill,” she says as she walks into the kitchen, not surprised to find her mum at the stove and her dad sitting at the table, crossword in front of him.
“You didn’t tell us you were going out,” he says without looking up.
“I told Mum,” Lily says.
There’s a pause then her mum says quietly, “Sorry love, must have slipped my mind.”
“It doesn’t matter, she’s back now.” Her dad is looking at her now, staring at her over his glasses, and Lily thinks he’s probably wondering if he should have just stuck with having one child.
“I’ll write a note next time.” It’s an apology, sort of, and he nods and then pulls out the chair next to him. “Come help me with this whilst your mum finishes tea. I’m stuck.”
All Petunia needs to cause a fight these days is just to be there, so Lily takes the high road when she comes through the front door and promptly stuffs a forkful of mash potato into her mouth.
“You started without me?” Petunia asks from the doorway, affronted. Lily is tempted to roll her eyes. Of course they started without her, she’s an hour late.
“You said you’d be back at five and it’s gone six, love,” her dad tries to reason softly. Lily watches Petunia consider this, and then wonders how her parents can stand her recently. She never used to be like this. So… entitled. At least Lily gets to leave. They’ve had to put up with it all year round.
“Yours is hot in the oven, don’t worry, don’t worry.” Her mum leaps up and opens the oven for Petunia to see, trying to appease her. “See?”
Petunia takes a moment then absentmindedly humphs. “Right. Well, Vernon is visiting tomorrow so you better not start without me then!”
Lily almost chokes on her forkful of peas. “What?”
“Vernon is visiting tomorrow,” Her sister says, looking down her nose at Lily whilst she takes off her gloves and sits down. “I thought I told you?”
“You didn’t,” Lily says, looking at her dad and trying not to be accusatory. “No one did.”
“We thought we’d take you two out for tea, love, let Lily stay at home to finish her summer homework. Then there’s not a crowd at the dinner table.”
Oh, thank fuck, Lily holds back a sigh of relief.
“Well, that would be nice, I do think Vernon prefers it when it’s just us,” Petunia sniffs, sickly sweet. Lily wants to kick her under the table. That would wipe away the snooty smile.
Her dad just nods and says, “perfect.”
“That’ll be lovely.” Her mum smiles. Lily wonders if her mum can remember that Vernon is a knob or if she’s just pretending for all their sakes.
Lily’s dad waits for her mum to sit back down then says, carefully, “will you be going back to London with him?”
“Yes,” Petunia replies, as if it’s obvious.
“Well, do you think he’d mind giving us a lift too? It means we don’t have to buy two sets of train tickets.”
Petunia looks at her dad as if he’s asked Vernon to cut his toenails. “Why are you going to London?” Her furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips make her look almost a decade older than she really is.
“Lily needs to get her school things, doesn’t she?” Her dad clears his throat. “We’ve already left it quite late.” He smiles at Lily and Lily smiles back, ignoring Petunia’s sour face across the table.
“I can ask… I don’t know if he’ll say yes. And we’re taking the last of my things back too, so there might not be room.”
Vernon’s car is too big for its own good and they all know it. But her dad just nods, and asks someone to pass the gravy.
When the doorbell rings the next night, Lily turns off the TV set and runs upstairs so she doesn’t have to deal with the prick for even a second. His booming voice fills the house and, in retaliation, she turns her cassette player up too loud.
It hurts her ears and she lets it, flopping onto her bed too hard and then jumping right back up when she sees an owl sitting on her desk.
“What the –“ Lily turns the music down, not wanting to hurt the owl’s ears. She takes a second to realise that it must have come in through the open window. It hoots softly at her and sticks its leg out. There’s a small envelope attached, and a muggle stamp in the corner, which seems very pointless given the method of delivery. She unties the envelope, giving the owl a few strokes, and apologises that she doesn’t have any snacks. The owl hoots, less softly, and flies to sit on top of her wardrobe. Clearly whoever has written is expecting a reply.
Vernon’s voice drifts up from the living room, but Lily’s too distracted now too care that he’s lingering instead of making sure they make the reservation. As Suzi Quatro tells her to come alive, Lily breaks the envelope’s seal and pulls out the parchment inside. She sees the handwriting, looks back at the owl, and then – “Of course. Idiot.”
Dear Evans,
Please read this before you throw it in the bin. I never said sorry last term for what happened and I wanted to but I didn’t know if you wanted me to. So I didn’t and that was stupid because I should have. Hopefully this letter will show you that I am sorry and that I was sorry and I probably will be sorry until I die.
Snape called you a you-know-what and he shouldn’t have and that doesn’t make what I did okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry he called you that too. Neither of us should have done what we did that day. I thought it was my place to defend you and it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have asked you out either. I don’t know why I did. It was an in-the-moment thing, I think. All I know is that I wasn’t thinking at the time, obviously, and thinking about it now is painful because it was such a class arse thing to do. Godric would be ashamed. Sirius told mum about it and she threw a spatula at me.
But yeah, I’m sorry, and I hope you’re okay.
Enjoy the rest of your summer, see you at school.
James
P.S. I told Babbity not to wait for a reply, but she’s a big fan of bread, so if she’s hanging around, that’ll be why
Lily reads the letter once, twice and then looks at Babbity on top of her wardrobe, and wonders if the owl would tell James if she threw it in the bin. She doesn’t want to throw the letter in the bin, she’s just considering all her options. One option is replying. Except she has no idea what she would say. She reads the letter again, just to make sure she hasn’t misread any of his scrawl. And it is a scrawl, a messy, languid scrawl that means almost all of his essays have to be rewritten so the professors can actually read them. Lily thinks of him sitting in his room writing the letter. Did he have to rewrite it? Did he do drafts? Was his bin full of scraps of paper, like in the films, with half-started and half-hearted versions he just couldn’t get right? Does she care? Did he get halfway through and realise no one but him would be able to read it? Does she care?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells Babbity when she realises that she’s been standing in the middle of her room, rereading the letter for a good four of Suzi’s songs. “I don’t care. I don’t.”
Babbity cocks her head, ruffles her feathers and hoots. Probably asking for bread. Lily looks at the letter, her name, Evans, taking up half a line in his handwriting. Then she tells herself to stop being such a fucking flannel, Evans, throws the letter on her desk, and tells Babbity, who is incredibly judgemental for an owl, that she’ll be back in a minute with some bread. At least this gets her a happy hoot.
Downstairs the trumpet that is Vernon’s voice is even louder but Lily heads straight for the kitchen, grabs a slice of bread from the bread basket and jogs back upstairs before it gives her a headache. She looks up at the wardrobe to find that Babbity has moved from her original perch and is now on Lily’s desk, pecking at her Prefect badge. “What are you, a magpie?” Lily asks, quickly tearing the bread into small pieces and making a mental note to clear the crumbs up later. Babbity loses all interest in the badge immediately and Lily picks it up out of harm’s way.
Sirius told mum about it and she threw a spatula at me… James’ words stroll back through her head and she sighs, rubbing her finger over the badge’s shiny surface. His mum knows about her, that he asked her out. Does she care?
It annoys her, the question, repeating itself over and over, squeezing out the memory she’s been trying all summer to forget. Does she care? She knows the answer, or she thinks she does, except she doesn’t really know at all, does she.
“Lily?” Her dad knocks on the door, and Lily jumps, not having heard him on the stairs. “We’re just about to leave, just wanted to let you know.”
“I thought your reservation was at eight?” She asks, looking at her watch as she goes to meet him on the landing. It’s half past.
Her dad shrugs. “You know what Vernon is like.”
“Unfortunately,” she says, not thinking. He shakes his head but laughs too, looking only vaguely disapproving.
“We’ll be back by eleven hopefully. Make sure you’re not hurting your ears,” he says as he nods to the cassette player. “I’ve written the restaurant’s number down in case there’s an emergency.”
“Thanks dad. Have a good time.” She gives him a dutiful hug, dragging it out for a second longer than she would normally, and he gives her a kiss on the forehead.
“Don’t wreck the house,” he says after, over his shoulder in way of a goodbye.
“I’ll try not to. Bye mum!” Lily leans over the bannister, purposefully not acknowledging Vernon, whose thick neck bulges over his collar as he looks up at her from the hallway, frowning.
Her mum waves then is hurried out of the house by Petunia. Lily watches them go, flipping Vernon off once his back is turned. The front door shuts after her dad and Lily waits for the roar of Vernon’s car to start before going back into her room.
“Finished?” she asks Babbity, who just looks at her, picks up the last piece of bread in her beak, ruffles her wings and then soars out the open window, disappearing into the dark sky. The force of the owl’s flight knocks the letter off her desk and Lily crouches to pick it up, placing it and her prefect badge carefully on top of last year’s books. Her name in his handwriting screams at her so she just turns her music back up and drowns it out.
