#jss 16

“You really don’t remember?” he asked. She shook her head. Or started to, but stopped. He put an arm on the roof of her car and leaned forward. “Are you sure you’re okay? Were you unconscious just then?”

“No.”

“Right. Well, you didn’t hit the llama, you hit me.”

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No worries, mate. I hit you, too.”

“Well, are you okay then?”

“Me? Yeah. I’m not the one with a possible head injury.”

“I don’t have a possible head injury.” But that was quite possibly a lie. Her head throbbed something fierce.

“We both swerved to avoid hitting the llama, and then. I’m not sure, actually. I think we hit each other.”

“You think?”

“It all happened very fast.”

“My mum’s gonna murder me.”

“Not if you die first.”

“That’s awful.”

He ducked his head. Sheepishly. Not mutant-like at all.

“Sorry—inappropriate humor,” he said. “Coping mechanism.”

“Right.”

She was just in a bloody car accident and she can’t stop staring at his face. Maybe she did have a head injury.

“D’you have a phone? I called emergency, but my phone died. They’re on their way. Hopefully. Reckon they aren’t keen on the line disconnecting.”

“It’s dead.”

“What are the odds?”

“Well, given that my favorite shoe broke this morning, and I dropped my toast and spilled my tea when said shoe broke, and I’ve just gotten into a car accident caused by a llama…”

“Fair point.”

“Well, then. What’s your name? Your birthday? Favorite color?”

“I do not have a head injury.”

“I’d feel better if you answered the questions.”

“Well, you don’t know anything about me, so how can that possibly help?”

“You were definitely unconscious.”

“I was resting my eyes.”

“Listen—”

“Lily Evans. Nineteen. Blue. Not just any shade of blue—not like, regular blue, or slate blue, that’s too gray, or even periwinkle or anything pastel. Like the deepest, darkest shade of navy you can imagine. Almost black. That blue. Happy?”

“Well then.”

She groaned. “You asked.”

“Fair point.”

“How bad are the cars?”

“Not bad. Don’t worry about it. I think you should lie back.”

“I think I should get out.” She reached for the door handle, and she thought he wanted to argue, but he moved out of the way so she could swing it open. She stepped out, then immediately wobbled with stabbing pain that shot up from her knee when she put weight on her left leg. He stepped forward to help, and she all but sagging against him.

She could all but sag against the car, but why would she, given the alternative?

“I think my knee is busted.”

“Shit,” he said. “Can you walk?”

“To where?”

“The grass. Where you can lie down while we wait.”

“How do I know you aren’t going to murder me?”

“My car is full of balloons, Evans. No room for a body.”

She looked over at his car which was, in fact, full of balloons. “That’s not helping your ‘I’m not a creep’ case.”

“They’re for a prank—long story. Not the point. I really feel like you should be sitting.”

“I’m not sure I can walk.”

“Come on, then. You’re a wreck.”

“Ha.”

Before she could process what was happening, he picked her up clean off the ground, like in a movie. It was possibly the hottest thing that had happened to her. Except that she was covered in powder. And probably had a black eye. And maybe a minor concussion. And her knee throbbed like murder.

“I’ve always wanted to sweep a pretty girl off her feet,” he said, carrying her around both cars to the shallow ditch that ran parallel to the road, “but this isn’t what I envisioned.”

“I always wanted to be hit on by a tall, handsome, bespectacled stranger, but this isn’t what I meant.” No complaints, though.

“No complaints here, either.”

Fuck all, did she actually say that last bit out loud?

“James.”

“Hm?”

“I’m James.”

He sat her down on the embankment, then plopped down right next to her. Neither objected when she leaned against his shoulder for support.

“I might have a slight head injury, James.”

“I know.”

“Can we pretend you have a head injury and you tell me things about you, too?”

“Right, well. James. 27th Mach. And green. Apparently.”

“Oh?”

“Recent development.”

“Do you have a brain injury?”

“No. You’re just very distracting. I don’t think I was supposed to move you.”

“I think that’s a spinal cord.”

“We’re really, really bad at this car accident thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Are  you sure you called emergency?”

“I did, but we’re in the middle of nowhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She noticed his shaking hands. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“What?” He followed her gaze. “Yeah. Just…adrenaline.”

She grabbed it. To steady it, because he’d been nice to her, and carried her, and this was the decent thing to do. Right?

“I might have a slight concussion, James Potter, but you have a profusely bleeding shin.”

“Yep. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you the new Potters who just moved here?”

“Yep. Nothing really goes unnoticed around here, huh?”

“Exactly. I think the llama probably belongs to the Stevensons. It wandered an awfully long way, but ‘tis the season.”

“For llamas?”

“For llama mating.”

“Ah.”

She’d let that crash and burn, yeah? Ha.

“You know,” she said, trying desperately to sound more casual than she felt, which was all jittery and weird, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the accident. “In terms of being rescued by a tall, handsome stranger, this is pretty on scenario.”

“I’m not sure it counts as rescued when I am part of the cause.”

“No complains.”

“How did you envision a tall, dashing man hitting on you? Because I am more than happy to oblige you there.”

“I think you just did.”

“That’s how you envisioned it?”

“Well, no, but we already have a hot date scheduled.”

“Oh?”

“At accident and emergency, in about a half and hour minutes, because you are definitely getting that gash cleaned.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

“You’re going to need stitches. Probably a scar.”

“There goes my dashing good looks.”

She elbowed his ribs. “I didn’t say dashing, James. I said handsome.”

“Well, then.”

“But you’re that, too.”

“I think I like you, Lily. Which is mad, given that we’ve known each other for twenty minutes.”

“It’s been a really intense twenty minutes though.”

“True.”

They heard sirens, and a moment later the rescue response appeared over the crest of a distant hill. The impractical, really enjoying leaning on James Potter’s shoulder part of her almost wished they hadn’t been so bloody efficient in their response time.

“You’d better lie down, Evans, or they’ll yell at me for letting you sit up.”

With a smart-arse salute, Lily lay down on the grass just as the ambulance came into proper view. “Do you think you should give me mouth-to-mouth?”

“Maybe after our hot date this afternoon.”

“Good plan. I like you, too, you know.”

“I’d figured that out, yeah.”

“And that’s not even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me today.”

“I dunno that I’d qualify this part as weird, so much as awesome.”

“You know what I mean.”

Lily sits bolt upright when Mary’s fingers hit a particularly ticklish spot.

“You look miserable,” Mary observes.

“Thanks.”

“It’s true though.”

“Ugh I just wish it was over already,” Lily whines.

“You know, not to point out the obvious here, but you were the one who chose to take two extra electives on top of trying to get your undergraduate medical degree, so you kind of got yourself into this mess.”

She gets a glare for that one.

“Really, Mare, if you have nothing useful to say, you could consider not saying anything for once.”

Mary snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

*

A week later in the midst of her elective philosophy exam though, Lily has to admit Mary has a point. Why did she take this class again? To develop a wider perspective then just the medical one? Sounds like utter bullshit to her ears now, and she suddenly understands why everyone called her mad when she told them.

Time’s almost up and the space around her is filled with the sounds of pens clicking, papers turning and people sighing over some particularly difficult problem. When their professor calls the end of the exam, it’s almost a relief.

She’s next in line to one of the boys from her class to whom she’s never spoken, but she’s seen him around. He has this thing where he draws all of the attention to him without even trying, with his effortless laid-back vibe, and he always looks bored. Somehow, that makes him even more handsome. He shows no signs of just having finished an exam.

It’s a rarity to see him alone though. Usually he’s in the first row, laughing it up and charming professor McGonagall with his mate.

“Oi, Sirius.”

The boy turns to look at the sound, and so does Lily. His lanky friend comes jogging up towards them, his exam papers bundled up in one of his hands. He’s tall this one, and lanky, with black hair and glasses and a perpetual smirk on his face, but he misses the grace his mate possesses.

“Didn’t think you should wait for me this morning?”

Sirius scoffs and turns back to the front of the queue when the other boy reaches him.

“Please. If you wanted a babysitter you should’ve found another roommate.”

“Remus would’ve waited for me.”

“You’re so full of shit Potter. He would have abandoned you and not even bothered to wake you up like I did and you know it. There probably would’ve been a note on the table saying ‘ha ha ha’.”

The Potter boy frowns for a bit like he’s deep in thought, but then his smirk returns in full force.

“Probably. He’s hypocritical that way.”

Lily reaches the front of the queue and pushes her exam papers forward. The assistant takes it, looks it over and checks her student ID.

“Evans?”

From the corner of her eye, Lily catches the Potter boy looking up at the mention of her name. Lily ignores him, offers an affirmative nod to the assisten, signs off and goes to get her bag. If she hurries, she might still catch the next bus back to the dorm.

*

“Evans was it, yes?”

It’s cold at the bus stop and Lily’s mind has already fast forwarded to her chemistry exam tomorrow. When she turns at the sounds of her name she sees the lanky boy with the spectacles standing at her shoulder. She has to strain her neck to be able to look at him properly.

“Lily,” she says, and smiles politely.

He smiles back, and one hand goes to play with his hair when he answers.

“James. Me. I’m James Potter.”

He looks a bit sheepish and lowers his hand again, putting it in his pocket. She nods, too, and turns back to face the street.

“How d’you reckon you did it?”

She looks up at him again as he moves his head in the general direction of the building/campus and gets distracted by his hair. Somehow, his hand has made it even messier than before and now it sort of sticks up in all directions. He has quite a nice head of hair, she muses.

Her eyes flicker down to his face again and she can just feel her face go red when she catches his smirk. Busted.

“I think I did well enough,” she says finally, lowering her gaze to the papers on her lap and willing her cheeks to cool off again. Lily has a strict policy of not discussing past exams, seeing as they are over and there’s nothing one can do about them anymore anyway.

“Funny we didn’t meet before, seeing as we’re both McGonagall’s favourites.”

She has to raise her eyebrow at that, and James catches her disbelieving smile.

“You don’t believe me?” he says, mock offended.

“Well, you two clowns perhaps,” Lily concedes. “I don’t think she would let any other student get away with even half of the crap you two pull in class.”

His grin grows wider. “I know. You too though, you’re the one who actually gives intelligent answers to her questions and makes her not lose faith in all of us.”

“Been spying on me?”

He flushes a bit. “Well, no, but you do sort of stand out.”

“It’s the hair,” Lily says, and nods in all seriousness.

James opens his mouth as if he’s about to retort, but just then the bus comes driving up and screeches to a halt in front of the bus stop. Lily gets up and makes to get in, but stops short when she notices he’s not showing any indication of doing the same.

“You’re not getting on?” she asks.

“Oh, no,” he says, and the sheepish look is back. “My place is not far off campus, so I’ll just walk.”

He waves his hand in the general direction of the city centre.

“Oh, um, okay. Well, see you around then,” she says awkwardly, one foot already on the bus.

“See you around, Lily.”

It sounds so sincere that Lily doesn’t know what to do with herself, so she just gets in.

“Oh and, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR FINALS!” he shouts after her, just before the door closes and the bus takes off.

*

“Lily, get your ass out of bed and into a dress. We’re going to the pub tonight.”

Mary kicks the door closed, throws her bag to the side and practically skips to the mirror. She extracts her mascara with a flourish and starts applying her make-up.

The pile of blankets on Lily’s bed wriggles a bit and then slowly raises to a sitting position.

“You know, some people prefer to rest up a bit after the exams before they start having human interaction again,” she says.

“Nonsense. You’ll have plenty of time to lounge about afterwards, but tonight is the last night everyone is in town before Christmas break, and we’ve been shut up in this stinking dorm room for the past two weeks!”

“I moved in with a lunatic.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lily answers. “I love you very much Mare and will miss you incredibly while you’re away.” And with a sigh, she gets up and begins to sift through her clothes.

“Thought so too,” says Mary with a smirk.

Ten minutes, two dresses and a mediocre effort to hide the bags under their eyes later the two girls are ready to go. Mary gives the room a final once-over and grabs Lily’s hand to drag her out of the door. Lily is not entirely unwilling anymore, actually looking forward to getting out and talking to people again, but still doesn’t appreciate it when Mary’s enthusiasm almost makes her collide with the door.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Lily says, sounding resigned.

“Tut-tut,” says Mary, and the door closes behind them with a final snap.

*

It’s very warm inside the pub, and very crowded. Since there is only one pub on walking distance to both the campus and the dorms, it is completely packed with students celebrating the end of term. There’s Christmas decorations hanging from the ceilings, and fairy lights twinkling by the window, but is just adds to the disorienting whole.

They make their way to a spot in a corner at the bar, and plop down on the two stools. Lily jumps in her seat when the guy next to her turns in his stool and says:

“Evans was it, right?”

She has to take a minute to recover her bearings, but when she does she recognises him immediately.

“Oh, you’re Potter’s good-looking friend.”

His grin is so wide it almost splits his face, and he raises one eyebrow.

“Good-looking, eh? Oh James is going to lose his shit when he hears this.”

“Is that so?”

“He hasn’t shut up about you since your brief conversation at the bus stop last week. The poor bloke could barely concentrate on his exams and kept whining about how he should’ve asked your number.”

He shakes his head tragically. “A mental case, that one.”

Lily thinks back too and flusters slightly. I mean, she could concentrate, but she did catch herself looking around for him at the library a few times.

“Who is this were talking about?” pipes in Mary.

But her question doesn’t need to be answered because right at that moment there is a scuffling behind them and the boy in question emerges from the crowd. He reaches them and slaps his hand down on the counter.

“Jesus, Sirius. When you lose rock-paper-scissors it means you have to go get us drinks, not go chat up pretty girls at the counter.”

He casts a furtive look at the girls but stops when he notices Lily. A wide grin appears on his face.

“Fancy seeing you here, Evans,” he says.

“Mary here dragged me out,” Lily says, and points at Mary to introduce her. She gives a little wave. “She says that if it weren’t for her I’d be in danger of becoming a hermit.”

“Well, thank god for Mary then.”

“Evans and I were just talking actually,” says Sirius, smirking mischievously. “She called me the good-looking one.”

James’ mouth falls open in an almost comically round ‘O’. Then he quickly reasserts himself and presumes a look of complete confidence.

“Slander.”

“No, it’s true, you can ask her.”

James turns on Lily suspiciously. “Evans?”

Lily is saved from answering by the barman who noisily places four beers on the counter in front of Sirius. He takes them and gets of his stool. James gestures with his hand to the girls to follow them, and dives into the crowd.

*

They go for a table next to the window, where two other boys are waiting.

“No Sirius, you don’t get it, I am obviously the handsome one. Your hair is way too…” James trails off as he reaches the table, concentrating for a moment on stealing two other chairs from a nearby table.

“- too floppy,” he finishes, wearing a self-satisfied smirk at his word of choice.

Sirius almost drops the beers as he splutters, but reaches the table just in time to put them down. Then he rounds on James.

“Excuse me? Floppy?”

The somewhat chubby, blonde boy sitting at the table laughs. Lily notices another boy. This one is tall, with brown hair and a faintly pale look about him. He is smiling slightly at his mates’ shenanigans.

“Ha!” says James childishly, and sits down. Then he turns to the other two.

“Remus, Peter, meet Lily Evans and her friend, er –“

“Mary,” says Mary, and she smiles.

“You can sit down you know,” says the boy with the brown hair. “I’m Remus by the way, that’s Peter.”

Peter nods at them too. The girls take the seats closest to them, and somehow Lily ends up sitting next to James. Sirius seems to be in a huff about being ignored, but finds himself a seat too. Remus shoots him a look.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this about?”

“Well, you see,” begins Sirius. “Evans here called me the good-looking one, and obviously James can’t deal with that, so he –“

“She never confirmed she did!”

“She said it.”

“Evans?”

“Er -  yes, I did.”

“See?” says Sirius triumphantly.

Lily has to bite her lip to hold back her laughter, but James doesn’t give up that easily. He rounds on Remus and Peter.

“You two still choose me, right?”

“Of course, mate.”

“Any day.”

“See?” says James.

“Bloody traitors,” mutters Sirius. “They’re biased anyway ‘cause you invited us all over for Christmas at your place. You basically bought their allegiance.”

“No, we just like to see you all worked up,” says Remus. “Anyway, about that. Do we have a plan yet?”

Through the following conversation, it becomes clear that James’ parents have an apartment not far from there, and they’re holding a party on Christmas Eve. Apparently, it’s tradition that the boys pull some sort of prank, but it has to be meticulously planned, seeing as his parents know what they’re up to and will be prepared.

Peter suggests messing with the food, but that idea is quickly rebuffed because they did something with that the previous year. Apparently it involved hard liquor, fire, large amounts of mistletoe and a quick getaway via the fire escape.

When Mary jumps in with a suggestion about swapping all the presents with ones filled with bubble wrap, Sirius beams at her, announces that she is a genius and makes her an official honorary member of the Christmas Prank Planning Committee.

While Mary takes her bows, James suddenly turns to Lily.

“By the way. You still haven’t apologised for naming Sirius “the good-looking one” over me. I was deeply offended you know.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but can feel a grin creeping onto her face. “See, I would, but it’s true.”

“Rude!” exclaims James, a hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture. “I was going to invite you and Mary to come to our Christmas party to experience the prank in action, but if this is how you’re going to behave, then – “

Lily looks at him in surprise.

“Really? I’d love to come!”

“Yeah, well, too bad then.”

“Oh come on, please? Mary can’t by the way, she’s going home for Christmas, but I live here, well, not far from here, and if I don’t find something to do on Christmas Eve I’ll have to spend it with my sister and her troll of a fiancée.”

James raises one eyebrow. “Sounds like a story.”

“Yeah, it is,” she says, shrugging.

James can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it and drops the subject, for which Lily is grateful.

“Well, I can hardly leave you to their mercy, can I? It’ll be Christmas after all, gotta keep the Christmas spirit.”

*

It’s Christmas Eve, and Lily’s nervous. She’s waiting outside of the tall apartment building for James to come pick her up, because he said she wouldn’t find it on her own. The cold bites at her nose and makes her breath look like little clouds, and her long green dress isn’t exactly enough to keep her warm. The cold is just not the only reason why she’s shivering.

Last week at the pub they talked for hours while the others planned the prank, and they exchanged numbers. They talked a lot during the past seven days, but this is the first time they see each other again, and Lily can feel swarms of butterflies circling in her gut.

When he’s finally there though she’s so cold she momentarily forgets to be nervous but just runs up to him to get to the warmth and gives him a small kiss on the cheek.

“Lily!” He sounds surprised, but also happy, and it makes her stomach lurch.

“I’m bloody frozen,” she says, side-stepping him and entering the building.

He closes the door after her, then turns around and really looks at her for a moment. Lily feels like she should spin in a circle or something, but that would be stupid wouldn’t it? – so instead she pretends not to notice and starts looking for an elevator.

“Wrong way,” he says, and points it out. It’s still open and they get in. “No wonder you’re cold though, you’re not really wearing a winter outfit, are you?”

“Sirius told me it was fancy, so here I am, looking fancy.”

“Well, if Sirius told you.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. It’s quiet for a few seconds and the only sound is that of the elevator whizzing upwards.

“The green looks pretty on you,” he says suddenly.

“Thanks.” She smiles at him.

He grins back. “It’s very seasonal, you know. Makes you look like a Christmas tree with that red hair of yours.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “The compliment every girl is just dying to hear.”

“I like Christmas trees. Plus, it brings out your eyes.”

“My sister said it made me look like a midget pine tree.”

This makes James laugh so hard he snorts, and it’s so infectious that Lily starts to laugh too. By the time they are done laughing, the elevator has reached the top floor, and they get out.

Lily doesn’t have to ask which door it is, because the music and the sound of a lot of people talking lead the way. She makes to knock, but James reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, wait.”

His hand is rough, and very very warm, and not at all unwelcome. She gets chills again, but the nice kind, when she turns and looks up at him. But now she’s facing him James seems to falter. He drops his hand and the other one shoots immediately up and into his hair.

“Lily, I –“

“Do you know there’s mistletoe hanging above your head?” she interrupts.

He looks completely bewildered for a second.

“What?”

“Yeah, right there.” She points her finger at it, and James sees that there is, indeed, mistletoe hanging right above the spot where the two of them are standing. His eyebrows knit together at the sight.

“Fucking Sirius,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, what?”

“This is a bit awkward, but –“ He panics. “Look, I didn’t hang that there, okay? It must’ve been one of the boys, trying to prank us or something. I swear it wasn’t there when I went down!”

“James.”

“And what are they trying to do with that anyway? Making me look like some creep? Okay I admit I was hoping that maybe perhaps somewhere tonight, but, y’know I would never – I like you okay? A lot, and it’s weird and we only just met and all, but there it is and – oh I’m so gonna kill –“

He’s worked himself in such a state at this point that Lily’s afraid he might actually take off to find Sirius, so she does the only thing she can think of: she takes a step closer to him and grabs the hand that is now really pulling at his hair.

“James.”

He stops, blinks, and looks down at her. They’re standing very close now, so close that Lily can spot the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

“What.” He sounds a bit dazed.

She smiles.

“It’s fine. Now shut up and kiss me, will you?”

It’s the last week of term and the castle has been transformed into a winter wonderland. The suits of armour sing christmas carols when you walk past them, branches of holly have made it impossible to touch the bannisters without being pricked, mistletoe has infested the halls and Peeves has taken to pelting snowballs at anyone who tries to enter the Great Hall. Even the Head’s small and cramped office has been decorated, tinsel everywhere you look.They’ve been struggling to find anything beneath the explosion of red, silver and gold.

Lily is looking for her Transfiguration essay when she finds the letter. It’s addressed simply to ‘Evans’ and she recognises James’ messy scrawl immediately. She gives up searching for her essay and collapses onto the sofa she and the Marauders had managed to squeeze in through the portrait hole, breaking the letter’s seal.

Dear Evans,

It has come to my mother’s attention that I do not have a girlfriend. Now, this would not be a problem, except for the fact that a month ago my mother told my aunt I had a girlfriend. Said aunt is going to be at my cousin’s wedding during the christmas holidays and, without consulting me, my mother told her she would be able to meet my girlfriend at this wedding. You might have picked up on my dilemma.

I cannot not go to this wedding. Not only would I become a pariah in my family, but also I would actually like to attend because it’s one of my favourite cousins. I also cannot attend this wedding without a girlfriend. My aunt is very excited to meet my girlfriend and my mother has implied that there’s a high risk of bodily harm if I show up without one.

Usually I would just stick Sirius in a dress and be done with it. My entire family know Sirius though and therefore I need an actual female. (Peter and Remus don’t share Sirius’ legs or facial structure so would just look odd in a dress and are both going away with their families anyway.)

So, Miss Evans, I would like to formally invite you to be my fake girlfriend to my cousin’s wedding. I will be waiting in the Great Hall at lunch to hear your response.

Your Sincerely,

James Potter

Lily has to read the letter a few more times until she finally comes to grips with what exactly James is saying. Once she has, she checks her watch to make sure it’s lunch, folds the letter up and marches calmly out of the office, heading to the Great Hall. She fails to dodge the snowball Peeves aims at her and barely manages to reach the safety of the Hall before he throws another. The snow has soaked her back and she grabs one of the towels just inside the doors, stacked there since the Bloody Baron failed in persuading Peeves to stop, and wraps it around her, the enchantment Madame Pomfrey placed on them warming her up immediately.

The Gryffindor table is half full and Lily spots the Marauders easily, hunched over what is most likely the morning’s crossword. None of them look up until she pokes her head in between Remus and Sirius.

“Lily! Just the person we need. Eight down, nine letters, what ‘muggle television programme features a witch who can perform magic with her nose’? Last letter is D.” Peter looks expectantly at her.

“Bewitched.” She answers, looking at James who is staring firmly into the remains of his lunch. “It’s American. She flies on a broomstick as well.”

Sirius snorts. “I’d love to see her at the World Cup.”

“I actually came over to fetch James. There’s some stuff to sort out about students who are staying at school over the holidays, and I need his help.” Lily smiles and waits for James to respond.

It takes a smirking Sirius reaching across the table to flick him on the forehead to get him to look up. “Better hop to it Prongs.” Evidently, the other Marauders know, otherwise they wouldn’t look so smug as James stands and walks in step with Lily towards the doors. It’s endearing, the way he refuses to look up from the ground, eyes so firmly trained there he doesn’t see the snowball flying at him. It hits him squarely in the stomach and James doubles over, winded. Peeves cackles, already preparing to launch a second one.

“We’re meant to have an alliance!” James shouts, straightening and then ducking quickly so the second snowball only brushes his shoulder.

“I never signed a contract!” Peeves yells back. Responding maturely, James flips him the middle finger and then dodges the next snowball before beginning to run, weaving across to the stairs, with Lily close behind. Once they’re half way up the stairs, Peeves’ attention turns to a group of bundled up Hufflepuffs who have just walked in through the doors, a slight frosting of snow already on their shoulders, and Lily and James able to slow down.

They’re silent until they reach the office, James standing back to let Lily climb through first.

“Evans -”

“Potter -” They both start at the same time, Lily perched on his desk and James faltering just inside the entrance. “It’s pretty archaic to ask someone out with a letter, you know.” She continues when he waves for her to go on.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Easier than doing it face to face though. More efficient too, less stuttering. Besides, it’s really just asking for a favour.”

“To be your fake girlfriend.”

“Exactly.” He smiles weakly.

“And what, exactly, will being your fake girlfriend entail?”

James shrugs. “Telling all my family we’ve been going out for a while, that I’m a great boyfriend, maybe holding hands. Pretending to be hopelessly in love with me. I haven’t really worked out the logistics yet.”

“That’s a tall order.” Lily taps her nails on the desktop. “What’s in it for me?”

“Free food, my charming company, and I’ll split the bet money with you.” This sparks Lily’s interest, and James can clearly tell because he grins and continues. “Sirius bet 15 galleons you would say no.”

“Well then… I guess I have to say yes.” Lily says, fighting back a smile as James laughs.

“Evans, you are wonderful. Simply brilliant.” He sweeps her up in a hug and the smile wins, her arms tightening around his neck as he spins her round once. “Absolute saviour. Mother would have killed me if I turned up alone.” He sets her down and she feigns smoothing down her robes, looking at her feet, waiting for her cheeks to lose their flush.

“I guess we better go tell Sirius the bad news.”

“He’ll be gutted. Gutted.”

24th December, 11.57am

Lily’s in the middle of cursing the phone for waking her up when her mum calls up the stairs to tell her it’s for her. She groans, wraps the duvet round her shoulders and slouches down to the phone. Mrs Evans has left it off the hook and Lily picks it up, not waiting for the person on the other end of the line to speak before speaking. “Damn Remus for teaching you how to use a phone.”

“Morning Evans!” James doesn’t sound the least bit affronted by her tone and she hates him for it.

“What do you want now?” He’s been calling all week to talk about the wedding and, Lily can’t deny it, it’s been nice. They’ve planned a back story, come up with dates and memories - most of which are all true, except they’ve removed the other Gryffindor seventh years from the stories. But, this is the second time he’s woken her up and Lily is not a morning person. Not until the 25th anyway.

“No red.”

“What?”

“You can’t wear red. You haven’t already bought a dress have you? Merlin, tell me it’s not red.” He sounds worried. Lily decides to take advantage.

“What if it was red?”

“Oh Merlin, no. You’ve got to take it back. Please. I’ll give you all the bet money. I’ll -” He goes on and Lily smiles to herself, waiting until he takes a breath to interrupt.

“It’s not red.”

“Oh, you cheeky fuck. I can’t -”

“Why no red?”

“Only the bride wears red. Hindu wedding remember.” She had remembered. She just hadn’t ever considered a bride wearing anything other than white.

“No red. Got it. Can I go back to bed now?”

“You’re going to go back to bed?” You’re up, have some breakfast, do some work -”

“Bye Potter.” Lily hangs up on his laughter and trudges back up to bed.

28th December, 1pm

Lily steps out of the fireplace into an empty room and tries not to panic. She can hear music and the loud roar of voices coming from below her, but there’s no sign that she’s in the right house. Not until the door opens a second later and James steps through.

“Wow.”

“I could say the same.” Lily says, blushing as James looks her up and down. He had said he would be wearing ethnic wear, but she hadn’t known what to expect. Definitely not this. It’s a deep blue, complimenting his dark skin and hair, the latter which looks messier than usual. The design on it shimmers and Lily realises it’s moving, the pattern swirling and dancing up from the hem to the collar.

“It’s a kurta.” He says, swallowing. “You, um, you look great, Evans. You really do.”

She adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“We should probably go downstairs. If I’m any longer one of my aunts will come up to see if we’re shagging.” James holds his hand out. “Ready?”

“If only they knew my standards were so much higher.” Lily says, taking his hand. She fails at ignoring how his big hand completely engulfs hers, at how warm his skin is, at how comfortable she feels with her shoulder brushing his.

They run through their story as they make their way down the hall, Lily only half paying attention because she’s still distracted by how good he looks and surprised by the butterflies in her stomach. It’s not like this is real. His parents know she’s not really his girlfriend, just a friend doing him a favour. She’s only here to save face. She’s just pretending to be in love with him. Except she’s not and she really does love him. Has since sixth year. At least that small fact will make it easy. No acting involved. Just pain at the end of the wedding, when she has to leave and they go back to being friends. Lily sighs, and just as James is about to ask her if everything is okay, they reach the bottom of the stairs and become mobbed by several old ladies who all have James’ nose.

“Everyone, this is Lily, my girlfriend. Lily, this is -” They all surge forwards to hug her, telling her their names and how beautiful she looks, one woman tugging on a strand of hair and asking if she uses the family product. For the next ten minutes, it’s the same. James introducing her to family, Lily forgetting every name as soon as she’s told it, everyone telling James how lucky he is, people offering her food and champagne. It’s a whirlwind of colour and Lily just holds onto James’ hand and lets him guide her, smiling and nodding and saying hello and admiring the women’s saris, thinking how drab she looks next to them.

“Are you at Hogwarts with -”

“How old are -”

“What do you want to do -”

“Where were you -”

“He must buy you such -”

“So pale! Have you never -”

“Oh! James! You lucky -”

“You must meet -”

“Did he ask you out or -”

“Is he a good boyfriend -”

“Where did you guys meet? At -”

“Find seats for the -”

“Have you tried this -”

“Does he treat you -”

“What do you parents -”

Lily tries to answer every question, faltering only when James lets go of her hand to put his arm around her waist instead. Immediately Lily flushes.

“Aw! Poor girl has gone red -”

“Young love, so -”

They are saved by a tall lady who sweeps through to stand next to James. “It is not my son’s wedding today. Stop pestering him. Go finish off the firewhiskey.” The women, who Lily had picked up where James’ aunts and older cousins, roll their eyes but bustle off, leaving the fake couple with, whom Lily has realised is, none other than Euphemia Potter herself. James has her lips and none of her elegance.

“You must be Lily.” Euphemia looks her up and down and smiles. “One couldn’t ask for a better fake date, could you dularchan?”

James runs a hand through his hair, avoiding Lily’s eyes. “No, I couldn’t.”

“Stop messing your hair, idiot boy. You’d never know my husband produced hair products the way you look.” She swipes his hand away from his head and shudders. “I wish you had your brother’s sense of… finesse.”

“Sirius doesn’t have any finesse, mum, he’s just got a brown nose.” James is pouting and Lily smiles, used to James’ petulant side.

“Now, have you introduced Lily to my sister? She’s the reason you had to have a fake girlfriend in the first place.” Euphemia shakes her head. “Always boasting about how her perfect her daughter-in-law is. She thinks James can’t get a girlfriend. He can’t -”

“Mum!”

“-but she doesn’t need to know that.”

“I think James said she was the women staring at us and turning her nose up.” Lily says.

“That would make sense.” Euphemia scans the room. “There she is! Come on!” James barely has time to groan before his mother is whisking them across the room.