The front door opens again a little past midnight and Lily can hear her parents shushing each other as they come up the stairs. Her light is off and she pretends to be asleep when her mum pokes her head in to check.
“She’s fine,” her dad reassures from behind her mum, in the corridor and Lily waits for the floorboard outside their bedroom door to creak before opening her eyes again. Vernon and Petunia come up the stairs a few seconds later, and they’re much less concerned about waking Lily up. Vernon’s feet sound like bricks every time he steps and it’s only when Petunia’s door shuts behind them that his voice, complaining about how dry the chicken was, is muffled. Although at the time it had been horrible, Lily’s glad that she and Petunia had been given separate rooms when Lily returned from her first year at Hogwarts.
She imagines the havoc it would cause if they were still sharing and Vernon was relegated to the sofa.
A few minutes later the house falls quiet again and Lily pulls her magazine from under the covers. Witch Weekly had generally never been considered highly political or even worth reading by a lot of witches and wizards she knows. It’s known for waxing lyrical about quidditch players and advertising the latest cleaning potion, not strong political stances. Lily had thought the same until a few months ago when she’d flicked to the back and found a list of all the wizard and muggle disappearances that were believed to be linked to the Dark Arts. There was no commentary, no accompanying article. Just three columns of names, ordered by the date they were reported missing. It was too many names and it wasn’t enough, was never going to be enough, to simply be reading the list. It’s all Lily can do though, for now.
Read the list, commit the names to memory and wait.
Vernon’s car is a monster and yet it still feels too small with all five of them squashed in, Lily wedged between her dad and her sister in the back. The radio is barely audible over the engine, which Lily doesn’t really mind because Afternoon Delight is playing again, for the third time since they left Cokeworth, and she’s not sure if she’d be able to handle it full volume. No one is talking because, well. They have nothing to talk about.
Any appropriate topics of conversation were probably worn out at dinner last night and no one’s about to ask Lily if she’s excited to return to her magic school when Vernon is in the car. When Petunia had introduced Lily to him, she’d pulled her aside first and sternly informed her that Vernon believed Lily attended a strict, all-girls boarding school in Scotland for young women who needed guidance. What sort of guidance has never been made clear. The general fib the Evans family stuck with was that Lily attended a posh, private school in Scotland which accepted five scholarship students a year and weren’t they lucky to have such a clever daughter? Clearly, Petunia was not a fan of this version.
Lily notices Vernon looking at her in the rearview mirror now, eyebrows creased together as if he too is unsure of what guidance his girlfriend’s sister needs. She smiles sweetly at him. Then she rests her head on her dad’s shoulder and tries to sleep.
She’s shaken awake later and opens her eyes to see that the countryside is long behind them. They’re stopped in a bus bay just beneath the Charing Cross street sign. “Come on Lils, there’s a bus coming,” her dad says, hurrying her out. Her parents are already on the pavement and Petunia is in the front seat, trying to justify why the only place that Lily can get her uniform from is in London.
“Thank you,” Lily says as she scrambles out. There’s a grunt in reply then the car is roaring away again. Lily and her parents have to dive back as the bus pulls in and a swarm of commuters and tourists tumble out.
She grabs her mum’s hand and leads the way out of the melee, her feet instinctively carrying her towards The Leaky Cauldron. It sticks out like a sore thumb to her, but she knows that to everyone else it’s just the weird gap between buildings. McGonagall had helped her parents see it on their first visit and, ever since, they’ve been privy to its existence.
“Ready?” she asks her mum over her shoulder, checking that her dad isn’t far behind. Her mum smiles excitedly. The illness is nowhere to be seen, not even hidden in her new wrinkles. There’s a steady stream of witches and wizards walking through the pub’s door and they join the queue, behind a family struggling to keeps its youngest member calm. Newly eleven, Lily guesses.
“Remember that?” her mum asks, squeezing Lily’s hand.
Lily grins. “I couldn’t wait. McGonagall had to ask me to be quiet because she was worried I was drawing too much attention.”
“You were,” her dad chimes in, ruffling her hair.
“I can’t believe you’re going into your sixth year already.” They both beam at her and Lily thinks their smiles could power her for the rest of her life.
“And top of my class,” she winks, trying to disguise her blush.
“Intelligence,” her dad notes with a solemn face. “It’s a family gene.”
“Not from your side,” her mum says as she nudges him in the stomach and Lily wishes this moment could last forever. They reach the door then and shuffle through, all breathing a sigh of relief as cool air replaces the thick humidity of London. There’s no way that the temperature isn’t being magically controlled and Lily is grateful all over again for this wonderful world she’s lucky enough to be a part of.
“Please no dawdling! Lots of traffic today, Hogwarts students please go through. No dawdling!” Someone is calling from the back of the pub and they follow the sound. “Peak time, peak time, Hogwarts students please go through.” It’s Tom, the landlord, and he looks exhausted. “No dawdling!”
They join the queue at the back of the pub and, in no time, have been herded through the archway. “Good to see we aren’t the only ones leaving it to the last minute!” her dad jokes as they’re swept up in the crowd.
Diagon Alley is bustling as always except, compared to when Lily visited at the beginning of the summer with Mary, there’s a lot more people her age and younger and a lot of names being called. She loves it. Everywhere she turns someone is carrying a cauldron full of books or the latest broomstick or a cage making noises she can’t quite name. The fear she’d woken up with this morning of possibly bumping into the Slytherins or, worse, Potter, is replaced with excitement and she can’t help the smile on her face.
Her mum pulls the list from her bag and they start shopping, spending longer than necessary in every shop because they all want to look at what’s new. Lily is stopped every few minutes by friendly faces and students she’d helped pass Potions or Charms at some point. Her parents’ smiles grow wider with every hello and wave until Lily is worried their faces will break.
Her friends and dormmates have all done their shopping already, able to get to London much more easily with at least one parent being magic. Lily had been upset at first that she wouldn’t be seeing them but being with her parents is just as nice. It’s only ten days until they’ll all be back on the Hogwarts Express together anyway.
“Don’t be fooled Evans.” Hot breath tickles her neck and she spins, hand ready to jump to her hair where her wand is keeping it in a bun. Avery leers over, her turning a pack of Exploding Snap cards in his hands over and over again. Her heart races and she looks desperately around for her parents. They’re on the other side of the shop, watching a demonstration of Gobstones. They’re safe.
“Having a good summer, Avery?” she asks, meeting his gaze without flinching. He can't do anything here. Not in Diagon Alley.
“Don’t expect special treatment anymore, Evans. You’re filthy,” he sneers. “Snape won’t protect you now, your time is coming.”
Lily’s hand twitches, “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She steps around him, “See you at school.”
He doesn’t follow.
As soon as she’s stepped into another aisle she lets her breath out, sagging against the shelves.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
Avery doesn’t scare her, not when they’re in public and he wouldn’t be able to do anything without causing chaos. Avery hadn’t ever scared her. What does frighten her is his confidence, what his words meant. It’s getting worse, growing, spreading like an infestation. When rumours first started spreading that something was happening, that someone was building an army, that he was as strong and powerful as Grindewald, she hadn’t understood. She’d been too young, too new to the world and its history.
All the wars she’d learnt about in primary school had been fought with guns, tanks, and planes. Not wands and creatures. Magic. None of them had lasted this long without any real battles. No leader had waited this long to actually start something instead of just threatening it. They’d all ended too, within a few years. Lily knows this one hasn’t even begun properly. He’s still preparing. They call him the Dark Lord and revere him as a god. Lily isn’t sure if she believes in God, any god, but she knows he isn’t one.
She counts to ten, pushing Avery to the back of her mind with every number, and then goes to find her parents. The shopping is all done and they’re all weighed down with books so she suggests they go for an ice cream then head home. They ask if she’s okay and she forces a yawn for their benefit. Lily doesn’t want to let Avery ruin their day but now that she knows he’s there she can’t help but want to protect her parents. And the best way to protect them is to get them out of Diagon Alley and back into London, the muggle side.
On the train back, two hours later, Lily watches the city turn to country. Then back to city. Then country… county… country and then Cokeworth; home, the factory’s chimney rising up in the distance. Her parents are still doing the crossword together and she’s been pretending to read her new Potions book but she hasn’t been able to focus. Ten days and the view from the window will be country, country, country then her second home, Hogwarts.
Ten days, and she’ll be back with her friends, and her parents will be alone. With her at school, there will be no one to protect them.
Her thoughts run before she can stop them.
Maybe it’ll be my parents tomorrow.
You’re filthy.
Enjoy the rest of your summer...