28th December, 2.10pm

“You do know you’re staring, don’t you.” The voice behind her makes her jump and Lily snaps around. Sirius smirks down at her. “Caught red handed.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “What are you on about?”

“You. You’re staring at James. Haven’t taken your eyes off him in fact.” He nods over to where James has been trapped by two younger cousins, demanding he perform tricks for them with his wand. Lily frowns.

“Am not.”

“What a solid defence, you’ve really proven your innocence there, congratulations.” He ruffles her hair, smug, and she elbows him in the side.

“You’re just jealous because I’m getting all the attention. You can’t handle it.”

“There’s a difference between wanting attention and having a death wish, Evans.” Sirius leans back against the pillar Lily had been sort of hiding next to. “I’ve been camping out in the kitchen. No nosy aunts or judging uncles in there. Plus the food hasn’t been touched by anyone yet.”

“You’re such a snob.”

“Good hygiene is not snobbish.”

“Whatever.” Lily looks back at James, unconsciously smiling as he magicks a bouquet of flowers.

“You’re staring again.”

“Oh, sod off.”

28th December, 4pm

People have begun to file into the wedding hall where the ceremony is being held and Lily and James join the queue, holding hands. When they get to the entrance they take their shoes off, Lily using James’ arm as support as she slides her heels off.

“Merlin’s beard Evans.”

“What?” She asks defensively.

“You’re a complete midget.” James looks her up and down again and snorts, slipping his owns shoes off and taking her hand again.

“I am not! I’m above average! You’re just…” she waves her hand at his body, searching for the word, “ridiculous. You’ve got giant genes.”

“Don’t let my aunts here you say that, they’ll take it personally.” James smirks and squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s cute.”

28th December, 4.20pm

The queue moves quickly forwards and they find seats, Lily putting her bag on the one next to her to save it for Sirius. A canopy has been built at the front of the room with a fire in the middle.

“That’s the mandap, that’s where they’ll actually get married.” James says, leaning in towards her. “The four poles represent the universe. All of the elements are represented in there. The fire is considered a witness, and it symbolises illumination of knowledge and happiness.”

“Wow. It’s beautiful.”

James doesn’t get a chance to reply because, just as Sirius collapses gracefully onto the saved seat, someone hushes the room and the ceremony begins.

“This is a purification ritual…” James whispers softly, shoulder brushing hers, telling Lily about the prayers and garlands, leaving Lily in awe, both at the ceremony’s beauty and at how the warmth of his breath on her neck makes her want to tear off his kurta and do things she should definitely not be thinking about during a wedding. “…this is kanyadaan, our weddings aren’t contractual, they are a sacrament…” The ceremony goes on and James falls silent at parts, listening, praying with them, continuing his explanation again when the bride and groom begin to circle the fire. “This is sapta padi, they’re making vows to each other. Each circle around the fire is a step. Destiny, family, nourishment, constancy, fidelity, respect and unity. It’s their commitment to each other.” With every step the couple takes, flowers blossom behind them, blooming a different colour with every circle. “That bit only happens at the wizard weddings.” The seven steps finish and a shimmering shawl appears above the couple, floating down to cover them. “This is one of the most sacred parts of the ceremony. It’s so intimate, we’re not allowed to see it. The groom is placing red powder, sindoor, along the bride’s parting, they’re completely devoted to each other, it’s a symbol of the union.”

Sirius leans across Lily. “Means it’s almost over as well. You ready to run?”

“You get them?” James asks. Lily looks between them, clueless.

“He didn’t even notice.” Sirius points at his feet and Lily and James look down. A pair of shoes are tucked between his bare feet.

“Am I missing something?”

“Yes. And so is the groom.” James smirks, fist bumping Sirius. Someone behind them shushes them. The couple have appeared and the shawl that was covering them explodes into hundreds of pink petals, showering the couple. “It’s over.” James says. The parents of the couple wave their wands and rice streams out of them, showering them along with the petals.

“They’re gone!” One of the groom’s brothers shouts and laughter spreads across the room. The groom smacks his hand to his head.

“Did you steal his shoes? You can’t do that!” Lily whispers, smacking Sirius on the shoulder.

“It’s tradition Evans.” James says with a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“And pay day.” Sirius grins, subtly picking the shoes up and tucking them into the waistband of his trousers, beneath his own deep blue kurta. “As far as they know, the girls have stolen them. So all we have to do, is get out -”

“Accio shoes!” The groom shouts, wand lifted. The shoes fly from Sirius’ waistband, almost smacking him in the chin, and shoot across the room. Before they make it though one James’ cousins leaps up and snatches them from the air, not waiting for them to stop tugging out of her grip before he she starts running.

“Go go go.” James says, lips inches away from her ear. Lily blinks, barely aware of Sirius tugging her out of the row of seats, still focused on her tingling ear. Then they’re in the aisle and running after the small crowd of the bride’s cousins, closely chased by the groomsmen. Outside the hall there’s a hurried plan formulated and then they’re all running in different directions. James grabs Lily’s hand and they sprint off towards the garden, only stopping when they duck behind a large shrub. James bends over, catching his breath. Lily flops to the floor, not noticing her skirt rise up. “Usually, the shoes are hidden. Then the groomsmen have to find them. Because, the groom can’t leave the mandap with different shoes. He’ll pay to get them back.” He looks up from the floor. “It’s trad- oh, fuck, Evans.” James points feebly. Lily looks down and blushes, hurrying to push her skirt down from where it has ridden up. At least she’s wearing nice knickers. James turns around, as if to give her privacy, but Lily suspects that might not be the only reason.

“Fun tradition.” She says weakly.

One of the cousins appears, holding the shoes out. “Run.” She says, thrusting them into James’ hand and then darting off down the garden. Lily and James wait until the groomsmen have followed her before slipping from behind the shrub and sneaking back into the house.

“Good trick.” Lily says.

“Oldie but goodie.” James replies, leading her up the stairs. Before they reach the top, another groomsman appears above them.

“Shoes! There!” He yells, before beginning to run down the stairs towards them.

“Fuck. Go go go.” James passes the shoes to Lily and the turn around, taking the steps three at a time until they hit the bottom, James almost skidding over. “Through the kitchen.” He pants, looking over his shoulder. They run through the kitchen, take a left, through a room Lily catches a long enough look at to figure out is the dining room and then take the back stairs up, James pushing her in through the first door they come to. It’s a large bedroom, full of travel trunks and presents.

“Cupboard. In here.” Lily points, noticing the door.

The door slams shut behind them and they’re thrust into the dark, until James whispers lumos and the cupboard is flooded with dim light. In the dark, Lily hadn’t realised how small the cupboard is but, now she can see, she realises that she and Potter’s chests are separated by mere inches. He grins down at her, “Alright, Evans?”

“Never better.” She smiles back up at him, cheeks still flushed from sprinting.

“Shoes?”

She raises the shoes so he can see them. “Check.”

“Merlin, we’re good at this.” James says, “Think I might have to employ you as my fake girlfriend for the next family wedding.”

“Fake?” Without realising it, they’ve moved closer, the shoes squashed between them.

“Well…” Lily can feel herself flushing as James’ head tilts down towards her. Before he can finish his sentence, the door is flung open and they jump apart, Lily’s back crashing into the wall.

28th December, 6pm

Once the groom has divided out the money, Lily finds some seats and collapses thankfully, waiting for James to join her after congratulating the newlyweds. He loops his arm around her when he does and grins. She doesn’t point out the fact that no one is interrogating them so no pretence is needed, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“All in all, not too bad.” James says, stretching his legs out. “Proved my aunt wrong, got diabetes, and made some money.”

“We probably shouldn’t sit so near the food.” Lily laughs, knowing that she won’t be able to eat for at least a week after all the sweets she’s been stuffed with.

He snorts “You do realise they serve dinner, right? You can’t get away from the food.”

“Whatever.” Lily rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to have a nap.”

The kiss he plants on her forehead is so soft, Lily is sure she imagines it.

28th December, 6.30pm

“Merlin’s beard, I can’t believe you actually let me sleep.” Lily jerks her head up and checks her face for drool. Then she punches his shoulder.

James just smiles. “You seemed pretty determined to have a nap.”

“We’re at a wedding! You can’t just fall asleep at a wedding. It’s rude!”

“No one noticed. They’re too busy dancing.” He gestures at the rest of the guests who are, as he rightly said, on the dance floor, dancing to music Lily has only ever heard James and Sirius play. He takes his arm from her shoulder and stands up. “Speaking of dancing…”

“No way. Piss off, am I -” He pulls her up, ignoring her protests, and drags her onto the dancefloor. “I can’t dance! I’m not drunk enough!”

James pulls one of the levitating trays over and hands her a glass of firewhiskey. “Better change that then.”

28th December, 11pm

She says goodbye to Sirius and James’ parents, then they slip out and walk hand in hand to the edge of the protective field. It’s cold and Lily shivers, cursing England for freezing winters without snow.

“I’d offer you my coat but… kurtas don’t come equipped for these situations.” James says, softly rubbing one hand up her arm.

“I’m sure I’ll manage. Witches don’t always need their bo- fake boyfriends coats.” She smiles. “Thank you for today. It was fun.”

“I should be thanking you. You saved me skin, Evans, as you always do.”

“What are friends for?”

“About that…” James runs a hand through his hair and looks at the floor. “You’re great, Evans… like really great. And I love being friends with you. I really do. But. Tonight was, well, tonight was amazing…”

Lily forces a laugh. “Are you fake breaking up with me, Potter?”

“No!” He scuffs his foot through the grass. “I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you.” He says the words so quickly, she’s sure she misheard him. “I know you said you would rather date the giant squid than me -”

“Potter, shut up.” She slips her hand around his neck and pulls him down.

Lily has thought about kissing James Potter a lot. When she’s sleeping, when she’s bored, when she’s in bed, when she’s in class inches away from him, when she’s eating, when she’s in the library, when they were in the cupboard. She’s imagined it so many times, but never considered it actually happening. The reality though, is so much better than any of her day dreams. His lips are soft and he pulls her flush to his chest, warm hands gripping onto her waist, almost as if he can’t believe it’s really happening either and he needs to ground himself.

When their lips part he rests his forehead on hers and smiles, bigger than she’s ever seen him smile before. “Evans. You know you’re perfect, don’t you?”

“Had an inkling I was, yeah.” She laughs breathlessly and gives him a soft kiss. “I’m in love with you too, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.”

He tugs at the end of his hair, a nervous gesture that would once have moved her to reach out and comfort him, but now just makes her want to go at his oil-slicked mop with a pair of scissors. “I thought you’d just been doing that to punish me. That you wanted me to make an effort to seek you out.”

Lily crosses her arms and straightens. “I’m avoiding you because I want to avoid you. As in, not see you anymore, not interact with you, not share oxygen with you, or do anything else with you, now or ever.”

“Lily, please,” and she once thought this tone of voice plaintive and sweet but now just considers it grating and whining, “I miss you! I want to be friends again!”

She eyes him, and for a second feels a flutter of regret, a pang of longing for the little boy with whom she used lie in fields and pick out shapes in clouds. Just for a second though. “Are you still a Neo-Nazi?”

If it’s possible, Severus Snape’s face curdles so that he bears an even closer resemblance to spoilt milk. “Lily, I told you, it’s not like that. The Death Eatery is just an online community of open-minded individuals–”

“Blatant racism and misogyny is open-minded now? Oh please do continue.”

“It’s not misogyny!”

“Of course! What would I know? I’m just a PMS-ing little harlot who needs to think with my head and not my v–”

“I’m sorry!” Snape has a desperate look in his eyes, wincing as she throws him that scalding reminder of his words to her last summer, “I didn’t mean that! I was just angry!”

“That wasn’t anger Sev, that was flat-out verbal abuse. When you’re angry you call someone a dickhead, or a wanker, or a bellend,” he opens his mouth as though to protest, but Lily’s having none of it “allow me to demonstrate: Get out of my face this minute, Severus Snape, you dickhead-wanker-bellend.”

Her voice is loud enough that people are looking now, and Snape crumbles under external pressure, as well she knew he would.

“I’ll call you,” he promises as he turns to leave.

“I’ll kill you,” she answers flatly.

She heaves a sigh as he finally leaves, hating how knackered the exchange has left her. She knows trying to refocus on her work right after that will be futile, and she thinks she’s earned some sustenance by now. With any luck, Remus is still the barista on shift– he usually comps her a cup of tea or a cappuccino.

There is no such luck. Remus is not the barista on shift.

“Well, hello Red!”

What Lily thinks is: the universe despises me. What she says is: “Hello Sirius.” Her smile is tight, and she hopes, not inspiring of any further conversation. She has nothing really against Sirius per se, but where there’s smoke there’s fire, and where there’s Sirius there’s–

“Oi, Prongs! Look who’s here!”

When she scowls at him, incredulous, Sirius simply grins his wolfish grin. “Apologies Red, but loyalties are loyalties and he’d never forgive me if I let him miss you.”

“I hope you’ll forgive him when I castrate you.”

“Alright, Evans?”

And there it is, there’s the voice that’s almost conditioned Lily, Pavlov-style, to search for the nearest heavy object to fling at people.Peace. It was all she wanted. Just a few blissful, uninterrupted, oh-so-wonderful moments of peace. What she gets instead is James Potter, freckled and beaming as he leans against the doorway to the kitchen, dressed not in the barista uniform that Sirius wears, but in dark jeans and a flannel open over a snugly-fitted white t-shirt. His glasses are perched crookedly as ever on the bridge of his nose, and he pulls that classic James Potter-ism of raking a hand through his unruly black curls so that they look freshly tousled and windswept. She kind of wants to sock him in the face.

“Shouldn’t you be in uniform Potter?” she asks, mostly to stop herself from doing just that.

He chuckles. “Like our men in uniform do we?”

Lily is tempted to lose control then and there. “You really are an insufferable pig!”

James holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, sounding anything but that as Sirius snorts in the background. “I’m not in uniform because I don’t work here, Evans, just hang around.”

“Like a vagrant.”

Sirius doesn’t bother to smother his laughter, and she rounds on him. “Are you going to take my order or not? I already ought to have reported you to the manager.”

Sirius grins, amused. “There’s always next time.”

James is shaking his head, looking all affectionate in a way that just irritates Lily even more– everything about him does really. “You heard the lady, Padfoot, hop to it.”

Sirius gives a mock salute. “What can I get for you today?”

His tone is mocking, but Lily’s increasingly desperate need for a hot festive beverage prevails in this instance. “A large gingerbread latte please.”

“Coming right up. And may I just say, you have lovely manners.”

She sniffed. “I aim to lead by example.”

Sirius shakes his head, still grinning. She wonders that his face doesn’t ache, always beaming like that. “For here or to go?”

“To go.”

James has the gall to look concerned. “Are you sure, Evans? It’s chilly out there.”

“That’s what the hot drink’s for, Potter. Anyway why are you still hovering?”

“Moth to a flame, Evans, moth to a flame.”

It’s probably a good thing that Sirius hasn’t produced her drink as yet, because she has a sneaking suspicion it would have wound up decorating James’s pretty face at this point.

When Sirius does finally hand her the paper cup, she pays hastily and marches for the doorway.

“See you round, Evans!” James calls after her.

She runs into Mary as she turns the corner next to the bookstore. “Lily!” Mary blinks. “Where are you going? I thought we were meeting at Broomsticks!” “We were,” Lily says, grabbing Mary by the arm and tugging her along without breaking her stride, “forty-five minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know the Tube line was down for–”

Lily shakes her head, letting go of her friend’s arm when Mary is collected enough to keep up. “Bygones. In other news, we need to find a new café.”

“What, why? I like Broomsticks!”

“And so do all the horsemen of the apocalypse apparently.”

Mary hums. “Potter was there again?”

Lily nods grimly. “Black and Potter, the dynamic duo.” A pause. “And Severus.”

“Oh, bloody hell, what did he want?”

“The usual, a chance to whinge and whine and wheedle for my forgiveness.”

“Did you? Forgive him?”