She lingers on that one. It is, decidedly, a much nicer thought than everything else. She won’t think about Sev or Avery. Not anymore, not till she’s back in Hogwarts. She’ll spend the next ten days with her parents, hot, sweating, happy, safe.
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stay here, honey (i don’t wanna share).
lily thinks james should buy the girl in the corner a drink. for rhi. ❤
In hindsight, hitting a swanky London bar on a Saturday night is probably not the best idea.
It’s evident that most of the people filling up the place are there looking to hook up with someone; gorgeous women throw coquettish smiles at eligible bachelors who eagerly buy them drinks, an investment for a chance at something more a little later in the night.
Lily would have felt out of place here in her sensibly heeled boots, jeans and simple shirt, even on a good night. But tonight, after a raid that had left her and her partner a little worse for wear, she feels particularly discomfited. She plays with the singed hem of her right sleeve, poking at a newly burned hole until it widens and she can slip her entire finger through.
Yep. She really should have hit the hay once they had cleared their mission.
But James had said he needed a drink and… well, they were partners, right?
She glances towards him. His normally messy hair looks even more dishevelled than usual and his clothes are peppered with scorch marks and holes like hers. A couple of nasty cuts have scabbed over in the hour since they left headquarters, but his hazel eyes are still bright and aware, scanning the room. And as tired as she is, she knows him well enough now to read his unguarded expression. He looks rather envious as he checks out the couples forming around the bar.
He had said he wanted a drink, but really he had wanted…
Oh.
Her eyes drop to his hands, swirling his glass of whisky before he raises it to his lips to take a sip. Finally noticing that she had been surveying him, he gives her a contented smile.
Except she knows there is no way he could be content just sitting here on a Saturday night with her.
Well, Lily is his partner, and a damned good one, too. She knows what needs to be done. Picking up her own wineglass to have a drink, she quickly assesses the room. By the time she puts her glass back down on the table, she’s made her decision.
“James, do you see that blonde girl in the corner? In the dark green dress?”
He flicks his eyes towards the corner, then turns them back to her. “What about her?”
She takes another sip of wine. “You should buy her a drink.”
He coughs. “I should do what now?”
“You should buy her a drink,” she repeats calmly. At the incredulous expression on his face, her tone turns insistent. “Really. I think she looks like your type.”
He smirks and leans back in his chair. “Since when have you known my type?”
“I know you,” she replies, “so I know what type of woman would suit you.”
He leans forward, still smirking, “I don’t have a type.”
“Yes, you do,” she retorts. “Everyone has a type.”
“Not me.”
“Not even a bit of a type?”
He pauses. “Okay, maybe a bit of a type…”
“Thank you,” she raises her glass towards him in self-congratulations. He turns towards the corner to study the woman a little more closely. His body language screams that he is still unwilling to approach her, so Lily puts a reassuring hand on his. Immediately, his attention is back on her.
“Here’s the thing, James,” Lily rubs small circles on the back of his hand. “You’re single and you don’t want to be. Or at the very least you didn’t want to be alone tonight. Why else did you want to come here?”
He lets out a sardonic laugh. She waits for him to counter her, to deny it, but he doesn’t.
“So go buy the girl a drink,” she gives his hand a final tap and lets go, but James still makes no move to stand up, so she teases, “Do my eyes deceive me, or is the mighty James Potter nervous about picking up a girl in a bar?”
“What? No, that’s not—”
“Then let’s go, Potter!” She stands and, eventually, a resigned James follows suit. “Let me be your wingman tonight! … Or is it ‘wingwoman’?”
“I don’t think it makes much difference,” James mutters. He unenthusiastically trails behind her as she practically skips towards the blonde in the corner. She hopes that this unorthodox introduction doesn’t put the girl off. After all, James is a great guy.
She stands directly in front of the blonde, who has not noticed their arrival. “Hi!” Lily greets loudly.
The woman finally looks up. “Uhh… hello.” Her smile is polite but confused.
“I noticed you sitting here alone and, well, I know this is a bit weird, but can my friend buy you a drink?” She hears James groan behind her and she elbows him sharply in the stomach.
It’s the woman’s turn to survey James. Lily knows that she’ll like what she sees; after all, James is very handsome, if in a slightly unconventional way, with warm, kind eyes and a great smile. Of course, all the training they had been put through also meant that his body was in fine form. She feels slightly tempted to tell him to turn around so the woman can see his—
The woman interrupts her thoughts with a very fair question. “And why are you asking? Can't your friend ask himself?”
“Yes, I can,” James says defensively. He steps out from behind Lily and smiles sheepishly, showing off his deep dimples. “May I buy you a drink?”
The blonde still looks hesitant, but her curiosity seems to win out. “Sure, I guess I could do with another drink.”
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” she winks at James then mouths, “Best. Wingwoman. Ever.”
She tries hard, really hard, not to sit and stare from across the room because it’s pretty creepy, except… well, she’s curious and she’s not particularly good at the stealth thing yet.
(She’s working on it, just not tonight.)
While she started off feeling rather gleeful watching them, it slowly morphs into a more unpleasant emotion, one she is trying really hard not to define. After all, she knows that James is a fantastic guy and that the woman would have to be mad to not even give him a chance. But to watch another woman giggle at his ridiculously stupid jokes… and to lean eagerly towards him… and to twirl her hair seductively around her finger… and run a heeled foot up his leg…
Honestly, a partner can only take so much.
It is to her utter surprise, then, that James stands, says something to the woman, who now looks rather displeased, and strolls back over to her. She gapes at him as he retakes his seat and picks up his original glass of whisky.
“What happened? I thought you two were getting along really well.” A little too well, Lily thinks to herself.
“We were,” he replies, taking a sip.
“Then…”
“I wanted to finish this drink.”
“But…”
“Lily,” James interrupts, “did I say I wanted to hook up with someone tonight?”
“Well, no…”
“I told you I wanted to get a drink with you, so here I am, with my drink and you.” He raises his glass towards her, then downs the remaining liquid.
Part of her feels like she’s the one who just downed half a shot of whisky, but she knows the warm feeling in her stomach has more to do with the man sitting next to her than any amount of alcohol she’d had that night.
“Well,” she plays with the rim of her wineglass, suddenly coy, “what did you say to her when you left?”
“I told her the truth,” he says vaguely.
She presses insistently, “Which was…?”
“That I thought she was an amazing woman, but that I already had an amazing woman I planned on spending the evening with.”
Oh.
“So when you said you wanted to get a drink with me,” she muses aloud, “you meant you wanted to get a drink… with me.”
He smiles. “Yes, with you.”
Oh.
She hesitates briefly, then sculls the rest of her wine. James watches, bemused.
“Looks like we finished our drinks,” she says pointedly.
Comprehension flashes across his features. “Looks like,” he replies casually.
“Looks like now it’s just you and me.”
His eyes twinkle. “Looks like.”
She pauses, unsure how to propose her plans for the rest of their evening together.
James can no longer hide his amusement. Standing up, he teases, “Looks like you’re the worst wingwoman ever.”
If the role of a wingwoman was to hook James up with some other girl this evening, then she had failed rather spectacularly. But when James takes her hand in his and pulls her towards him, she can’t seem to bring herself to care.
i was at the farm with bonnie at the weekend and she said that geese are just ‘’hench swans’’ whats ur expert opinion
bonnie is very wise and correct. sometimes swans need someone smaller, uglier and dumber to take over the chaos and aggression whilst they swim majestically in peace. this is why swans in 1645 decided to breed geese in the first place i believe
a late bday fic for @jamesandlilyaredead <3 (9445 words, read on ao3)
Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. But James works in a coffee shop, and every time he sees colour there’s an annoying customer there too (AKA a coffee shop and soulmate au fic in one because i have no chill).
“One frozen mocha to go!”
It’s second nature to him now, as quick and easy as breathing. In one swift movement, James grabs hold of the milk carton, ready to pour it into the blender. He hears the door to the cafe open, a chilly breeze ruthlessly following a handful of students who scrabble inside as it begins to rain.
It’s then that it happens. The milk drops to the floor as he stares, perplexed, at the colour of his hand. It’s like the weight of an avalanche crumbles on top of him, an invisible weight pressing hard on his shoulders. Before he even realises, his legs are like jelly and he’s falling.
“James? Are you alright?” a voice asks.
He feels a hand pressed against his back, the sound of someone’s concerned voice muffled against his ear. He tries to say something, but all he can manage is an intense gasp for air as his legs shake once more.
He can see.
Not that he couldn’t before… but he can see.
Colours are everywhere, blinding and intense. They’re beautiful, so vibrant that it’s making his head spin.