Lily shakes her head darkly. “He’s still in touch with those internet thugs.”

“Gosh, that horrid Alt-Right reddit page he joined a while back?”

“The very same. And even if he wasn’t…” she swallows, his insults from last summer replaying in her head for the umpteenth time. She shook her head. “I’m done with him.”

Mary rubs her arm comfortingly. “I can’t say I’m too sorry. But I wish you were feeling better.”

“As do I.” She groans. “It’s been a day.”

“Oh, one of those days?” “Those are the ones.” She reaches back to undo her ponytail, combing out the red hair and relishing the biting cool of the wind nipping at her finger as she does it. “I swear, if Vernon and Tuney are still at it by the time I get home I’m done. I’m ferrying to France and never coming back, I’ll become a mime or something. Everyone will leave me alone then.”

Mary laughs. “Well if a getaway is what you want, I might have an easier option. That’s what I wanted to tell you about actually.” “Yeah?”

She nods, eager. “My Aunt Ernesta–” “The one with that dog?” “The one with that dog. Well she runs a B&B up in the Peak District and she called me all flustered yesterday because someone cancelled their bookings for a week from now, which isn’t all that short notice, but it did mean she lost a week’s wages in peak season–ha! Peak. Like Peak D–”

Lily laughed. “I get it. Point please.”

“Right, yes. Anyway, she has this room open a week from now and she calls me and tells me that she can offer a very generous discount to me if I come up and stay because it’s still better than no wage at all and whatnot, but see the thing is I can’t go a week from now, but I hated to disappoint Aunt Ernie, so I told her I could try to find someone else to take the bookings, if she would offer them the discount, and she said yes!”

It’s a testament to their friendship that Lily understands all of this, because Mary spoke mostly in one breath. “How long did you say the bookings were for?”

“Eighteenth night to the twenty-first night.”

“Three days in the Peaks,” Lily muses, and the idea is sorely tempting. “It does sound lovely,” she concedes, “but Mary I’ve got so much to do on my dissertation and–” “Nuh-uh!” Mary claps her hand over Lily’s mouth. “This is exactly why you need to go. She doesn’t even have Wifi or anything up there, just a big bookshelf and a stellar knowledge of the best hiking trails. It might even snow while you’re there, Aunt Ernest said the forecast showed it might– it’ll be wonderful, just a chance to depressurise and unwind, get away from it all.”

The last four words prove Lily’s undoing. A quiet week uninterrupted in the countryside…Peace.

“Alright,” Lily says, and already the excitement starts to mount, “I think I will.”

***

By the time Lily arrives at the little cottage that serves as Ernesta McDonald’s Bread & Breakfast, she’s already halfway into the holiday mindset. There’s a fine drizzle in the air that cloaks the Peaks in a whimsical mist, the sunset sky is tinted lilac, the chill in the air is just this side of festive rather than frigid, and there is honeysuckle growing up-and-down the cottage front. She hefts her bags from the back of the car, and goes into the front of the house, only to be greeted by a small yip-yip-yip sound.

Look, Lily would say she’s a dog person. She’s no expert on them by any stretch of the imagination, but she appreciates pooches in all their fluffy, huggable glory. She loves dogs, really she does. However, the small creature that is quite literally bouncing up-and-down (no, really, the thing is leaping a good three feet with each yip) in front of her scarcely resembles a dog. It looks for all the world like one of those hairless cats, the ones that look like they’ve been turned inside out. It’s scrawny, with fur in scarce patches scrubbed across it’s skin. Not in a pathetic “the poor little thing’s been starved” kind of way either, no, more like it’s fought a lawnmower for fun.

“Hello,” she says, bending to pet it tentatively, because, well she’s not a monster. And the thing, however ugly, is still a dog.

“He likes you!”

Lily turns with a start to see a small, dumpy woman in a floral dress tottering into the room.

“Down, Wilfred. Here, boy!”

The dog–presumably Wilfred– trots happily over to the elderly lady and proceeds to start licking at her moccasins with what appears to be a rather sharp tongue. Lily chides herself for expecting it to be forked.

“Now then, you must be Mary’s friend; I’m her Aunt Ernesta!” A trace of the Scottish lilt that Mary lost when she was little lingers in Aunt Ernesta’s voice, and it makes her sound all warm and matronly.

“Yes, I’m Lily Evans–It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Aunt Ernesta shakes her hand enthusiastically, and Lily is just about to ask about her room when she’s hit by a blast of cold air from the back, signaling the door has opened.

“Oh look,” Ernesta says, beaming, “that must be your fella, I was wondering where he’d got to!”

Lily blinks. “My…fella?” “Oh yes! Mary said you’d be bringing someone–I don’t let ladies stay here alone you know, it would be so improper!” She scuttles off, singing something about a pot of tea.

Unsure whether to respond to the cheerful sexism or correct the mistake first, Lily turns around slowly, with a mounting sense of dread and.

No. No.

No.

Because standing there in a jauntily rumpled peacoat and scarf, looking as though someone has just thrown him a marvelous surprise party, is James Potter.

The grin spreads across his face slowly and all-consumingly, like a forest fire. “Fancy seeing you here, Evans.”

***

“It’s a coincidence, I swear!” Mary sounds desperate, but also like she’s choking on laughter, which does little to help Lily’s mood.

“You told your Aunt I’d bring a bloke! Why would you do that?”

“Sorry! Aunt Ernesta’s really old-fashioned like that, doesn’t believe in women traveling alone and all that. I told her that to stop her knickers from getting in a twist, that’s all, I didn’t think she’d actually remember!”

“How? How would she not remember?” hisses Lily into the phone, “she made a reservation for two. Two! And now James bloody Potter’s here and she thinks he’s my boyfriend! Tell me you had nothing to do with this!”

“Of course I didn’t! I promise, I had no idea he would be there. I’m really sorry Lils!”

Lily slides down the wall of the cottage, groaning. “Oh God, I swear, if the bastard’s stalking me…”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Mary reassures her, “it’s just a little mix-up.” Lily catches a low voice in the background, and Mary’s giggle.

“Ooh, is that the mystery boyfriend?” she asks, grinning in spite of herself.

“Oh, shut up,” but Lily can hear the blush in Mary’s voice. Mary has kept her current boyfriend a jealously guarded secret for reasons no one can fathom, but all that means is that Lily, Marlene and Dorcas tease her even more mercilessly than they usually would. “I have to go now!”

Lily groans. “Fine, go, have fun, abandon me to Potter and your archaic Aunt.”

“Play nice, Lily!”

There’s a click as Mary hangs up and for a moment, Lily just stares at the phone in despondent silence. She feels rather than hears Potter appear behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps.

“I have a scientific interest in exactly how long it will take for a human body to freeze into a hunk of ice. You know, Captain America style, preserved.” “It’s not that cold out here! And anyway, you know full well that’s not what I meant.” She glances up to glower at him, he’s leaning against the doorway with his glasses perched crookedly on his nose, because really the bloody things never stay on straight, and when Lily’s not actively wanting to punch him, she’s always tempted to readjust them.

He shrugs, and bloody hell even that seems to smack of that infuriating James Potter smugness. “This is as happy an accident for you as it is for me, Evans. Kismet and all.”

Her eyes narrow. “Oh really? You just happened to show up at the very same very obscure B&B at the very same time I did?”

He grins, and Lily can see that however impossible the situation is, he’s genuinely as surprised as she is. “Like I said–kismet.”

Abruptly, Lily stands, dragging a hand over her face. “Well, come on,” she said, “we better go fix this.”

James sighs, expression sobering a little. “Look, Evans, we can’t tell her, she’ll definitely kick you out then.”

“Me? Why would I get kicked out?–I got here first!” Yes, she knows she sounds petulant, no, she does not care.

He actually looks sheepish. “Look I’d leave immediately if I thought it would help but…” he rubs at the back of his neck in a gesture that seems both very un-James Potter and completely natural all at once, “I’m pretty sure Miss McDonald’s, ah, rule only extends to….girls.” Seeing Lily is incensed, he holds up both hands placatingly. “It’s not like I agree with her or anything, just, she didn’t say anything to me about having to bring a girlfriend when I booked.”

Lily glowers at him, trying her best to somehow tie an old woman’s deeply internalized misogyny back to him. “What are you suggesting Potter?”

He has the gall to look amused, the prick. “You’re a smart girl Evans, I think you know.”

***

“I remember my first Christmas with Rupert,” Ernesta says, wiping at her eyes, “there was snow…we used to take walks in the wood by moonlight.” She waggles her eyebrows. “It was when he proposed you know.”

James chokes on his tea and Lily’s already forced smile warps slightly. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet, Aunt Ernesta.”

“You never know dear,” the lady answers, pouring more tea from a truly ghastly pink porcelain teapot, “Christmas can make one do marvelous things!”

Lily forces herself to swallow back some acerbic remarks about how one is more likely to be murdered by a family member on Christmas than on any other day of the year, but her fingernails cut crescents into her palm from how tightly her fists curl.

James, apparently sensing that his pseudo-girlfriend is about three seconds from right-hooking an OAP in the face, stretches his arms out with an obscenely long, loud yawn. “Thank you for the lovely tea,” he says, all charm, “but I’m knackered. Would you mind showing us the room?”

“Of course dear!” The old lady busies herself with clearing away plates and cups whilst James and Lily hoist themselves up from the sofa and pick up their bags.

Their room is at the end of the rickety upstairs corridor, and Lily doesn’t hear any of Aunt Ernesta’s cheerful explanations about what’s where, because her attention becomes solely focused on one detail she forgot all about.

There’s only one bed. It’s a double bed, but not a large one, but it takes up the bulk of the floorspace. In fact the longer Lily looks at it the more space it seems to occupy. She mumbles a goodnight to Ernesta, before turning slowly, measuredly, to look at James.

She expects him to be looking either oblivious or suggestive, but to her surprise, he seems to be blushing.

“Well,” she says.

“Well.”

“One bed.”

“Two of us.” There’s a pause before James speaks again. “I could take the floor?”

Lily scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

James arches an eyebrow. “I’m being polite!”

“You’re being patriarchal!”

He splutters. “Ernesta was being patriarchal, that’s why we’re here!”

She scowls. “Are you prepared to behave like an adult?”

He says nothing, but eyes her warily.

“We might as well carry off this charade properly. There’s room in the bed for both of us, so if you don’t try anything funny–”

Potter has the gall to look offended. “I would never do that!”

“Then I suppose we can just. Share.”

“Share?”

She crosses her arms across her chest and nods tightly, before scooping her nightclothes from the bag and sweeping into the bathroom to change. When she re-emerges, James has changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a Puddlemere United football t-shirt. She has no idea why, but she gets the sense that he’s only wearing a shirt for her benefit, but sticking with that line of thoughts seems superbly unhelpful.

They climb into the bed and lie on their backs, covers pulled to their chins.

Lily stares at the ceiling. “Good night, Potter.” She can feel his heat across the bed.

The grin in his voice is almost audible. “Sleep well Evans.”

***

Lily wakes up, to her horror, with her hair splayed across James Potter’s chest, and for one terrifying moment several awful scenarios play through her head before she reorients herself and remembers her situation. The sleeping James, fortunately, seems blissfully oblivious to his status as an animate pillow, still dead to the world with his arms folded behind his head. She extricates herself from him and the sheets carefully, swearing as she rolls out of bed only to be greeted by the bitingly cold air of the bedroom. As per habit, she checks her phone, charging by her bedside. There are about seventy unread messages.

lily im sorry

plz lily where r u

call me

we need to talk

i miss u!!

LILY

ur being unreasonable

“You bloody git,” she hisses.

“I’m sure you’re right,” James says, groggy and sleep-slow, “but what exactly did I do this time?”

Lily shuffles round to glare at him, and is temporarily taken aback by his appearance. He looks rumpled, in the real way, not his usual deliberately styled manner, a little disoriented without his glasses.“Believe it or not, Potter, the world does not revolve around you!”

James sits up, his ridiculous hair stuck out in ridiculous directions. “Really? But I have such natural gravity.” “So do black holes.”

He chuckles. “Touché.”

She huffs a sigh, annoyed at his good humour and the fact that the skin at his collar is flushing…not prettily. Interestingly. “It’s Severus.”

As she suspected, his face clouds instantly and his eyes go hard. “Is he bothering you?”

“Leave it, James, this is nothing to do with your vendetta against Severus.”

“Yeah? And what about my vendetta against slimy racists with terrible hair?”

“Just…leave it.” Lily hates this, hates the reminder that there’s no feasible reason for her to stick up for her former best friend against his long time tormentor anymore. Hates the fact she feels guilty for complaining about Severus to James when he more than deserves it.

James looks sidelong at her, as though he’d considering saying something more in the subject, but apparently thinks the better of it. “Let’s go for a walk Evans.”

“What?”

“A walk. We take in the brisk peaks air and all that. I hear it’s the done thing.”

Lily bristles. “And what makes you think we would be doing anything? I came here alone as you jolly well remember.”

A flicker of something–hurt? but it couldn’t be, not on Potter–flickers across his face but disappears. “Right. Of course.”

“I mean it’s not like you were planning on spending your trip with me either!”

James shakes his head. “Nope. With Sirius.”

That confuses her a moment. “What? Where is your other half?”

He tilts his head to the side eyeing her curiously. “He changed plans a while ago. Wanted to spend the holiday with his new girlfriend.”

Lily’s brow furrows. “Sirius doesn’t have a girlfriend. Does he? Who’s his girlfriend?”

Before James has a chance to respond, her phone pings again.

srsly lily, where r u???

To his credit, Potter doesn’t so much as blink when she flings the phone across the room and onto her suitcase with a muffled shriek.

“I get the feeling you’re just now realising everyone hates Snape.”

She rounds on him, a fraying cord inside her snapping. “I am angry with him because he hurt me and made horrible decisions based on his grossly bigoted beliefs that I’ve recently discovered. You picked on him when you didn’t know him because you’re an arrogant toerag.”

The phone pings again and Lily seriously considers lobbing it out the window and into the gaping valley of the Peak District, and at that moment, she wants nothing more than to get the incessant buzzing of Severus Snape out of her space.

“You still up for a walk Potter?”

He’s put his glasses on, and he’s so taken aback by her question that he knocks them off-kilter, and for a maddening few moments she wants nothing more than to reach out and straighten them.

“You’re not going to push me off a hill are you?”

“I make no promises.”

He grins, as lopsided as his glasses. “I like a challenge.”

***

“You can’t see the air!”

“Yes you can! The leaves are rustling–”

“Because of the wind. And you can’t see that either, you can see the leaves!”

“It’s implicit.”

“The game’s called I Spy, James, not I Imply.”

“You’re a literature student, implication is your bread-and-butter!”

“That’s interpretation. Or inference.”

“Semantics.”

They haven’t made it through a single round of the game without bickering yet, and they’re playing the game because it turns out neither one of them was really cut out for tranquil country walks.

“Aren’t you glad you have me?” James asks, beaming, “you’d have had to talk to the trees otherwise.”

“They’d provide more stimulating conversation,” she quipped, “I bet trees have done some things worth hearing about.”

James, apparently taking this as a signal, gives a whoop and slings himself upwards to hang off the lowest branch of an overhead tree.

A surprised laugh escapes her. “What on earth are you doing Tarzan?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never climbed a tree before!”

She folds her arms. “I’ll have you know I have climbed many trees. What you’re doing James is not climbing. It’s dangling.”

“Dangling?”

“Yes. Climbing is about defying gravity, dangling is about flirting with it.”

James eyebrows disappear behind his hair. “Are you calling me a flirt?”

Lily rolls her eyes and hoists herself onto the branch next to him, then stretched up and clambered onto the next brach. “I’m calling you a terrible climber.”

He laughed, a surprised delighted sound. “Oh yeah?”

James falls off the tree about halfway up and Lily is wearing half its leaves in her hair, jeering in victory at the highest branch by the time he finally clambers up.

“Alright,” he puffs, winded, “I admit you maybe a somewhat faster climber–” “I’m glorious, James, admit it.”

He grins. “Gladly. Glorious. Resplendent. Luminous.”

She shoves at him, suddenly embarrassed, and then almost has a heart attack when he swings backwards so he’s dangling upside down with his legs wrapped around the branch and his head pointing downwards.

“Why the acrobatics?” she demands.

He tilts his head just enough to look at her. “We used to see who could hang off for longest, or who could swing off and land the farthest.”

Lily slips down to a lower branch so she doesn’t have to crane as far to look at him. “By ‘we’ you mean you and your pack of marauders yes?”

He chuckles. “Of course.” He snorts nostalgically. “You know Lupin used to be the best at it?”

“Remus? Really?”

“He’s more flexible than you could believe. He ought to run away and join the circus if you ask me. Still he used to try talk us out of it all the time. I think he got sick of hauling us home with broken limbs and concussions.”

Lily giggled in spite of herself. “I imagine you hooligans got quite a few of those.”

James pulls a ridiculous maneuver which involves flipping almost upright and tugging upwards so that he’s straddling the branch next to her. “You could say that. One time Peter fell off and I tried to grab him.”

“Let me guess–you went down with him?”

He ducks his head, smiling. “Like the Titanic. And the branch flung back so hard it sent Sirius flying to.” He glances up to look at her and he’s actually blushing. “Lupin had to pile the three of us onto a sled and drag us home.”

Lily has to laugh at that, toss her head back and laugh loud enough that the sound bounces around the forest. “Good lord.”

James looks at her carefully. “You have a nice laugh,” he says, and she quiets, stares at him, waiting for the next joke, the crass pickup line. “So how did you learn to climb?” is what he says.

She plays with the ends of her hair. “Tuney and I used to fight like nobody’s business. The only way I could get any peace around the house was to scale a tree. Tuney never liked getting her hands dirty so she never bothered following me up there.”

And then there had been all those afternoons with Severus, their legs hanging off the boughs and their backs pressed against the barks, talking and whiling away the hours in the shade. But she doesn’t mention those because Severus isn’t Severus anymore and James…this is still James Potter. She jumps down abruptly. “We should head back.”

“Um. Sure.”

She sees her glancing at her with a concerned expression, but she ignores it. She stuffs her hands back in her pockets as she starts marching briskly down the path. “Keep up Potter,” she calls when she doesn’t hear him following her.

James opens his mouth, then thinks the better of it and keeps going.

***

The tea is hot and smells of cinnamon, and Lily might have been able to enjoy it had it not been for the fact that she’s distracted by the fact that Aunt Ernesta’s front room looks like Christmas threw up in it. There is a complete Nativity scene of porcelain figures set up in the fireplace, as well as a miniature one on the windowsill and another in the middle of the dining table. A wicker reindeer roughly the size of a St Bernard stands in one corner of the room, a tree laden with six trees worth of ornaments in the other, and white-and-silver streamers hang from the walls.

“This is beautiful,” James says mildly, and Ernesta is effusive as she ushers them to sit on the little love-seat.

“I don’t do Christmas by halves dear, not when there are guest. I know I was late about decorating this year, but I had to do it! It’s your first Christmas together after all!”

Lily smiles indulgently and takes a sip of tea to avoid having to say anything.

“So I’ve already told you about my first Christmas with Rupert,” Ernesta says, reaching across the low coffee table to pat Lily’s hand, “now you two must tell me a little about yourselves. How did you meet?”

She feels James freeze beside her briefly. Impromptu as their charade was, they never actually came up with a backstory for their supposed relationship. “We went to school together,” James says, and Lily supposes being truthful wherever possible is smart.

“Ah,” Ernesta leans back, beaming knowingly, “childhood sweethearts.”

“Hardly,” Lily can’t stop herself. “I couldn’t stand him–” James coughs slightly–“at first.”

“I was a bit of an idiot,” he concedes, “I peacocked and pranced a lot, and impressed just about everyone except her.”

“He tried to ask me out and I told him he’d have better luck with one of the pigeons that hung around are school,” she reminisces, a little amused.

“I was pretty much gone from that point on,” and Lily has to look at him because he sounds warm and fond, but completely sincere, “she didn’t buy into any of my sh-my nonsense. Called me out on all my stupidity. And she’s always sought the best in people,” he goes on, and Lily gets the strange feeling he’s forgotten Ernesta’s even there, “all the people I’d look at as plain or boring she’d look at as…as people. And yeah, I guess that’s what made me love her.”

Lily has to taken another swig of tea quickly, though it doesn’t really help with the fact that her cheeks feel hot. She looks at James but his eyes are fixed determinedly on the porcelain Wise Men in the fireplace.

Ernesta, meanwhile, is in raptures. “And you dear,’ she turns to Lily, “when did you change your mind about the young man?”

Lily’s hand stills halfway between lowering the cup back to the saucer.

James shifts a little in his chair, grinning, and she realises the bastard’s enjoying this.

“It was a more…recent development. For me,” she says. “We um–reconnected? After we both went to different universities. I think once I realised he was more mature than he had been, and that underneath all the preening and prancing he really cares about people, I would say that was when I fell for him.”

She expects James to say something annoying but he doesn’t.

“Well,” she says standing up and draining the last of the tea, “this was, as usual, lovely, but I think I ought to go to bed now.”

James follows quickly. “You’re right. Come on sugarplum,” he says, taking her arm, and she digs her nails into his hand as subtly as she can. They’re halfway out the doorway when Ernesta leaps to her feet clapping with glee.

“Oh would you look at that!” she cries.

Somehow, Lily knows what she’s going to find before she cranes her head slowly upwards to see the cluster of mistletoe suspended above them. She looks at James sharply and his expression is as helpless as hers.

“Don’t be shy, it’s all in the spirit!” Ernesta says.

It’s obvious what has to happen. It would be awkward enough for two random people to refuse to adhere to tradition, and Lily and James are supposed to be a couple. Her eyes meet James’s again, and this time, they both lean in, slow and tentative. His lips are on hers then, warm and gentle, just a quick press of the mouth, and then he’s gone. Lily can still feel the ghost of his warmth against hers.

“Good night,” she splutters to Ernesta, and then hurries down the corridor.

James doesn’t speak the rest of the evening, which confuses her. It’s James Potter, there should be some ribbing or teasing or–something. But no, he barely meets her eyes, and when they crawl into bed, he angles himself away so she can’t see his face.

***

“Potter. Potter. Potter. James! James, get up!”

“Mmph!” James finally stirs under Lily’s poking and rubs his eyes. “Whassamatter?” he asks, garbled, “you alright?”

In lieu of a reply she points out the window, gleeful and waits for him to take in the gleaming blinding whiteness of the snow that blankets the hilly vista.

It seems to hit him at once, and he shivers, pulling the cover up to his chin. “Did you wake me up to look at snow, Evans?”

She rolls her eyes as she starts pulling on a coat and hat. “No, Potter, I woke you up to play in the snow.”

“You could play by yourself you know,” he says.

She doesn’t reply for a moment. “I’ve played by myself in the snow a lot. I reckon it’s more fun with others.”

He groans. “Are you going to repeatedly use your depressing lonely childhood to coerce me into doing things?”

She tuts at him. “I didn’t have a depressing lonely childhood, I had a terrible sister who hated getting her hair wet and refused to play with me, not to mention a best friend who ended up half-dead of pneumonia every time he got caught in a strong gust of wind.” She freezes for a moment when she realises she’s crossed the strings she refuses to cross–complaining about Severus and talking to Potter–but nothing happens. James simply hauls himself out of the bed and half stumbles to the suitcases.

“What?” he says when he sees her watching him. “It’s enough of a sob story to guilt trip me into playing in snow at an ungodly hour of the morning!”

“It’s seven-thirty.” “It’s the holidays!”

Their bickering takes them all the way outside where it of course culminates in Lily lobbing a snowball at his face. She grins as he blinks behind his glasses, which have been knocked askew and are quickly fogging up.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warns darkly, before scooping up his own handful of snow and hurling it at her. Lily shrieks and tries to dodge it before it lands in her hair, rivulets of melting snow running down the red tresses.

“Oh you’re for it Potter.”

They are both, as it turns out, unabashedly competitive, and waste no time in turning the snowball fight into an all out war.

James abandons the balls completely and ends up more or less tossing fistfuls of snow as far as he can, whilst Lily prefers packing her snow tightly and to the size of melons before getting as close as she can to him and crushing the whole thing into his face. Eventually the snowball fight devolves into some sort of wrestling where James keeps trying to pick Lily up and dump her in a pile of snow and Lily keeps trying to shove the stuff down the back of his shirt. They end up collapsed in a heap on the floor, and Lily laughs till she can’t breathe and her sides hurt.

“I can’t believe,” he says, gasping with laughter as he lies back in the snow, “that you’ve spent years–years–calling me the marauder when you’re a weapon of mass destruction unto yourself.”

“Actually,” she says, “you lot called yourselves Marauders as you well know. And it’s not my fault I’m better at snowball fights than you.”

James snorts and then shimmies away from her slightly. He tilts his head to grin at her. “Snow angels?”

“Of course.”

They spend a good ten minutes waving their arms and legs about until their snow angels are so deep they have to scrabble to stand up again.

“I think that’s the closest you’ve ever come to angelic, James,” she declares as they examine their handiwork.

“I’ll have you know I’m positively saintlike,” he says, and Lily snorts. “Snow puts you in a good mood,” he notes.

“Could you tell?” she laughs.

He flushes a little. “Nah, I just meant…you don’t hate me when it snows.”

Lily blinks. The polite response would be “I never hate you,” but given that she’s spent years professing the exact opposite, that would seem a little insincere. She stares at him and realises that no, the face of her longtime nemesis does not, at this moment, annoy her. If anything, she feels a pang of affection for him, what with his hair mussed and damp and his glasses all frosted.

“You’re not obnoxious when it snows,” she decides, and brushes another bit of snow on his nose.

***

It’s evening when the snow starts to fall in the sky, and at first it’s pretty. James sticks his tongue out to try catch the falling flakes, and Lily laughs as they tangle in his hair, the little white dots spangled across his black curls like stars against the sky. They’re in her hair too, the endless stream of red now peppered with white, and they start singing The Sound of Music when she points out the snow gathers on her nose and eyelashes.

Of course, when the snow starts falling torrentially, it stops being fun and starts being cold and wet. “We..sh-sh-should g-g-g-go b-b-back.” Lily’s chattering so hard it’s nearly impossible to speak.

“Mmhmm.” James nods and crinkles his nose, which is red with cold.

The walk back is long and stiff, their limbs barely moving, all frigid and achy. It’s a relief to burst into the warmth of the room at last, and there’s some commotion as they try divesting themselves of boots and scarves and hats without dripping water everywhere.

“You can shower first,” she tells him, “I’ll have to wash my hair and everything.”

Thankfully, he finishes quickly. “I’m going down to see if I can’t beg Aunt Ernesta for some toast,” he says.

The hot water of the shower is an instant relief, and Lily feels the soreness and coldness ebb out of her with the steam. She bundles herself up in a towel when she’s done and reaches for her nightshirt, and swears when she promptly drops it into a puddle of water on the floor. She picks it up gingerly between two fingers, scowling when she sees it’s soaked through.

The warmth of the shower is quickly beginning to wear away as her eyes dart hurriedly round the bedroom looking desperately for something to wear. She grabs the first t-shirt she spots and tugs it over her head gratefully, and is just starting to towel dry her hair when James walks in.

Or, more precisely, he opens the door and walks promptly into the doorframe before standing there for a moment, rubbing his head and looking slightly dazed. Lily feels the blush creeping up her neck, because the image of James under the door frame brings to mind, unbidden, the memory of their kiss under the mistletoe. The blush intensifies when she glances down and realises what he’s staring at–the shirt she pulled on is his Puddlemere United one, and it’s the only thing she’s wearing now. She is suddenly hyperaware of the fact that the word POTTER is spelled out in red block letters across the back, and she swallows. “Um. Sorry. I dropped my shirt in water and I didn’t have anything else on hand so–”

“No, no, it’s fine,” James shakes himself a little. “It’s fine.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Lily clears her throat. “Well. Good night James.”

“Good night Lily.”

They crawl into bed. Lily tries to sleep, but she can’t get warm. Her legs are speckled with goosebumps, and she shivers a little. She inches, just slightly, towards James, towards the heat emanating off his body. What? Body heat is important! It’s slightly better but still not enough, so again she inches slightly closer, as close as she can without actually intruding on his side of the bed.

Lily had thought James was already asleep, but apparently not, because, much to her mortification, he turns around to look at her, a little sleepy but awake nonetheless. He’s kind of adorable like this, but she doesn’t think about that. “C’mere Evans,” he mumbles, and she freezes for a moment when he drapes an arm around her and nudges her gently so her back is facing him. But he’s warm and she’s tired and he’s soft, and she can tell what he’s going for so she lets him tug her back so she’s pressed against him and his arm around her waist.

Look, it’s for warmth okay? The fact that it’s comfortable is an unexpected perk that means nothing.

She falls asleep in minutes.

***

“I never asked,” Lily says “when are you supposed to leave?”

James swallows his mouthful of toast. “Tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“Same.”

He nods slowly. “I suppose that works out quite well,” his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “be awful suspicious for Ernesta is we took off at separate times.”

“Scandalous.” “Sacrilegious.”

“So,” Lily says, grinning at him, “what are we going to do for the last day?” There seems no point in pretending that this is a separate holiday anymore, and, for reasons she refuses to examine, Lily finds she doesn’t really want to.

James glances out the window. The snow has stopped falling, but it hasn’t started melting yet. “Is it really pathetic. if I say I just want to…” he ducks his head, “I don’t know, hang out?”

Lily hides her smile in her cup of tea. “Maybe. But that’s okay, I can deal with pathetic.”

They end up building a blanket fort in the room like real adults.

“Sirius and I used to make these all the time, when he stayed with us over holidays,” James says.

“Is that where you got your expertise from?” Lily asks, nudging the walls of the fort with her elbow. “This is structurally pretty superb.”

He grins. “Practice makes perfect.”

“So,” she says, “what do we do now?”

James pretends to think hard. “Traditionally,” he says, “I believe we commence with Truth or Dare.”

She snorts. “What are we, twelve?”

“What we are is sitting in a blanket fort, Lily.” He grins and it’s a bright, happy grin, without any edge of smugness or arrogance, and Lily finds she adores it.

“Fine. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“Take your shirt off and lean out the window for a full minute.”

He raises an eyebrow. “If you wanted my shirt off Evans you only had to ask.”

Lily refuses to blush and just waits. James shrugs and tugs his shirt off, and fine, the view is admittedly far from unpleasant. He saunters over to the window, opens it, and leans out.

“Shit!” he hisses, “It’s freezing!”

Lily cackles. “Time starts now!”

James is almost blue in the face when he crawls back into the fort.

“That was cruel,” he complains.

Lily grins. “Your turn.”

“Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

The game goes on for a while before it starts to get intense.

“Truth,” Lily says.

“Why are you…why don’t you act like you hate me anymore?”

The question takes her by surprise. “I guess I don’t,” she says, “hate you. Anymore.”

The look on his face does something to her chest and she has to look away a moment.

“Truth or Dare?” she asks.

“Truth.”

“Why were you such a dick to Sev back in the day?”

He eyes her warily, and she feels a little bad. If there’s one line of conversation that could turn ugly, this is it. “Because I was a dick,” he answers simply, shrugging. “I was a spoilt brat who’d never had anyone say no to him so I did what I wanted. That’s why I started being a dick to him.”

The honesty is unexpected and she’s quiet for a moment. “Oh.”

His expression darkens. “I’d feel worse about it though if he wasn’t–” he cuts himself off abruptly but Lily finishes for him.

“If he wasn’t such a malevolent shitweasel?”

He stares at her before cracking a wry grin. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Everyone would always ask you know,” she says, sighing, “why I was friends with him. I fought with everyone on it. Mary, Marlene, my parents…everyone.”

He’s quiet, lets her talk.