He’s staring at white tiles, chestnut coloured cabinets. It feels like he’s on fire and, more than anything, he wishes he could stand, to just look around the place to see who is making him like this.
Of course, he’s read the stories like everyone else. Lullabies that dated back long before they even had a name. Fairy-tales of people who, like everyone else, saw the world in a lens, the colour of life squeezed out. There was only one person who could help to retrieve that colour back into your life.
A soulmate.
James blinks, his heart now slowing to a calm, even beat. He breathes in deeply, relishing the peaceful feeling that washes over him. The owner of the hand speaks again and rubs the place between his shoulder blades tentatively, asking if he needs an ambulance.
He shakes his head, finally looking up at Remus.
“Can you stand?” Remus asks, taking hold of James’ shaking hand and pulling him to his feet. He wobbles for a split second and reaches out to grasp hold of the counter with both arms. His fingers grip onto the support for dear life.
Who?
He swallows, a nauseating bubble rippling throughout his intestines and threatening to shoot up his throat. He breathes in, counting to ten. Slow and easy, he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the wooden counter and cautiously glances around cafe.
The colours are dazzling; blues, reds, greens, all different shades and intensities. They're all so vivid and intense that it feels like the ground’s shaking beneath him. The place is heaving with students, all wet due to the unexpected stormy April shower and James tries to look at as many as he can, searching desperately for someone who seems just as unsettled and surprised as him.
Everyone seems normal. How can that be? Colour’s just flown into every crevice of their being… and they don’t care?
There are too many voices, people ordering, grabbing their coffees and other beverages and talking aimlessly with one another. Amidst the chatter and the whirring noises from the coffee machines, the sound of the door opening reaches his ears. A freezing wind enters, the chilly kind that makes the hairs on his arms stand up on edge.
And then, just like that, his world is drained of colour.
The door closes shut and it’s like time pauses around him.
It’s shattering, to see the colour fade and vanish so brutally and without warning.
He’s moving in an instant, ignoring Remus and his concerned questions which he brushes off with a shake of his head. He’s dodging through the large mass of students, speech failing him as he finally makes it to the door and flings it open. The rain’s pouring down with no mercy and it seems that fate has none either.
The person has vanished. The person, his soulmate.
“James!” Remus is by his side, grabbing his arm softly as he shuts the door. “Are you mad? Your feet are soaked now.”
James can’t speak, he doesn’t know what to say. His throat itches to release a soul-shattering sob; that’s what it feels like, soul-shattering.
He numbly allows Remus to lead him to the staff room, setting him down on his favourite armchair. The cushions sink beneath him and the dull chime of the cedar clock echoes in his head.
“James?” Remus asks again, this time plopping a hot cup of tea into his cold hands.
“It happened, Remus,” he whispers, it’s so painful to speak, like the air has been choked out of his lungs. He’s scared that perhaps it’s all just a dream.
“It?” Remus asks, watching James with a careful gaze. “What was it like?”
James sighs and looks down at his tea, stirring it aimlessly for a few seconds before he takes a small sip. “Unlike anything that’s ever happened before,” he says finally. He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the ends.
“The colours were so perfect and then it was gone. They were gone - they just left and took the colour with them.”
“Which colour was the prettiest?”
“Red,” James says in an instant, a small smile creeping onto his face. His eyes brighten, recalling the feel of it. There’s something about that colour, it made him feel warm.
“All of them, Remus. But red… red was intense.”
The two sit in silence for a few moments. James takes cautious sips of his tea whilst Remus sits and watches his every move. The silence is more reassuring than unsettling, but still Remus tries his best.
“James…” The cafe is still horrendously busy and there’s only so much Peter and Sirius can handle on their own. He wrings his hands together, but James is the one to speak first.
“Do you think… do you think that’s it?”
This time James’ voice is back to normal. No hushed whispers, no desperately needed gasps for breath after each word. The only tell-tale sign is his right hand, his fingers still shaking.
There had been millions of accounts of people seeing colour, from all over the world. And for some that had been it, just the one moment and then they were back to the way they had always been. The colours just slowly faded from their memories like it had never happened.
“Well,” Remus starts, unsure, “if they came to the cafe then they must be a student.” he checks his watch, glancing at the time and date, “I mean, it’s a Wednesday. Student for sure.”
“Unless it’s a teacher, that’d be unfortunate.” James mutters, finally feeling like himself again. He smiles, nods his head and allows Remus’ feeble attempts to give him a slither of hope.
He gulps back the rest of his tea, assuring his friend he’s fine to go back to work.
If he’s meant to see them again then he will. And if he doesn’t then, well, he’d just go on as normal. He'd unwillingly let the memory fade away, just like the colour had.
Classes don’t seem to put his mind at ease at all - he spends the hours doodling in the margins of his notebook, not listening at all to the way Mrs McGonagall lectures on about Biology. And when the two hours are finally up, he jogs all the way back to the coffee shop.
Peter looks up in surprise from his spot at the till.
“Alright? Didn’t think you were working today.”
“Nah, I’m not. But - err - thought you could use some help? Thursdays, mate. Everyone needs a coffee on a Thursday.”
Peter smiles, thankful for the sentiment and James drags himself behind the counter, throwing his white apron on like it’s hot coal in his hands.
He glances up every time he hears the door open, but each time no one brings colour in with them. By the end of the four hour shift he’s in an angry mood and ends up getting a chinese on the way home to ease his feelings.
He spends most of Friday doing the same thing, but on more than one occasion he catches Remus’ gaze and tries to act as normal and as aloof as possible.
That’s when he slices his finger with a cake knife, and spends the remainder of his shift with an angry Remus, a paramedic and a first aid kit.
Saturday, though, is a brand new day.
His finger’s been bandaged, the sun is shining and the weather report says it seems like summer is finally in the air with highs of twenty degrees (rather unusual for mid-April, though no one seems to mind).
So, James decides not to worry. The first few times the door opens he lifts his head up out of habit, but he forces himself to stop. It only makes things harder and the only way to make things better is to focus on something he’s good at, and that’s making darn-good coffee. He even starts humming again, dancing behind the counter to Wham’s Jitterbug.
Then the air stops again and he’s struggling to breathe. He’s staring at sunshine yellow walls and a black coffee machine.
With shaking fingers he reaches out to touch the bright yellow strokes of paint, thoroughly amazed. Then he swallows slowly, pauses the machine, and turns around.
It’s pretty busy; everyone wants ice coffees and smoothies so they can sit outside and bask in the warm sun before it disappears. There’s a group of girls nearest to the door, laughing about something James can’t quite make out. He glances at them one by one but none of them act any differently or give off any feeling. He scowls.
Whoever the person is, they have come back.
“Excuse me,” someone huffs by the counter and clicks their fingers at him rudely, forcing him to turn his head.
A student glares up at him, hands on her hips. Her hair’s an intense shade of red and for a second his heart stops.
“Instead of eyeing up girls could you do your job and ask me what I want?”
James rolls his eyes and swears under his breath. He doesn’t need this right now, annoying customers make him angry. Even if said annoying customer is pretty.
And he’s already angry; someone in this cafe right now is his soulmate. And they’ll go, just like last time. And the moment will pass and he’ll go back to the dull grey once again. He’s got minutes, if that.
The woman clears her throat, waiting.
“Alright,” he says, stomping to the counter, “what do you want?”
He doesn’t care that he’s being rude. She was rude first and he’s not in the best of moods right now.
“A medium mango smoothie to go. With only a handful of ice.”
James sighs, walks towards the fridge and looks for the ingredients. He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips when he notices they’ve ran out of the said fruit.
He turns around with a twirl and tries his hardest to put on a sombre facade. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of mango, terribly sorry about that.”
“Sure you are,” she hums and grabs hold of a menu, drumming her fingernails against the countertop in an annoying beat, “I’ll have…” she trails off, her nails still dancing as she pauses.
“Yes?” James taps his pen against the till, irritated.
“A medium iced coffee then,” she says finally, dropping the menu back onto the counter. “With only a handful-”
“Of ice, got it. And your name?”
“Lily. That’s L-I-L-Y. Not two L’s. Just one.”
He bites his tongue, of course he knows how to spell. How stupid does she think he is?
Remus is on the next till, serving the group of girls who had been by the door. James watches them curiously as he pours the coffee and ice cream into a blender. They’re all acting normal; there’s no spark in their eyes, no sign that they’re experiencing anything. They’re pretty he supposes, but he… he can’t connect.
Would there even be a sign? How can he tell?
His annoying customer clears her throat again and he refrains from rolling his eyes once more. The sooner he works on her damn iced coffee then the sooner she can leave and he’ll be able to try and find them, whoever they were.
A gruelling three minutes later he plonks the beverage down onto the counter.