“I spent years telling everyone he was just misunderstood, putting myself on the line for him, and it turns out I was an idiot.” She hates that her voice is so small.

“You’re not and idiot,” James says, voice low, “don’t you ever think that. An unwavering desire to believe the best in people doesn’t make you an idiot. It makes you…it makes you you.”

She stares at him. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why’d you stop hating me?”

His tone is light, teasing, but Lily detects a desperation behind the words. She considers befor answering. “I’ve never…this was…you were real,” she says finally. “Not just prancing around for a show. I don’t know if it’s because you’re by yourself here or what but…you’re just you here.”

He swallows.

“Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” There seems to be an unspoken agreement that this is the game now, an unfettered excuse to learn each other in ways they haven’t before.

“What do you do?” she asks.

The question seems to surprise him. “Huh?”

“Like…your job. What do you do? I have no idea what it is you actually do.”

He blinks. “Oh. Um. I…you know Broomsticks?”

She frowns. “Yeah.”

“I kind of own it.”

“Kind of?”

“I am the owner and manager,” he admits, and looks embarrassed.

“Wait, what? So that’s why you’re always lurking there?”

He grins sheepishly. “You could say that.”

“And…Remus and Sirius and Peter…they work for you?”

His expression sobers. “Well, yeah. Remus needed money. To pay for his postgrad stuff, you know? And he’s too stubborn to just take a loan so…”

“So you built a cafe? So you could pay your friend? Is that what I’m hearing?”

He blushes. “I mean it’s not like a massive amount I pay him or anything, and he works hard so it’s not freebies or…” he tails off when he sees Lily’s still staring at him.

She can’t help it them, it seems almost inevitable. She surges forward and kisses him, properly this time. He makes a surprised noise against her mouth, but recovers almost instantly, carding his hand through her hair and pulling her into his lap. Her arms wind around his neck and she is, in that moment, completely and breathlessly happy just surrounded by the scent and the feel and the everything of James Potter.

When they pull away at last it’s because she’s smiling too hard for him to kiss her properly.

“Hi,” she says, biting on her lip.

“Hi.” He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you…was that…are you…”

She grins and bumps her nose against his. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, I like you.”

“You spent years hating me!”

“You spent years being a prick.”

“But…it’s been three days!”

“You were good for three days.”

He smiles, a smile that spreads slowly across his whole face. “That’s all it took, huh? Three days?”

It’s Lily’s turn to blush.

James just tugs her in again and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Evans?”

“Hmm?”

“It took me three seconds.”

***

“Hello?”

“Red?”

Lily stares at the phone in bewilderment and glances up at James, who’s taking his turn behind the wheel on their drive back–he’d come by train so it just made sense for him to join her in the car. Also, it means they can snog at every red light, which is of course a plus. “Is that Sirius?” she asks.

James nods, lip quirking as though he’s fighting back a smile.

“Sirius,” she says, “why are you answering Mary’s phone?”

“Um…” There’s some shuffling sounds on the other end of the phone, and a murmur of voices. All at once, it clicks.

“Mary MacDonald,” Lily yells, because she knows Mary’s there, “is Sirius Black your secret boyfriend?”

“Er…yes.” Mary’s voice comes through the phone.

“Why on Earth didn’t you tell me?” Lily splutters.

“I didn’t want you freaking out about the fact that I was dating Potter’s best friend!” she cried, “I didn’t want to tell you till it was serious and you’d have to start seeing James around more…”

Lily grins sidelong at James. “I see. And is it serious?”

Mary’s voice is small, but unmistakably happy when she says. “I–I think so…”

“Well then” Lily says, “I suppose I’ll have to be prepared to be seeing a lot more of James then.”

She freezes, poised with her pen above the coffee cup.

“Uh, is everything all right?”

She laughs a little to dissipate the tension. “Um, sorry, did you say James?”

“Uh…yeah?”

His slow reply matches his slow steps retreating from the counter. He doesn’t need coffee that badly.

“Like..James Potter? Like the guy who-”

“Yes. Yes, and I am so sorry.” Everything comes quickly rushing out.

“You didn’t even let me finish-”

“No, I know. It’s the hydrochloric acid incident?”

She starts to giggle.

Why is she laughing?? Am I in an alternate universe!?

“Yeah, freshman year. You spilled this super dilute hydrochloric acid on my lab coat. 0.001 molar, I think? You went crazy.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? I spilled like 10 molar acid on you.”

“I mean, you should really label your chemicals. I’m fairly certain it was dilute, else I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you, holding your coffee cup.”

“Well. That is a huge relief. I thought I killed you or at least seriously burned you.”

“And you didn’t even stay behind to make sure I wasn’t dead?”

“Yeah, chemistry really isn’t my strong suit. Anyway, I kind of really need the coffee, so..” He sheepishly smiles, gesturing toward the coffee.

“Come on, give me a break, you spilled hydrochloric acid on me.” She smirks.

“I was just so nervous that I got to sit next to you.” His smile widens.

“What?” Her face, confused.

His smile falters as he realizes what he said. Oh god, say something else. Say something else, anything. “Uh, you know, I switched majors because of that.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

“I switched majors.”

“No, before that.”

“Nothing! Just…coffee.” He gestures more vigorously at the coffee cup this time.

“James Potter. Did you have a crush on me?” Her smile is back on full and her eyes are twinkling.

“Um…….” His hand goes to ruffle his hair before he brings both hands to cover his face. “Yes,” he muffles.

“Well, good. I had a crush on you. So there.”

He uncovers his face in surprise, watching her as she writes “James” and, underneath, a phone number on the coffee cup.

He stands there in shock as she fills it up with the house coffee.

“Here you go.” She smiles as she hands him the coffee.

He recovers from his shock clumsily, nearly spilling the hot liquid.

“My God, do you spill things on all the girls?” She jokes.

His heart thumps as he manages to hold onto the coffee. When he finally rights himself, he looks at her and grins.

“What, why?” James demanded.

“Classism,” Remus answered shortly.

“Classism?” Sirius looked positively scandalized at the accusation.

“Maybe the people who use this site don’t like meeting people who think all farmers square dance and watch Larry the Cable Guy. Or maybe they do, but they want to meet someone who doesn’t think those things are worthy of mockery,” Remus said.

“What’s the point of life if you can’t laugh at yourself, Moony? In fact…” Sirius pulled out his cell and started typing.

In the beleaguered way Remus did most things – mouth pursed into a half-frown and eyes aimed heavenward as if for guidance – Remus returned to watching the game. As James’ team was in the process of scoring a particularly harrowing touchdown, James did as well, but he kept half an eye on Sirius, knowing that his friend would be up to something.

The answer came fifteen minutes later when Sirius proudly presented his phone to James for inspection. A picture of James in a plain, white t-shirt– the picture he’d taken at a bar a year ago as proof to his mom that he was leading a perfectly respectable life, explaining why he looked so wholesome – stared back at him from his new FarmersOnly profile page.

“Piss off,” James said, delighted. He pulled the phone out of Sirius’s hands entirely so that he could scroll through his new profile at his leisure.

“I think we’ve discovered why you’ve never found love, James. Looking in all the wrong places,” Sirius said sagely. “But your perfect corn-fed, cow-milking bride is on there somewhere. I can feel it.”

“Corn-fed?” Remus muttered to himself. “Like you didn’t devour that corn bread at lunch yesterday.”

James ignored Remus because, frankly, he was having too much fun to worry about whether it was elitist of them to sit around mocking the many people in the world longing for a more “traditional” approach to dating. Or as traditional as it could be when it emerged from a dating website. Certainly, it was more fun that admitting that he and Sirius were spoiled rotten and vastly underequipped to live in the manner that so many did. The closest they’d ever been to country-living was when they went camping, and even then, it was really glamping with an RV that had a power strip, a mini fridge stocked with chilled beers, and a hairdryer to protect them from going without for even a second.

Since Sirius had set up the profile from his own phone, he’d been forced to use pictures of James that he had saved in his gallery. All things considered, Sirius had chosen generously, and the image of James that began to take shape on the screen was nowhere near as ridiculous as James might have expected. Given time, James had no doubt that Sirius would have broken out Photoshop to place James in any manner of embarrassing locations – the Icecapades, the assassination of JFK, a Denny’s.

It was in the about section that Sirius had let loose, giving James an assortment of stereotypical country hobbies. For James’ description of an ideal woman, Sirius had written: “Sturdy enough to help with the housework and aware that patience is a virtue. I’m a strong believer in the value of waiting.” James read all of this aloud to Remus, who was clearly amused despite his protests.

“Not a single girl is going to talk to you with a profile like that. People can tell when they’re being demeaned,” Remus warned.

Sirius scoffed. “Have you looked at James’ handsome face? Girls will forget about anything when they see a jaw like that. Kind of like men and legs actually.”

“Yeah, Moony, don’t you think I’m handsome?” James said, before giving his most winning smile.

He started to flip through the different profiles to see if any girl caught his eye. His search wasn’t serious, of course, as he had only to switch over to Tinder to find any number of girls, most of whom weren’t touting their interest in traditional values, which suited James just fine. He was a guy after all. Still, he wouldn’t say no to a stunning blonde in denim cut-offs…

“Besides, James is rich,” Sirius reminded them. “These country girls would dream of a guy like him. A hero to swoop in and show them the delights of the city.”

“You do know that farmers have a lot of money, right?” Remus demanded, completely exasperated at this point. “They’re land-owners. You don’t even own this apartment.”

“Not if they’re farm-hands,” Sirius pointed out, his smile screaming ‘check and mate.’ “And I bet most of these so-called land-owners don’t have hair-gel inheritance money.”

“I bet they have more than disowned at sixteen money,” Remus muttered.

Next thing James knew, his two friends were wrestling on the floor. Remus had Sirius in a headlock that forced Sirius to hunch his body nearly in half but did nothing to prevent him from jabbing Remus repeatedly in the ribs. Ignoring them as this was a bi-weekly occurrence, James continued to scroll through his options. He’d already grown bored – eyes drifting to the game as often as to his phone screen – when he came across it. Her.

“Holy –! Guys look at this!” James cried. Since neither of them stopped wrestling to pay him any attention, James slid off the couch and dangled the phone in front of Sirius’s puce and sweat-soaked face. “Look at this girl!”

“She’s hot,” Sirius agreed before getting his finger into Remus’s mouth and pulling him into a fish hook. Remus howled his pained outrage and kicked Sirius in the shin in retaliation.

“Hot? Hot? Try gorgeous. Try the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life. She can’t be real. This has to be a catfish,” James said loudly.

Now interested, Remus slapped Sirius’s hand out of his mouth so that he could look as well. “Oh yeah, very pretty.”

Very pretty? James was beginning to think he wasn’t the only one of their number that needed glasses because Remus and Sirius were clearly going blind. The girl in the pictures was the very definition of beauty, the kind of face that when photographed could be submitted to any magazine and they’d think she was shot by Mario Testino or someone equally talented.

The first thing of note was her hair, deep-red and cascading down her shoulders in every picture – except for the one where she’d pulled it back and given a great view of the long stretch of her neck, an almost equally appealing feature. Her features were nearly elfin, small nose and a rosebud for a mouth, a sprinkling of freckles, and cheekbones that looked like they were drawn on. The only big component of her face was her eyes, wide and green and inquisitive in every shot. Either she was perfectly proportioned or she was tall too, the one shot that showed off her body making it look as if her legs stretched on for six feet like some sort of gorgeous giantess.

And as if life wasn’t already cruelly unfair, she seemed super cool too. There was the photo of her finishing a marathon – makeup free and jubilant at her success. The one where she was vaping, a puff of smoke shielding the better part of her face. In one she stood next to a series of statues at a museum, posed in the same rigid manner so that she nearly blended in with the grey stone. Hiking and giving speeches, and playing the guitar, her interests seemed never-ending. In others, she was less active, just lying around with her cat or reading a book in the sun.

The only word that could rise to his mind was stunning.

So even though this entire profile had been meant as a lark, a way of laughing at a group of people unlike himself that he had never bothered to understand, James started to type.

“Next class we’ll be covering Piaget, so do the reading beforehand and feel free to stop by office hours on Monday if you’d like to talk to me or Professor McKirkland. You can expect your reviewed proposals returned next class. Have a great afternoon,” Lily Evans – TA, Aries, and Masters student in the clinical Psychology department – announced to the auditorium of students.

She always enjoyed the days where she got to lecture because, as she often said, it never hurt to brush up on the basics. After a Freshman year paper on the neuroscience of memory, Lily was all too familiar with how easily the brain discarded facts, even those ones she’d studied for hours on end. Today, she’d been less than happy to take on the additional burden because she was neck-deep in her year-end project for her Social Behaviors class. Hell, who was she kidding? She was drowning.

The issue was a matter of scope. Her original intent had been to observe the way heterosexual men utilized dating websites. Specifically, she wanted to classify their initial approaches and determine whether the four personality metrics could be correlated to how they chose to approach women.  Several problems immediately presented themselves: How was she going to survey these men to determine their personality types at the end? Was a ‘hey’ the same as a ‘hey, how are you?’ in her classification system? And how did she control for the different dating websites?

That last question was her greatest regret. Everything would be going so much more smoothly if she’d just limited her research to Tinder and been done with it. Unfortunately, her eyes had been bigger than her stomach and she’d signed up for a whole host of dating sties: Tinder, OKCupid, Christian Mingle, etc. It was lunacy because they all catered to different demographics, which meant she’d had to create a half-dozen different scales to measure the results. Sleep had been foregone in the effort.

Finally, finally it was almost over. Give her another three days, and she could put the final polish on her research. Hello A+ and goodbye thirsty men of the internet.

With class over, Lily made her way to the café next to the Psych building. She’d made a table there her home over the past three weeks because the restaurant had a download speed of 4.0 mbs waffle fries that she’d want as her last meal on death row. Who’d pick a half-rate coffee shop when there was starchy goodness just down the block?

Lily sat at her usual table and ordered her usual drink from her usual waitress. The stress of the end of the semester always turned her into a creature of habit. She was just debating whether she’d rather a veggie wrap or her beloved waffle fries, when her phone vibrated with a new message. Idly, Lily scanned the reminder from Marlene to bring ice to the party she was hosting on Saturday. The party Lily wasn’t even sure she could make.

Whenever deadlines came around, Lily always dropped off the face of the planet, which was how she’d managed to accumulate nearly six hundred notifications on her phone. Lily almost choked when she saw the number. They were nearly all messages off those dating sites.

Lily clicked into Tinder where the barrage was the worst. Her screen was filled with a page-worth of boring ‘heyyy’ and ‘what’s up, cutie’ messages. Her research had confirmed what everyone knew, that there was no approach more prolific than that of the bland introduction. A little ways down she was assaulted by her first unsolicited dick pic. It was from one of the guys she’d chatted with for a bit, and Lily would have sworn he had seemed normal at the time. Right below was a guy calling her names for not messaging him back.

Pushing the phone out of reach, Lily shuddered. Dating was meant to be fun, not this cesspool of negativity. The real research ought to be on what these jerks hoped to accomplish when they pulled this stuff. Lily imagined girls never fell for it. Or rather, she hoped they didn’t.

A wonderful thought had her reaching for her phone again; the collection stage was over! She no longer needed to belong to any of these sites. Talk about a fast way to handle notifications, she’d just delete all of them.

Tinder was the first to go. Then OKCupid. Goodbye Match.Com and Sayonara EHarmony.

Lily was having so much fun with her social media destruction that a waitress started sending nervous looks toward her table, disturbed by the unabridged glee on Lily’s face as she jabbed at her phone screen. Under normal circumstances, Lily might have cared, but her body was coursing with satisfaction and caffeine. In a time where Lily’s life took on a haze of glowing computer screens, paper cuts, and two-for-one five hour energy shots, she would take her pleasures where she found them.

Going to her FarmersOnly account was an afterthought because she’d ultimately had to cut the site from her research. The default profile Lily had constructed to use across all the platforms simply didn’t fit with the FarmersOnly user base, which meant she couldn’t properly observe how men used the site. Half of them had hit her up with a message along the lines of: ‘You don’t look like any country girl I’ve ever seen.’