“That’s £2.35,” his tone is icy and he wishes he’d spat in the stupid beverage as she bites down on the straw and gives it a small sip.
She hands him the exact change without uttering another word, then wraps two serviettes around the plastic cup before picking it up. She narrows her eyes at him and glances at his name tag.
“Thanks James,” she sneers, “great customer service.” Then she’s gone and he couldn’t be any more relieved.
He releases a long, hard breath and looks around the cafe again. The group of girls are leaving, chattering to themselves as Lily lags behind them; the small girl takes tiny steps as they move at a snail's-pace towards the door. The bell chimes and the group and Lily leave the building, a few other students following after her.
He blinks and the colour vanishes with it. James curses and kicks the counter irritably.
Sirius looks over at him in shock and Remus hisses at him to behave. His foot throbs, kicking hadn’t helped at all. And he’s just wasted all his time serving that annoying Lily as his soulmate had just been and gone again, and disappeared right from under his nose.
“So, let me get this straight…” Sirius leans against the table, his long legs stretching out as he cradles a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, “you experienced it and you didn’t tell me? Your best mate?”
James rolls his eyes, mouth curling slightly into a small smile. “It was painful, thank you very much. That much colour to suddenly look at? I had a blinking migraine for a couple of hours afterwards!”
Sirius lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and scratches his chin. “Did you see who it was?”
He shakes his head. “It was too busy. And I had the worst customer too, she was a right bi-”
Remus pokes his head round the door. “Didn’t you notice James almost passed out on the floor? Honestly, I bet his S.M has already clocked on. You weren’t exactly discreet, mate.”
James chucks an empty milk carton and Remus dodges it, laughing like he’s on helium.
“You’re such an arse! It’s painful, okay?”
Sirius sighs dramatically and throws one hand to his head. The other hand reaches out, clutching hard onto James’ shoulder. “But it’s beautiful, right? Beautifully painful?”
“Yeah, go ahead and make fun. I’d like to see how you handle it.”
His friend shrugs a little and balances his teaspoon on his left pinky. “I have,” he says simply.
James chokes on the last few dregs of his hot vimto, catching Remus’ perplexed gaze.
“You have? When?”
Sirius stands there a little awkwardly, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. “It was ages ago. I - we were only seven... we didn’t understand it much at the time.”
“Ruddy hell.”
James doesn’t know what’s more shocking - the fact that Sirius has a soulmate somewhere or that he won’t give away any more details about it. He just picks up his leather jacket, throws it over one shoulder and glances at James’ and Remus’ still surprised faces with another shrug.
“Are we running a coffee shop or what?”
He hates that he chose Biology, of all the sciences, to study at university. He’s already juggling football into the mix and classes start to interfere with his work. He finds he spends more time in the small staff room of the cafe than at the library or at Hogwarts Student’s Union. Plus, he can get free drinks here and put his feet up on the table.
That’s exactly what he’s doing when there’s a knock on the door of the break room.
“Mate,” Sirius knocks again, “I need back up. Remus has class.”
James folds down the corner of his page (anyone who claims they don’t do that is lying), puts his pen behind his ear and zips up his jeans (don’t ask). He’s checking his phone messages as he props the door open with his waist, an apology on his lips as he sets into the cafe.
He blinks and then he’s staring at that annoying customer he had the other day. She’s got red hair and she’s wearing a light brown top as she stares down at the menu. She glances up at the sound of the door and his stomach gives a little jolt when he notices her forest green eyes.
He’s struggling to breathe again, hands shaking as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.
His soulmate’s here and of course Annoying Lily has to ruin it all over again.
“Ah, if it isn’t Barista Of The Year,” she smirks.
Any nice thought is instantly replaced with every and any cuss word he can think of on the spot. He rolls his eyes, pulls down at his apron and glares at Sirius who’s taking her order.
“Be nice, mate, she’s a customer!” Sirius grins, “I’m sorry about Grumpy over there,” he jerks his thumb towards James, who’s now angrily ripping up a cardboard box, “he hates Wednesdays.”
He pulls his eyes away as he hears Lily give out a little laugh, glancing around to see if he can spot his soulmate. There’s about thirteen people and James swears under his breath.
“Make a cherry white hot chocolate for Lily, will ya?” Sirius throws him a bottle of water and James catches it swiftly with one hand.
Lily looks smugly at him, tapping her fingers against the counter expectantly. He’s just turned around, grabbing hold of the semi skimmed milk with a death grip, when he hears her clear her throat a little.
“I wanted to apologise for the other day,” she says with reluctance when Sirius coughs loudly, “I wasn’t in the best of moods and I took it out on you. So - sorry, I guess.”
“Isn’t that nice, mate?” James rolls his eyes again when Sirius claps a hand on his back. “Do you have anything to say back?”
He glances over his shoulder and gives Lily the stinkeye. “Apology accepted.”
She’s huffing, cheeks a little pink as she shakes her head, muttering out an ‘unbelievable’. He only turns around once her hot chocolate is made and he gives her a sheepish grin as he places it in front of her.
“I’m sorry too. I guess.”
Sirius snorts as he takes the order of the next customer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re lucky Remus isn’t here. He’d have you drawn and quartered for being rude to a customer.”
“I’ve got a few more things on my mind right now,” he murmurs quietly, cleaning up a little spillage with a tea towel.
“They’re here? Right now?” Sirius lifts his head in a very inconspicuous manner, eyes raking over each customer like he's in the mafia.
“Something wrong?” Lily asks as she sips at her drink.
“Hey, Lils. You know anyone in here?”
At Sirius’ question she turns around to look. “No one seems familiar. Why?”
“Well James -”
“No reason,” James stomps on Sirius’ foot, instantly silencing him.
“No reason,” Sirius echoes.
She hums, sliding over the exact change for her beverage before sitting down at one of the tables.
James glances around the cafe again.
Apart from Lily, there's a group of three girls over in the corner giggling at a laptop, a guy with a beard who's talking animatedly on his phone, two girls and a guy all collectively on their phones as they sit together (they’ve hardly spoken at all since they arrived) and a guy who must be about fifty five talking to a woman of similar age. Plus another five or so who aren’t even facing him.
He grimaces and scribbles down everyone's appearances in the margins of his notepad. This time he's not going to give up as easily.
After an hour the colour is starting to get too much to handle, he’s got a head-splitting migraine.
“I can’t,” he whispers to Sirius and shakes his head. He’s already threading his arms through his jacket. “I need to get out. Fresh air.”
It’s almost a relief to see the different shades of grey when he steps out onto the street. It’s empowering to know that, this time, he’s the one who’s taken the colour away. He lets out a sigh and kicks at an empty bottle on the road.
He doesn’t look back.
It’s Peter who notices the pattern first.
Wednesdays at three thirty, give or take a few minutes. Every Wednesday. There’s quite a number of regulars but, unfortunately for him, Lily is always showing up too.
“You make good coffee,” she shrugs the next time he sees her.
And the time after that Remus is there. It turns out the two share a class together and they spend hours talking about their essay that’s due in on Friday.
Her hair is always the first thing he notices, dangerously bold and enticing. He supposes she’s not so bad once you get to know her.
A couple of weeks later, Lily asks if James can read over her essay (apparently some people actually have their work checked, which is news for him) and he says yes in a heartbeat.
“Are you sure?” she asks as she places her laptop on a table close to the window.
James takes off his apron and throws it over the back of the chair. It’s a pointless question, since she’s already asked him the same thing about twenty times.
“Totally. But I’m a sucker for the oxford comma. Just a forewarning.”
She’s rolling her eyes as she takes out her purse. “What do you want to drink? It’s on me.”
He peels his eyes away from the screen and squints up at the menu. There’s no Remus today and that leaves Peter and Sirius behind the counter. The two snicker and goof around, juggling oranges and balancing milk lids on their noses.
“I’ll have a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. Extra hot,” he says.
“Aren’t they a bugger to make?”
“The worst.”
“I’m about eighty percent sure Sirius spat in that,” she says when she places the steaming mug on the table next to him five minutes later.
He drinks it anyways (who would have thought such an obnoxious and hipster drink would actually taste pretty good?) and spends the remainder of the day sitting next to Lily. Her essay is impeccable, of course, and each time their arms brush against each other he gets a jolt in his stomach.
Having her at the cafe makes it a lot harder for James to liaise and spy on the other customers. Especially when she and Sirius bond over their love for marmite (how disgusting) during her next visit.
For some reason she’s eating toast and Sirius just blinks at her. “Is that marmite?”
The rest is history and she spends most of her visit that day cooped up on one of the high chairs. They chatter together about their marmite experiences for what seems like hours.
It’s becoming A Problem.