Really the only thing she’d learned from her membership was that her decided “city-girl” status did nothing to deter the men. Guys were persistent wherever you went apparently.

Since she’d stopped using the site three months ago, she was surprised to see a new notification from that morning at 2:47 AM. A time that left a poor first impression if there ever was one. (Maybe someday she’d write an online dating advice blog to help these flailing guys.)

The message read: I saw you work at Sonic + I’ve been dying to find one around here. Save a man’s life. I need a coconut cream pie milkshake STAT.

Lily stared, bewildered, at the message for a minute longer. Here she was, ninety percent through a paper on online dating tactics, and this one was entirely new. She felt compelled to answer before she deleted her profile altogether. After all, she didn’t want him dying on her conscience.

Lily: Sorry. I work summers at 1 out of state & go to school at the University here.

There, now that was settled. Except before she had finished ordering (the waffle fries had won out), this guy – James Potter – had written back.

James: NOOOO! And I thought you’d be the girl to save me. But ur just a tease.

James: Wait! Not that kind of tease. A Sonic tease.

James: I don’t want you thinking I mean the other kind.

James: Though honestly that’d be better. I mean who dangles a milkshake in front of a man like that.

James: Rude.

Her paper was waiting for her and she really ought to open her laptop and get to work. Only Lily had no idea how to answer this James, and his bizarre messages warranted some kind of response. He was, well, kind of funny.

Lily clicked into his profile to do some digging, which, if her goal was to quickly move onto her paper, was a mistake because Sonic boy was hot! Hot in that kind of nerdy, unaffected way. In his profile picture he was a big smile of white teeth and impressively rumpled hair. There was an asymmetry to his face, almost like everything was angled just a degree to the side, yet it didn’t diminish from his attractiveness at all. Plain white T-shirt. Eyes that crinkled when he smiled. She couldn’t find a single point to critique.

A quick scroll through the other photos – all six of them – proved the good photo wasn’t a goof. They showed him sweat-soaked and in-shape playing soccer, wrestling with a giant dog, visiting a brewery, and drinking wine with his mates, all of whom were decked out in tuxedos. Lily had to give him a gold star for photo selection. He’d achieved just the balance Lily would have recommended if she was doling out advice.

Moved solely by her shallow admiration of James’ face, Lily typed out a quick response.

Lily: Have you considered travelling to the 1 a county over?

James: You mean drive my car 35 mins to reach the greatest shake on this earth?

James: Don’t be ridiculous.

Lily: Was that your subtle way of telling me you own a car?

James: Impressed ;)

Finding herself laughing at his blatant self-promotion, Lily clicked back into his profile. And here’s where he lost her. He lived in the same city and had graduated from her university, which was good, but his hobbies included mudding, bull-riding, and trout. As if trout was even a hobby! Looking through his photos, it had been so easy to forget that she was on FarmersOnly.Com and she was decidedly not a farmer.

Lily almost closed the app without responding, but the guilt kicked in before she could. What kind of shallow person let a few hobbies scare her off from a guy who seemed cute and charming? It would be the height of snobbery to reject James because of a few cultural differences. And she had no business looking down her nose at anyone considering the part of the city where she grew up. To be fair, she ought to let James chase her away with their incompatibility instead.

Lily: Not really. A car in this city? Not a good investment.

James: Oh I don’t drive it around here.

James: I like to take it out on the weekends. Speed down the highway with the top down and the music on blast.

Lily: Well aren’t you just an Eagles song.

James: What can I say? I like to Take It Easy.

James: Your profile said you like Oscar bait movies.

James: You mean like good cinematography or Meryl Streep in literally anything?

Lily: I mean sweeping biopics about suffering and triumph.

James: Eww. Bad taste L

Lily: Don’t try to neg me.

James: I would never. You’re gorgeous & you know it

James: You just also have bad movie taste.

Lily: Fine. Favorite movie?

James: Fight Club.

Lily: You have to be joking.

James: Dead Sirius.

James: That was a pun.

James: Which I now realize you can’t get because you’ve never met Sirius.

James: My best friend, Sirius.

Lily: Weird name.

James: Tell me about it. His parents name on a theme. All constellations.

James: I mean who does that?

Lily: My parents named me & my sister after flowers.

James: …So apparently your parents do that…

James: All I can say is OUR children won’t be named on a theme.

James: I’m thinking Trudy and Blaze.

James: Thoughts?

Lily: I’m speechless.

James: Kewl. I want you to WRITE your answer not speak it.

They continued in much the same manner for another hour and a half until Lily realized the sun was setting and she hadn’t so much as glanced at her research. James Potter appeared to be many things – contrary and confident and contradictory to name a few – but he was decidedly a distraction as well.

Despondently, Lily decided it was time to bid James a goodbye because she’d rather see the back of him than her destroy her average. Surprisingly, James accepted that she had work to do without complaint. Lily had half-expected him to start rattling on about the possibility of him dying without her company or something equally extreme. In the short time she’d known him, she’d picked up that he was prone to that exact type of exaggeration.

Just before she logged off, however, he did ask whether he could have her number so that they could keep texting later. Lily deliberated for another minute before typing out her cell number. After all, what could it hurt?

“He takes aim. He shoots. He scores!” Sirius practically roared, upending a bowl of popcorn as he threw his hands into the air. His controller tumbled off the couch in all the excitement. “Prongs, did you see how I just outmaneuvered you there? …Prongs?”

“What?” James asked absently, not bothering to look up from his phone.

He almost fell off the couch like the controller when Sirius reached forward and yanked his cell right out of his hands. James blinked a few times to adjust. After hours of staring at a phone screen, his eyes were no longer accustomed to making out shapes in his dimly lit apartment.

“What the hell?” James demanded, making a move to snatch his phone back, which Sirius deftly evaded.

“It’s not fun kicking your ass in Pro Evolution when you don’t even bother! I invited you over to play, not to stare at your phone,” Sirius complained.

“You sound like, really old,” James said, amused even as he plotted how to get his phone back. “Like ‘those darn millennials always on their phones’ old.”

Sirius made a highly offended noise in return and switched off the TV, interrupting a montage in which Sirius’s team was rewarded for their goal. “First off, rude. Second off, you could have stayed in your own apartment if you didn’t want to play. What are you even doing?”

“Just texting,” James said ambiguously.

Purposefully ambiguously because James had found through years of experience that Sirius was a menace to a man’s love life. Not only was he the kind of handsome that could have any girl questioning her choices, but Sirius was also the kind of jackass that could send a girl running with a few well-placed stories. James would let Lily in on his secrets one day, but that would only be after he was confident she was invested. He would need to trap his dream girl just like his ancestors before him.

“This isn’t that farmer girl is it?” Sirius asked. When James didn’t answer, Sirius’s eyebrows shot up practically past his hair line. “It is! A farmer! Really, James?”

“She’s not a farmer. She was born in a city and she’s at the university,” James corrected quickly. “I think she just must like the farmer type, you know? That’s why she was on the website.”

Sirius gave him a long, assessing look. “You do know that you don’t exactly fit that mold, right?”

“Yes.”

James was unfortunately aware of his failings in just that area. Lily had joined FarmersOnly.Com to find a good, old country boy, and James hardly qualified despite his profile’s many false claims. So far, the disparity between the James of reality and the James that had first attracted Lily hadn’t been an issue. Their conversation flowed smoothly, better than any experience with a woman that James could remember with both of them alternating between flirtation and serious conversation effortlessly. So much of that fact was likely due to Lily being perfect: clever, beautiful, accomplished with a variety of interests and experiences to keep him on his toes. The only trouble was that he didn’t meet her desired mold at all.

“Just give me my phone back, dude,” James pleaded.

“I don’t know. Maybe I want to see what’s so special about little Miss Cowbell,” Sirius said.

“Please don’t play around right now. She’s going to think I’m ignoring her if I don’t text back,” James said.

Since they’d started talking three days earlier, James had been quick to respond to every one of her messages. The longest gap between her writing and him replying stood at four minutes. She had texted him about dying for a caramel latte but being too lazy to leave her apartment just as he got out of the shower. He’d nearly pulled his hair out when he realized he was keeping her waiting. Because when it came to someone as perfect as Lily, James didn’t want to take any chances.

Knowing that Sirius didn’t respect little things like privacy and might actually start reading through his conversation with Lily – Sirius always figured out James’ passcode no matter how many times he changed it – James figured it was best to just answer. “She’s just asked if she can psychoanalyze me. She’s got a Bachelors in psychology and is getting her Masters right now.”

“I can psychoanalyze you,” Sirius snorted. “Low-degree narcissism and a weird aversion to cramped spaces that can only be you remembering back to your time in utero.”

“Aren’t you funny,” James said drolly.

“Yes, I am,” Sirius said, but then, “Seriously though, dude. Put the phone down on hang out with me. That or go home. I could still be in bed playing Tetris but I put on clothes to hang out with you.”

Reluctantly, James surrendered his phone to Sirius. The rest of the afternoon was spent in the typical fashion – eating too many Doritos and arguing over who had played better when they’d both won an even number of matches at FIFA 2014. Bit by bit, James forget that there was a beautiful girl on the other side of the city, going about her own life like something out of a fairytale. One filled with pen stains and haunting deadlines, but a fairytale all the same.

“So you gonna meet her?” Sirius asked.

James struggled to follow the question as he was currently on the phone with the pizza place down the street and he was trying to do the math as to how many pizzas to order. Two would be plenty for the two of them, but there was the very real possibility that Peter and Remus would come over later, and that would be two pizzas too few.

“What?” James asked stupidly, before quickly telling the guy on the other end of the phone that they’d take three pizzas.

“The girl you’re texting. The farmer,” Sirius said, “Are you planning to meet her?”

James stared at Sirius as if he was questioning whether his friend had suffered a braincell destroying accident. Sarcastically, he said, “No. I don’t want to meet the hot girl I’ve been texting non-stop for days. Distance makes the heart fonder and all. I want her to stay far away forever.”

“Okay, okay. Just asking,” Sirius said placatingly. “I’m happy for you two. Honestly.”

It was nearly two A.M. and six Yuenglings into the night when James Ubered back to his own apartment. He’d have slept over at Sirius’s, but the cushions of the couch had been worn down to the point that sleeping there felt like lying on the floor, and as James’ buzz had grown, so too had his desire for a night’s sleep surrounded by fluffy pillows. He favored as many as seven on an average night. Only as James was walking out the door did Sirius think to return his phone, which James had altogether forgotten about after Peter had arrived with a deck of cards.

He skipped over the texts from his parents – forever anxious about how he was holding up in the city alone, as if all his friends didn’t live a few blocks away – and the snaps from girls he’d known at one point or another. With the ease of muscle memory, he moved to check for more messages from Lily, and he nearly dropped his phone in horror at what he found there. The last thing that had been written before Sirius had stolen his phone was Lily’s request to psychoanalyze him. In the absence of a reply, Lily had assumed the worst.

Lily: James????

Lily: I was just joking. You know that.

Lily: Right?

Lily: Shit. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t trying to annoy you or anything.

Lily: Okay…well good night.

James swore he was going to gut Sirius when he saw him next. What had he been thinking letting Sirius talk him into abandoning his phone for the night? James knew all too well that most of Sirius’s ideas about relationships were toxic, and, worse, that he was all talk, never applying them to his own romantic endeavors. If Sirius had been talking to a girl, he never would have surrendered his phone in the name of friendship.

Quickly, James typed out his response.

James: SORRY

James: Definitely didn’t mean to drop you like that. I was just caught up with friends and lost track of time.

James: Sorry if I freaked you out.

Lily didn’t immediately write back, so James figured she’d fallen asleep for the night. He was forced to content himself with the idea that she wouldn’t see his apology until she woke up the next day. The lights of the city blinked as his driver took him the rest of the way home, a glint of color that would blaze brightly and then fade away into darkness a second later as they rounded a corner. These lights acted as a replacement for the stars that were muted by the many competing colors of the city.

Maybe that was why Lily was spending her time looking for men on FarmersOnly. To a degree, James had to admit that he could see the appeal. Out in the country, where the sky stretched for miles into the distance, James imagined a person could breath. A person could lay out in a field, staring up at the night sky with no fear that he might be mugged. More importantly, a person could be truly alone.

The prospect made him sigh longingly.

His phone dinged.

Lily: whewww, no worries. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything.

Lily: Glad everything’s okay :)

Maybe he ought to have respected that it was late and Lily was likely tired, but James was in an uncharacteristically sentimental mood, and he wanted to talk to her. It seemed ridiculous, but he’d missed her in the few hours they hadn’t talked. They’d known each other for a few days and already she was a fixture in his life.

James: I missed you today.

It took her a few minutes to write back, but when she did, James grin was exaggerated enough to make his cheeks ache.

Lily: Me too.

James: Tell me something abt when you were growing up.

Lily: Like what?

James: anything just a story

Lily: ummm growing up i lived on a really busy street & we were pretty far from any parks or anywhere we could play because we were on the wrong side of downtown.

Lily: so my sister and I really wanted to play tennis but we couldn’t safely.

Lily: like one time I literally almost got hit by an SUV so my mom forbade us from ever taking our rackets outside for any reason.

Lily: so we developed this version of tennis where we played in the house. Like actually lobbing balls over the kitchen table and up and down the staircase.

Lily: It was WILD. We destroyed half the house by the time my parents realized what was happening. Broken glass everywhere. The dog traumatized from running back and forth so much. But it was so much FUN.

Lily: it’s still like my best memory with my sister.

James: I guess I can see why you find the country lifestyle so appealing.

James: Seems like the right way to raise kids.

Lily: Trudy and Blaze would certainly like a little open space.

James: Yea they would

James: Do you think you want to meet sometime soon. Face to face?

Lily: No.

James: No?????!!!!!????

Lily: No.

Lily: I’m pretty sure you’re like a 60-year-old man and I want the illusion to last a little longer.

James practically collapsed in relief.

James: What if I promise I’m not 60?

Lily: Are you 59?

James: I promise I’m not a day over 58.

At this point he’d arrived back at his apartment and he had to focus on finding the key to his building. When he looked back at his phone, Lily had answered.

Lily: my friend’s having a party this weekend. Do you want to meet me there?

James: it’s a date.

And right there in the middle of the sidewalk, with the lights blinking down on him and pedestrians sending him dirty looks for taking up so much space, James thrust a triumphant fist into the air. It was a date.

As was typical, the party was overcrowded, the combined tempo of the occupants’ thundering pulses almost overpowering the heavy bass of the Tropical House music that Marlene had come to favor. A step in any direction was guaranteed to encroach on at least one guest’s personal space, so stubbed toes and muttered ‘excuse mes’ became the theme song of the night. The problem was that Marlene was far too popular for her own good, a former debutante with a practiced smile who knew when to ask the right, probing question. Lily would have sworn that every familiar face on campus was crammed into the studio apartment that night.

It had long ago crossed into the realm of the embarrassing how often Lily glanced at her phone, which Marlene was quick to remind her whenever Lily failed in her stealth attempts, hiding the phone beneath her leg and glancing down for a message from James. She couldn’t help that he was late, nor that the fact of his lateness had unleashed a hurricane in her stomach. Still, a man didn’t text non-stop for a week, just to stand you up on the first date.

Seated by the TV, with Marlene practically sprawled across her lap, Lily had the perfect position, able to socialize as she pleased with the court that naturally surrounded Marlene wherever she went and able to keep an eye on the door, her visibility only blocked when the basketball team – all of whom were too tall for their own good – crowded into her line of vision. Whenever that happened, Lily’s foot would start to tap in double-time, outpacing the beat of the music currently playing. Lily wanted to believe that her nerves were subtle, but the amused curl of Marlene’s smile belied her hopes.

Somehow, despite all the precautions she’d put in place, Lily missed when James first strolled into the party. Just about no one else did because, well…he stood out. Lily was delicately scooping the remains of vodka-tinted jello out of her shot glass when James appeared at her shoulder like something straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie, one of the ones about rodeos, a pseudo-Western hero with none of the gruff of Clint Eastwood. Lily nearly choked, as the jello slid, slimy and sweet, down her throat.