James slowly starts to notice how pretty her smile is. She always spends a good fifteen minutes or so deciding what on earth to order and, more often than not, changes her mind about three times.
On one occasion he asks her, “What do you want? What do you want?” to which she replies back with an exasperated grimace, “It’s not that simple,” then the two get matching, exhilarated grins as they both profess their love for The Notebook.
He’s almost used to seeing the colour so much now but a part of him dares to normalise the feeling, lest it vanish as quick as a heartbeat.
And it’s Wednesday again when a downpour brings in a mass of students.
Lily, yellow and blue spotted umbrella in her hand, is, of course, amidst the thrall. James isn’t even that surprised to see her anymore. Sirius is busy serving another customer, so he gives her a bright smile (which he realises isn’t actually that hard to do) and asks her what she wants.
“I’ll have a Pumpkin Spiced Latte.”
“One of those are you?” he asks, giving Lily a sly smirk as he starts to jot down her order.
“It’s good. Have you never tried it?”
He shakes his head. “Peter’s addicted to it, he made me try it once. Far too sweet,” he says with a grimace.
“That’s what makes it so delicious.”
He doesn’t understand how someone can have such strange taste buds - to think marmite, PSLs and white hot chocolates are all under the denomination of ‘delicious’. But hey - everyone has their own opinions, right? Even if it’s the wrong one.
He’s just turning around, ready to start making her drink when she sucks in a breath. He pauses instantly, already knowing by now what that little intake of breath means.
“What are you wanting to change it to?”
He can’t help but give her an amused smile, watching as she glares at the menu. Biting her chipped nails, fingers drumming against the counter-top. She looks like this is the worst decision she’s ever made.
“I can’t decide between a Pumpkin Spiced Latte or a Pumpkin Spiced Frapp.”
He blinks, “Well. One’s hot - you see - and the other’s cold.”
“Wow, thanks for that. I’d never have guessed.”
She’s smirking and she’s got such a contagious smile, he can feel his lips mirroring hers in seconds. She takes another three minutes before she slaps a fiver onto the counter. “A cold one. I’ll be daring.”
When he places the drink on the counter next to her, he rakes his eyes over the customers behind her. The same group of girls, the same elderly couple, the same bearded man. It has to be one of them.
He’s served them all before, each are nice and unique in character but it’s so hard to figure out which one it is. He’s even tried small talk, but every time he makes it personal they all shrink away. It seems like Lily is the only one in the cafe who ever bothers to talk. And, even then, it’s Sirius who she’s closer too.
He gets a message, phone buzzing against his thigh as he hands over Lily’s change.
Serious to Barista Of The Year (15:37) : stop flirting with customers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“I was not flirting.”
“You know,” Sirius, who’s lounging across one of the sofas with a history book pulled over his face, lets out a small sigh, “I didn’t believe you the first five times, so -”
“I’m only saying it so you know I’m telling the truth!”
Only now does Sirius peel the book away from his face. “Mate. Come on.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You are allowed to, you know,”
“I know I’m allowed to,” James scowls.
“Do you?” Sirius swings his legs onto the floor, his socks have dozens of little hamburgers all over them. “I mean… I know you’re - well - a romantic but having a soulmate doesn’t mean anything.”
“What about you?”
Sirius scratches his chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “What about me?” his voice is gruff.
“You never told me, your best mate, that you saw colour when you were seven. Seven!”
He merely shrugs. “I was seven.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean. Do you still-”
Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, haven’t for ages.”
“What was it like?”
There’s a small period of silence.
Sirius runs a hand through his hair, then he takes a swig of water and flings the now empty bottle up into the air. He catches it with one hand.
“It felt - God, I dunno - natural? We had no idea what it meant, how could we? We were friends, that was it.”
James gets goosebumps.
“What happened?”
“With a swine of a mother like mine?” he snorts, “What didn’t happen. I never saw her again.”
“You could try finding her-”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Half the female population probably have the same name.”
“Jane.”
“No.”
“Sarah?”
“No. Can you stop guessing now?”
“Depends, will you tell me her name?”
Sirius rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Fine. Mary.”
James drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I suppose it is quite a common name. There’s Mary Berry, Mary Poppins-”
“Mary, Queen of Scots.” Sirius adds, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “My point is there’s a heck ton of Mary’s out there. And after a while you get, well - you know.”
The annoying thing is that, even though Sirius hadn’t exactly said much, he did know.
It’s such a strange feeling, one you can’t really put into words. James had spent hours agonising over who it was, tearing himself apart to the point where he couldn’t sleep. And for Sirius to know her and to have gone through life hearing that name on people's lips, he doesn’t know how he can handle it.
It’s a gift, but one that eats away at your insides until it’s all but consumed you. Colour was something James desperately yearned for and whoever they were had the power to give it to them. Just like that, you’re made for each other.
He shuffles on his seat, fingers fluttering to itch at his backside (he does this sometimes when he’s nervous). Green emerald eyes flicker on and off in his mind, making his heart do cartwheels.
There were hundreds, thousands, of cases where people married someone who wasn’t their soulmate. You give up the gift, so to speak. Does colour really mean that much to you when you’ve got someone you love and who loves you back?
Sirius mentions something about needing to take a dump and waddles out, not before slapping the back of his neck with a tea towel. James flips him off and Sirius, like he has eyes in the back of his head, does one casually back.
James is left alone with just his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans.
The next time she comes into the coffee shop she’s wearing a bright yellow anorak and James can’t help but think of sunshine, daisies and lemons.
She flashes him a smile, cheeks pink, and asks him how he is.
He doesn’t tell her how pretty she looks today, though the words are desperately wanting to run off his tongue and slide out of his mouth like jelly. He doesn’t say how happy he is to see her - how sometimes the prospect of a soulmate, his soulmate, is replaced with pictures of her.
“Not bad,” he bites, fumbling with the lid of a teapot, “you?”
“Better with the prospect of coffee. Can I get an americano, please?”
James makes a grab for a cup. “You do know how strong this stuff is, right?”
She dismisses his cautious gaze with a wave of her hand. “I’ll add four sugars, it’s fine.”
“You know what another name for an americano is, Evans?” Sirius asks, grinning like the cheshire cat as he leans against the counters.
“Do I want to know?”
“A Long Black. I kid you not.”
Lily purses her lips. “On second thought, I’ll have a latte.”
“Don't fancy drinking a Long Black?” Sirius asks, already walking off to serve another customer before Lily can say anything back.
“You can have a Long Black if you want,” James smirks, dodging Lily’s hand that goes up to swipe at him, “I won’t judge.”
“A latte is better. Thanks though. But I think americano’s have been ruined for me now, permanently.”
He doesn’t know why, but he takes his time making the drink. He wants it to be perfect and immaculate, the best latte she’s ever had before. So, when she brings it to her lips he doesn’t feel like he shouldn’t be watching her - he just wants to know how she likes the drink. For science.
“It’s really good. You’re really good.”
“You’ve got - err - a,” he gestures to his own lips, staring at her frothy milk moustache. Her hands fly up to her face immediately, and she spends a good two minutes scrubbing her entire face with a serviette before emerging out of it with a red, mortified face.
“Sorry. How embarrassing.”
Her smile has to be the sweetest thing he’s ever encountered. It makes him weak in his knees. “It’s cute,” he drops his own tea, hot water spilling onto his arms and over the counter, “bugger. I mean, it’s fine. Milk moustaches are cute, I mean.”
She smiles, “You’re sweet,” her cheeks are still crimson. “I mean, my friend would have just taken pictures. I love her to bits but, you didn’t even - didn’t laugh is what I’m trying to say.”
“I almost did.”
Then he laughs and he has to press a hand to his lips to stop himself.
She’s got constellations in her eyes, he could stare at her for hours and at each passing minute he'd find something new to marvel at. She’s a breathtaking view. Her phone vibrates against her mug and the two jump. She grabs for it, avoiding his eyes as she stutters out a hello.
“Mary! Sorry. I’ll be there in a sec, on my way,” she ends the call with a sigh and when she glances back up at him he has the strongest urge to kiss her.
“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, downing the rest of her latte. She plops the empty cup into his hands, swings her bag over her shoulders but doesn’t move an inch.
He should say something.
He should ask her if she’s okay with seeing in black and white for the rest of her life. Ask if she’s okay being with someone like him - someone who can’t give her colour. She bites her lip, ready to say something when Sirius barges past with a tray full of dirty cups and plates.
His feet falter when he glances at the two of them. “Sorry, did I just ruin a moment?”
James’ cheeks burn and Lily just clears her throat. “No. I have to meet Mary, my- uh - friend. Um. See you boys later.”
She turns around, almost running into the bearded regular man. She murmurs out an apology and has to wait as the old regular couple walk in front of her. Together the three of them leave the shop, vanishing along with the surges of colour.
James takes a shaky step back, stepping on Sirius’ toes.
“Watch it!”
“It’s them,” he says, breathing out heavily, muttering the phrase over and over again, “it has to be either the old guy or the lady. It’s official - I’m a marriage wrecker.”
“You don’t have to marry them. There’s no contract.”
“I know. But, Lily, she,” James groans and shakes a hand through his hair.
“She...?”
James blinks. She’s everything he’s ever wanted. “Er… she has a friend called Mary, didn’t you know?”
“I’ve met countless Mary’s. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
Is she in prison for murder? Did Walburga Black kill Sirius’s soulmate? That seems to be the only plausible explanation at the moment. It would explain why Sirius hasn’t met Mary since whatever happened happened.
He’s grabbing onto a bag of carrots when he gets that thought and he looks around the shop suspiciously. He’s only met Walburga a few times; the last being when Sirius, sporting his own bloody and broken nose, dislocated Orion Black’s jaw.
Barista Of The Year to Serious (17:40): shall i buy hummus
Serious has changed his nickname to Hummus Lover 2k19
Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:41): what are u after
Barista Of The Year to Hummus Lover 2k19 (17:43): is ur mum in prison???
Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:45): ….. i wish
He’s halfway through the doors of Tesco Extra, googling ‘why is my friend a dumbass’ when he bumps into someone and his phone drops to the floor.
“Sorry!”
“It’s fine!”
He’s already bending down, fingers reaching out to grip onto his mobile when he realises whose voice it is.
“Lily!”
It’s weird seeing her out of the cafe, without a counter separating them.
She’s smaller than he remembers and he’s actually able to see her shoes, which is extremely weird. She’s wearing black worn out dolly shoes, her hair wild and the shade of crisp red and orange leaves signalling the first sign of autumn.
Her cheeks are rosy. “James! Hi.”
A car passes by, splashing murky water all over his legs. “I bought carrots, celery and hummus.” He waves the bag he’s carrying.
She gives him a soft smile and pulls on her jacket. “I’m going to buy marmite.”
“Disgraceful.”
“How can you dislike it when you’ve not even had it before?”
“Ah - but how long is a piece of string, Lily?”
“However long it is when you buy it.”
He’s grinning and she’s smiling back, making his heart flutter and quiver.
Seeing her with the sunset behind her, lighting up her hair like she’s a part of the sky, makes him wonder why he was even so determined to find his soulmate in the first place. She’s quickly become part of his life, his routine and he never wants it to end.
His phone makes a PING sound and he forces himself to look away from her.
Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed your nickname to I Love You Bro
Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed his nickname to Please Love Me
Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): how upset would u be if i hypothetically just broke your teapot. Hypothetically
Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): btw whats that tasty thing your mum gets sometimes? not jalebi, the other one
I Love You Bro to Please Love Me (18:10): …. gulab jamun also ??? what the frick sirius?? omw
He sighs and plops his phone into his shopping bag. “Hey, Lily. I got to go, Sirius is creating havoc at our flat -”
“Say no more,” she laughs, “see you later?”
“Definitely.”
It’s only when she’s gone into the shop, and he’s half way down the road, that he glances at the passing cars and realises he’s looking at dull grey.
He’s blinking, stopping dead in his tracks. Heart pounding a trillion beats per second against his chest. It hurts so much.
No no no no no.
He swishes around, almost toppling over a woman who glares and tuts at him before stomping away.
Was he hallucinating?
“Are you seriously asking me this?”
Sirius and James are on a fifteen minute break. They’re lying on the sofas in the staff room, spending their free time balancing water bottles on their foreheads.
“Yes.”
Sirius sighs, “No. I have never thought I was seeing colour when I wasn’t. Yes, I think you’re a moron.”
“I didn’t -”
“You're making up excuses, you knob. You know. You’ve been a blithering idiot ever since she set foot in the cafe.”
“All I'm saying is that there were a lot of people on that street,”
Sirius moves slightly and the bottle falls dramatically to the floor. “I know the Old Age Pensioner’s Zumba Class finished around six, perhaps it is the old lady with the moustache.”
Remus barges in, head ducking just in time as a water bottle flies across the room.
“What are two you doing in here? And why does it stink so bad?”
“Past your bedtime is it, Remus?” Sirius asks as he pulls James into a headlock.
“It’s past three thirty and it’s Wednesday.” Remus sends a curious glance in James’ direction, who immediately stuffs a cushion over his face. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Lily. Or it’s that old lady who grabbed my arse the other day, you know the one who always orders filter coffee and reeks of cotton balls,” says Sirius with a grin.
Remus leans against the door, shaking his head in amusement. “Well the old lady’s here right now. Why don’t you go and check, James?”
James gulps, feeling hot and sweaty even though he’s only wearing a t shirt and jeans. Sirius drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the door.
There’s not even a hint of colour. And no Lily Evans.
Panicking, he seizes hold of the closest thing, waving it in Remus’s face. “Look see. This is green.”
“That’s an egg, mate. Eggs aren’t green.”
“Dr Seuss would tell you otherwise. And how would you know, Remus? No offence.”
“But I do,” Sirius grabs for the egg, it twirls out of James’s hands and falls with a crack on the floor.
“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Peter tuts as cleans up the egg with a couple of cloths, “she’s been coming here for, how long? It feels like forever?”
“You looked like you were sea-sick each and every time. I never knew someone could get so affected by it.” Sirius muses, albeit smiling a little sadly as he pats James’s shoulder.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Maybe she’s just running late?” Remus glances at his watch, it’s almost four by now. Lily has never been late, not once. Dead on Wednesdays at three thirty (minus the Saturday when he first met her). James groans, he's such an idiot.
“Or maybe she got scared when she realised it’s James.”
A customer comes towards the counter and Peter takes one for the team, jogging towards them with a bright smile on his face.
“This is Lily we’re talking about,” Sirius shakes his head with a lopsided grin, “she's obviously crazy about him.”
“Well I don't see her. So I guess your premonition is wrong.”
It’s exactly what James was scared about ever since this whole mess started.
The colour dissolving, squeezed out of his life like water in a sponge, and knowing who it is makes it all the more unbearable. That freaking Lily Evans (the annoying customer turned tolerable acquaintance turned low-key crush turned soulmate) was it all along.
Only one good thing seems to come out of this mess, and that’s that he’s finally able to pay more attention to his classes - and actually submits his latest assignment in on time instead of seven hours later like his last one.
McGonagall has to pull him to one side after a lecture, asking him if anything is wrong.
There’s a hole in his heart, as cliche as it sounds, and the whole damn thing’s like ecstasy. He’s got no idea how Sirius can even manage, because now it’s been in his system he’s desperately wanting it all again.
Two weeks quickly become four and James longs to see her again.
So, at the first opportunity he gets, he taps in Sirius’s code on his phone (the same four digits he has for everything - even his bank code) and has only just opened up his contacts when he hears the sound of biker boots against the hardwood floor.
“Is there a reason why you’re using my phone?”
James Potter looks like a thief in the dead of night. “No. Hah! What - oh, this is your phone? I had no idea.”
Sirius crosses his arms. “No reason why you’re scrolling like a mad man through my L contacts either, eh?” he says with a winks and pops a strawberry into his mouth. James lets out a dejected sigh.
“I don’t have Lily’s number. Sorry.”
“You both joined the freaking Marmite society,”
“Rightly so, it needs more love.”
“And you don’t even have her number?”
He shakes his head, “No.”
Realisation dawns upon him, a glorious and ethereal light bulb flickering on inside his head. He glances up, a smile pulling on his lips. “You both joined the Marmite society.”
Sirius looks uncomfortable. “Yes… but you hate marmite.”
“I love it. Best damned thing since sliced bread.”
“You'll hate it. We only joined so we could get the free jar, but meetings include eating marmite toast so it's not exactly your cup of tea.”
“I'm going to that meeting, you can't stop fate.”
No matter how many times Sirius tries to talk him out of it, James’ mind is set. It’s a brilliant plan.
“It’s an awful plan,” Sirius says for the twentieth time, “we don’t even know if she’s going to be there.”
The words fall short on deaf ears as the two of them make their way to the mini meeting room, tucked away in the far corners of the oldest part of The Hogwarts Students Union. The strange society is made up of about twelve people and, he’s remaining optimistic, Lily’s not there yet.
Marlene McKinnon, a mature, final year Law student, seems to be in charge of the whole society, as she stands about by the toaster with a pack of bread and ten jars of marmite surrounding her.
“You guys just sit and eat toast on marmite?” James hisses as Sirius shuts the door and makes his way to three people who are sat on the nearest couch.
“I did try to tell you.”
Frank Longbottom introduces himself to James, and the first thing he says is that he’s gone through ten jars of marmite so far during his lifetime. Luckily the door opens, stopping all further conversation which involves James having to lie about loving marmite.
Luckily the door opens and colour crystallises before his very eyes as Lily Evans comes barging into the room.
She stops, eyes immediately drawing to James and Sirius who both give her a small, guilty wave. She bites her lip, hand reaching for her bag strap which she squeezes hard once. Then, like she’s lost a battle she knows she can’t win, stomps towards the sofa before plopping down opposite him.
Her hair’s the shade of cinnamon sticks and her green eyes sparkle. Sirius waggles his eyebrows when she throws one leg over the other and leans forwards to them, a smirk on her bright red lips.
“I didn’t know you liked marmite, James.”
His throat’s dry. “Not like. I love it.”
“Every marmite lover is welcome!” Marlene places two plates full of marmite-spread toast in front of them and James has to gulp down a retch. “As our newest society member, you can take the first bite.”
He's got thirteen sets of eyes on him and Sirius has to stuff the sleeve of his leather jacket in his face to stop himself from sniggering. Lily watches him with a small expectant smile. It makes his stupid heart flutter and before he knows it he's grabbing at the toast and stuffing it into his mouth.
It's disgusting, so salty on his tongue that his eyes start to water. But no one else seems to notice, they're all too busy grabbing the toast like vultures to notice, and it’s only Lily’s eyes which still hang onto him and she cocks her head a little to the side. He must look a right state, with the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth and tears streaming down his face because she smiles.
He's never going to get used to it; it's euphoric, a tingling sensation all the way from his head to his fingertips.
“Alright?” Sirius asks.
Emmeline Vance produces a jar of vegemite from her bag and, as a society, they collectively decide to hold a tasting session during their next meeting. Dorcas Meadows hands everyone a Marmite Soc t shirt and, thanks to Bellamy Blake (who made sure they printed out more t shirts in the high hopes that the society would grow), James is given one too.
“I'm in love,” he whispers. Because, crap, he really thinks he is.
Staring at green eyes, seeing Lily’s red lips curve and her hair, like cherries, roses and the setting sun. Sirius shuffles besides him and James is only vaguely aware of murmuring voices around the room.
There’s a tap on his shoulder, the meeting’s over.
He just catches a brief glimpse of Lily’s red cardigan swishing out of the door before he’s springing to his feet, grabbing hold of his bag and telling Sirius, whose white t shirt and dark blue denim jeans are now a dull grey, that he’ll meet him later. He doesn’t even wait for a response.
His heart’s pounding, a dull but excited and throbbing ache that shoots up from his toes like pins and needles.
James has never felt anything like this, the intense desperation - eating him up and consuming him. He pushes past a group of students, a sorry tangling between his lips before he’s tripping over a backpack (honestly- who leaves their bags sprawled out like that?) and flying out onto the floor.
“What are you like, honestly.”
He knows that voice, and a surge of colour comes floating with it. It’s happened so many times now, the change not quite instant but more like paint sweeping onto a canvas - bringing everything to life.
His eyes flutter open, then closed.
Lily is standing above him, grinning, a hand on her hip as she shakes her head and sighs. Then she’s reaching out her hand and she’s the first sweet sounding note of an entrancing melody, just one small trickle of spine tingling laughter and he’s floating.
He realises this is the first time he’s ever touched her hand and he grips onto her that little bit tighter as she pulls him off the floor.
“Alright?” she asks when his feet have hit the ground.
Now that he’s found her, he’s not exactly sure what he should say. Words fail him, not for the first time, and somehow he feels ten times smaller under her intense gaze.
“Fantastic. Yourself?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Oh,” he says, immediately bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair.
She kicks the bag out of way, sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. It’s flu season and he hates being ill (almost as much as he hates marmite) but the prospect of it doesn’t seem too bad when she’s here in front of him. Red, runny nose and all.
She sets off walking and his feet follow - like she’s the biggest flame or source of light and he’s just a moth, so entranced that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He loves seeing in colour but there’s something about her, the way she stands out like paint pastels on a plain piece of paper.
“I err -” he clears his throat and itches his nose, “how have you been?”
“Busy.”
She stops at the small cafe located on the first floor, Puddifoot's, and asks for an Earl Grey tea. When her hands are sprawled around the take out cup, savouring the heat that flows through her fingers, and she’s sipping at the hot beverage she gives him another look.
“Classes were giving me hell so my friend, Mary, and I decided it’d be better if we spent our time here. Her boyfriend always has early lectures so he saves us seats when it’s busy.”
James nods, “What’s the coffee like here?”
“Disgusting,” she grins, a slight blush on her cheeks, “but it’s cheap and convenient.”
“You even have a loyalty card with us, this is treachery.”
“Yeah, but I still need five more drinks before I get one free,” she laughs and his heart soars.
They set off walking out of the students union, towards a plethora of wild flowers scattered over overgrown grass, a couple of wooden benches knotted into the greenery. She plops down onto one of the benches, sighing happily. She reaches into her bag to grab some torn bread, throwing it into the pond facing them.
There’s only one duck in there, which the students of Hogwarts University quickly nicknamed The Giant Duck as it’s abnormally larger than the average british duck.
He takes a deep breath and plunges into the unknown, of what he really wants to say.
“I, err, I thought you might have been - well - avoiding me.”
“To be honest, I thought I was too. That and this cold has been a nuisance.”
“Oh,” he scratches his nose and stuffs his hands into his jacket, “you should get some lemsip.”
“I wanted to, but apparently you have to be sixteen and over to buy it and I forgot my passport so the cashier wouldn’t let me buy it.”
“I could get it for you-”
She shakes her head, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s like, what, three pounds? I honestly don’t mind.”
He’s already standing up, sputtering that her health is the most important thing when she grabs hold of his arm. He pauses, frozen.
She sighs, “Look. I don’t want anything to be, uh, awkward between us. Okay?”
He stops, numbly allowing her to pull him back down on the bench. Their legs brush against each other but she doesn’t move and inch. “Why would it be awkward?”
“I thought you knew.”
His heart skips a beat and he chokes. “What? You… you knew?”
She smiles, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning. “Err yeah.”
“Since when?” his head’s woozy, fingers shaking.
“Since the beginning,” her voice falters slightly, “that day I panicked and heard Remus calling your name. And I fled. Then on the Saturday I was, well, curious?” Only now does she turn to look at him, staring deep into his eyes. He's transfixed. “I only realised once I'd left that your name was the same.”
“But you kept coming.”
“Can you blame me?” she laughs and he feels ablaze.
“Guess not,” he shrugs, “I don't think anyone has enough willpower to ignore it.”
“Yeah,” she takes a sip from her tea, “and I thought you knew, I swear. But then at Tesco you didn't say anything and I realised you didn't. I panicked, that's why I didn't come back, partly. Sorry. You must hate me.”
“I could never.”
She looks so uncomfortable and he's helpless.
He wants to reach out for her hand and never let go. Like she hears his thoughts, she scrunches her fist into her pocket.
“The thing is… I made a promise to myself at a young age that if I ever did see colour I wouldn’t let it control me.”
The Giant Duck quacks loudly and James, who’s been sat on the edge of his seat, waiting anxiously for her to speak, jumps at the sound. She grins, blowing her nose again.
“I want to be able to make my own choices, James. And not be influenced.”
“Okay,” he blinks.
“So I decided I needed to take a break from it all.”
“If you err, if you don't mind me saying,” he pauses, waiting for her nod to continue, “you're saying you don't want it to be in control but it looks like you're letting it.”
“I dont-”
“Running away from it, even if you don’t want it, isn't that just fear?”
“It’s not exactly that simple,” she says.
“I know it’s not,” he gulps, a never ending shiver running up and down his spine. He’s trembling. “But, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”
The sun glows, and, under the deep orange rays she looks ten million times more radiant. He doesn’t care about cliché, he doesn’t care about anything else - only her.
She doesn’t want the colour, the myth of soulmates influencing and breathing down heavily on them. She smiles at him in the moment, moving forward, reaching out her hand so their fingers thread around each other.
And then she’s blinking, inching just that little bit closer towards him. She’s been chewing gum, he can smell peppermint as she breathes out and his eyes flutter closed in seconds.
Even with his eyes shut tight, he can still see colour. It’s more intense and vibrant than he’s ever known it, and he feels her lips place a chaste kiss on his.
It’s red and green, bursting into fireworks and butterflies alike, making his toes curl. He knows she’s feeling the same way, because she shivers against his touch and, when she rests her forehead against his and he has the strength to open his eyes again, she looks just as mesmerised.