To his plaid button-down and worn blue jeans, Lily couldn’t complain, but she had some major objections to the enormous cowboy hat that perched jauntily on his head, sliding slightly to the left like it didn’t quite fit. His belt buckle was enormous, easily the size of her clenched fist and bronze. In a room full of university sweatshirts and non-descript tees, James stood out like a sore thumb; a thumb that had been beaten with a hammer and then become infected with gangrene.

“Sorry I’m late,” James said. He shouted to be heard over the music only the song switched over mid-sentence, so half his apology was just yelled in her face.

“No worries,” Lily said, pushing Marlene’s gaping form to the side so that she could stand up and greet James properly. “I didn’t see you text. Did you find the place okay?”

James didn’t answer for a moment, too busy staring at her to remember his manners. He shook his head like he was coming to himself and said, “Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I found the place fine. I just…wow, I can’t believe you’re real.”

“I could say the same to you,” Lily said, and then prayed that had somehow sounded less cheesy to his ears than hers.

Lily wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands: present one for a shake, move in for a peck on the cheek. Maybe James was feeling the same anxiety because he lowered the tip of his hat – thumb resting on the braided leather – and said, “M’lady, do you like my hat?”

The creepings of embarrassment were already making themselves obvious in the blush that appeared across her cheeks. She ought to lie, of course. It was the socially acceptable course of action. Unfortunately, one of the main lessons she’d taken from her studies was that the truth was imperative. She could never expect people to truly know her, let alone develop a healthy relationship when it was built on dishonesty. Even the little white lies that most people excused as a normal part of social interaction were inexcusable.

So, horrified with herself even as she spoke, Lily admitted, “Actually I kind of hate it.”

Taking off the hat, James looked between her and the infernal thing, obviously perplexed. Evidently he’d thought that sort of thing would appeal. Then, in a move so smooth she would have thought it was practiced, James tossed the hat like a Frisbee in to the crowd of dancing bodies, lost forevermore.

“There. No more hat,” James declared pleasantly.

His hair stuck flat to his head from where the hat had plastered it down, looking nothing like the pictures. Before her eyes though his hair appeared to engage in a battle against gravity, slowly unsticking from his skull and rising in disordered clumps. She wanted to pet it down back into place, but something told her that any effort on her part wouldn’t be enough.

Smiling brilliantly, Lily stuck her hand out for a shake. “Since we’re meeting formally for the first time, it’s nice to meet you, James.”

Instead of shaking her hand, James picked it up gently, running his thumb – so much longer than her own – along the vein at the center of her hand. She half expected him to pull a goofy move like raising it to his lips for a kiss, but instead he pulled her entire body forward for a hug. Lily had to remind herself that it was just a hug because the gesture felt so intimate that she half-expected everyone at the party to stare at them with disgust, and this was the same party where a few freshman had been grinding in one long train for the last hour. It only lasted for a few seconds, but the hug was warm and exciting. Just like James.

When they broke apart, Lily said, “Want to find somewhere to talk? I’m excited to see if you’re half as witty as you like to think you are.” James cocked an eyebrow at her, so Lily elaborated, “You’ve had an unfair advantage when we’re texting. It gives you a couple of seconds to think. For all I know, you’re googling your best lines before sending them.”

“I respond pretty fast,” James pointed out. “Either I’m every bit as clever as I’ve led you to believe, or I’m the speedy type.”

“And you know that’s one of the main things that I look for in a man,” Lily said.

Rapid fire, James said, “Well then it may interest you to know that I can type 70 words per minute. Thank you high school computer class. These fingers are agile.”

He wiggled his fingers in her face, giving Lily the perfect opportunity to grab him by the hand and pull him toward the balcony. It was the only place in Marlene’s apartment that wasn’t brimming with people because she’d hung a curtain to cover the sliding door that separated the apartment proper from the narrow balcony outside. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with Marlene’s place wouldn’t even realize there was a door behind the gauzy drapery, but Lily knew to just peel it away for a quick escape.

Why the architects had thought adding balconies to the units here was a good idea was a mystery to Lily as the view from Marlene’s apartment was bleak, blocked off entirely by the towering brownstone across the street. All that anyone could really make out from there was the comings and goings of the passersby on the street. Since the view wasn’t impressive, Marlene hadn’t bothered to decorate much, setting down two low-sitting, white-plastic chairs and a cardboard box to act as a table. It was in these uncomfortable chairs that Lily and James settled, repositioning them so that they half-faced each other.

“These remind me of being in kindergarten,” James said, tapping the chair in question idly.

“That’s funny. They remind me of my Grandma. She had chairs like this in her garden,” Lily said.

Lily suddenly was unsure of what to say, which was funny because they’d never run short of conversation when they were texting. Their banter had flowed naturally like how she’d only ever witnessed on television. Maybe that was the problem though. All of the normal getting-to-know-you talk had already occurred between them.

Fortunately for her, James wasn’t the type who ever wanted for something to say, and he quickly launched into it. “So you said you’ve been busy with the end of the semester. Did you finish up all your work? You should know that I expect good grades from such a bright young lady.”

“I don’t know. My work’s been better,” Lily admitted.

She’d finished her paper and expected an A considering all of the work she’d poured into it, but some of her other projects were lacking. Plus, she’d barely studied for any of her test. She’d pass, but she’d be lucky to score above a B minus.

“I’m gravely disappointed,” James said, in a tone that suggested he was trying to mimic a stern father.

Lily snorted. “It’s your fault in the first place.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, yours! You kept distracting me when I should have been working. I’m lucky I got anything finished at all what with you blathering away all the time,” Lily said with more vehemence than she actually felt.

“I feel…oddly proud,” James smiled. “If you really need me to stop texting for a week so that you can get some work done, just say the word.”

Lily’s lips remained pressed together. It was mortifying really, how she couldn’t force herself to ask he stay away for even a minute, let alone a week. That was when she made a decision.

Looking him directly in the eyes, Lily said, “Maybe you can take me mudding sometime.”

If she wanted the rise of feelings – swelling and hot and shiver-inducing – that came with James, that meant acceptance of who he was. Mudding and all.

“Mudding?” James asked a bit nervously. He must have picked up on the fact that Lily, for all her appreciation of casual attire, wasn’t exactly the mudding type.

“Yeah, it was listed as one of your hobbies on your profile,” Lily said. “I don’t have a clue what to wear, of course. You’ll have to help me out a bit. Would sneakers be the right call? Or do I need some special kind of boot? Mudding sounds, well…muddy.”

James winced, scratched at his knees, looked away. All signs of a man with a secret. It set Lily a bit on edge to watch him so obviously nervous.

“I mean…if you don’t want to take me that’s fine,” Lily said.

“No! Of course, I want to take you. I mean, I want to take you everywhere. Try everything,” James said, such a shockingly unexpected declaration that she was left blinking and confused.

“Then, mudding,” Lily said firmly because they both had something to prove.

James remained silent, allowing the moment to stretch and turn awkward. Her intuition that James was keeping something from her grew unignorable. As much as Lily loathed dishonesty, she didn’t want to pry. Everything they had felt so tenuous, as if the smallest mistake might dash her image of James forever, send him back into the realm of her daydreams.

“I have to tell you something,” James said, like he had no idea that those words brought with them a million allusions to heartbreak and betrayal.

“What?” Lily said, feeling just that heartbreak and betrayal.

“I’veneverbeenmudding.”

“What?”

“I’ve never been mudding.”

Under normal circumstances, Lily would have responded to such a statement with a shrug, but James was sweating like he’d just let her in on one of the darkest secrets of his life. Faced with his inexplicable solemnity, Lily felt like she ought to treat the situation with the same level of gravity.

“I don’t understand…that’s fine,” Lily tried uncertainly.

Head in his hands and elbows propped on his knees, James sighed. “I don’t think you understand, Lily. I’ve never been mudding. Never been mudding, or to the rodeo, or to Nashville. None of it.”

“You’re still young. Plenty of time to cross things off your bucket list in the future,” Lily said.

The only sense she could make of the situation was that James was poorly handling his death anxieties, coming face-to-face with the reality that he still hadn’t done so much of what he had planned in life. Perfectly natural if a little poorly timed. She patted his shoulder in sympathy.

“No, you don’t get it,” James looked up at her with wild-eyes. “My whole profile was a lie. I got you to meet me under false pretenses. I’m not a country guy at all! I’m born and raised in the city, and I love it. The closest I have to any country-credibility is I like that one Rascal Flatts song.”

As Lily listened on incredulously, James filled her in on the entire, ridiculous tale. He was genuinely terrified that she was going to dump him on sight for being too urban. What struck Lily as the most ludicrous of all was that two city-bred people with their northern values, had managed to find each other on FarmersOnly.Com.

She began to laugh.

“Lily?” James asked nervously.

She kept on laughing.

Only after several minutes did she find the voice to explain why she’d been on the website in the first place. Overcome at the realization that he hadn’t ruined his chances for her, James leaned forward seemingly at an impulse and kissed her. Almost the second his lips touched hers, a car alarm set off down the street. Startled, James tried to pull back to see the source of the commotion, but Lily yanked him forward by his collar, not letting him separate from her by so much as an inch.

James kissed her back then. The sharp point of his nose caressed along her cheek. His hands combed a soft path through her hair. All of the sounds of the party behind them and the traffic below faded to nothing. Their chemistry was undeniable, heat sparking between their lips and and casting fire down her spine like a series of sparklers.

“Well, what have we here?”

Hesitant to end what had been gearing up to be an earth-shattering kiss, Lily turned to see Marlene standing by the open door with a bottle of Merlot held high. Lily gave Marlene her best intimidating look, a silent plea for her to go back inside so that things could continue but Marlene’s eyes were slightly unfocused like she was already four or five glasses in and she missed the signal.

“You two look so adorable together,” Marlene sighed pleasantly before sliding down to sit on the balcony with them, back propped against the door.

“Thanks, Marlene,” Lily said tightly.

James gave Lily’s hand a light squeeze and smiled. It was a promise that there would be plenty of time for kisses later. Lily felt something relax inside of her. Plenty of time.

The city really was beautiful at night, even their limited view from the balcony. Here, Lily had a view into so many different lives, all of these people bustling about in different directions with loved ones and decisions to make that she could never guess at. Hubs of humanity. That was what cities ought to be called.

“So where’d you two meet anyway?” Marlene asked.

Funny as their story was, Lily liked that it lived as a secret between them. Someday she’d tell the truth to anyone who asked, but for today…today it was theirs.

Like they’d rehearsed it, James and Lily said in unison, “Tinder.”

Their subsequent grins matched just as perfectly.

Odd, because he knew his victory was all but secure. He might at times be arrogant and presumptive, but he was brilliant, a master strategist. She could give him that much, even now. Was that why he’d come? To gloat?

“Why did you invite me here, Lily? Do you really want to negotiate war prisoners?” He pointed to the map. “Or even any of this?”

She refilled her glass, but he reached across the table, took it from her, and finished it one gulp.

When he saw her surprised expression, he shrugged.

“No use abstaining, now I know it’s not poisoned.”

Lily set the bottle back down. “I wasn’t going to poison you, James.”

“I’m not sure anymore—this has all gone a lot further than I ever anticipated.”

“I’m not the only one who’s gotten carried away.”

“I know. And In that vein, I’ll make you a promise: your baby will be returned.”

“Unharmed?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“After we resolve all of this. Which is the reason I’m here.”

“Resolve doesn’t sound very optimistic for someone who appears poised on the cusp of victory.”

He leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together like a wizened old man. “It appears to be a victory—you called me here, after all—but you and I both know that we aren’t being fully honest. You didn’t call your allies off, like you’ve said, Lily.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. They’ve abandoned you.”

“Yours have abandoned you as well,” Lily bit back.

“Of course you’d know that.” He reached a hand behind his head to scratch the back of his neck, a gesture she found so familiar that she couldn’t help the small smile. She quickly let it drop. “Spies?” he asked.

She nodded. And then she offered: “They think we’re being ridiculous with this whole thing…yours and mine.”

Because this had escalated out of their control, hadn’t it?

He took it.

“Agreed. And I’m tired of arguing with you, Highness. Do you think it’s even possible that we—come to an accord—without any more”—he glanced at the map—“collateral damage?”

He said Highness with far less sarcasm than before, which gave her something like hope that this could, indeed, be sorted out. Properly. Without her having to surrender. Because she would surrender, if it came down to it, but she’d rather not be the one to cave first.

“I think we owe it to ourselves—I mean to them,” she said, pointing to the pawns, “to try.”

“Yes.”

“What if we fail and bugger this up?”

He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “More than we already have?”

Lily gave up her stiff posture and crossed her legs. Very unladylike, yes, but she too flustered to keep any sense of decorum. “Do you think the damage is irreversible?”

A dangerous question, but he didn’t hesitate in answering.

“I came, didn’t I? And you summoned me here for this clandestine, middle-of-the-night meeting.”

“I sent you a missive requesting an audience, James. It’s our protocol. I didn’t summon you—”

“You wouldn’t have summoned me if there wasn’t hope for peace.”

“Peace?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Resolution. Accord. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Resolution.” Lily mulled over the word. Resolution didn’t sound like ‘gloating in victory,’ did it? “So you aren’t expecting me to just, surrender? Give in?”

“Surrender? No. But I am expecting us to sort this out like adults.”

“But we aren’t adults, James.”

“Yes we are.”

“Technically, maybe, but barely. And that’s part of what got us into this mess.”

“If by that, you mean your misinterpretations and overreactions, then yes—”

Lily scrubbed a weary hand across her face. “Can we not start going around and around again? Please? Because hurtling accusations of blame isn’t a very good start, if you want to talk through this with any sense of rationality.”

That got his attention.

“We are adults, at least adult enough to sit here and talk about this.” A pause, then, “Aren’t we? “ He waited for Lily to nod. “And you’re right, I’m not interested in what got us here. Well, I am. I just know this fighting has been going on for too damned long.”

She smiled. Again. Damn this boy. “The…current campaign…has only been going on for two days.”

“But aren’t you exhausted with it?”

This time, Lily didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and for the first time all evening, looked her square in the eye.

“Then I want to talk about the possible unification of our, erm, kingdoms.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do. And I’m asking you, Lily, what do you want?”

That, Lily wasn’t prepared for. She also wasn’t prepared for the pounding of footsteps down the hall, or the flip of the switch, bathing the living room in the offensively bright, yellow light of the overhead. Both she and James winced and shielded their eyes.

“Do you know what I want, guys?”

Lily removed her hand and found a harassed, disgruntled Remus Lupin glaring at her. And James.

“D’you think you could turn that off, Remus?” Lily asked. Nicely, because Remus’s go-with-the-flow, relaxed attitude did not extend to the hours of one and five in the morning.

“No.”

“Okay, then.”

Remus looked at James. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want, Prongs?”

After a brief glance at Lily, he turned in his sofa to meet Remus’s gaze full on. “Sure, mate. What do you want?”

Remus crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “World fucking peace. Barring that, sleep, because my econ final is in six bloody hours. Barring that, I want you two to sort your shit out so I can listen to literally anything on this earth but you two being…weird.”

“We aren’t being weird,” James and Lily chorused.

“You’re attempting to resolve your real-world issues—which you’ve dragged every last one of your friends into with your lunatic dramatics—through a board game. Weird is being pretty goddamn generous.”

Lily glanced at the Risk board—the board game in question—and both she and James opened their mouths to protest. Remus held up a hand to silence them.

“No! No interrupting, either of you.”

Lily sat back in her armchair and prepared for the onslaught.

“This, here, is precisely the ‘dramatics’ I’m talking about. You’re here, in the dark, at two in the morning, pretending you’re royalty about to destroy each other’s kingdoms.”

“Unite them,” Lily said. “Hopefully.”

“Whatever. I’ve listened to your tales of woe. Both of you, nearly crying, for two nights in a row, and this, here,”—he flapped his arms at them with a look of utmost revulsion on his face—“is worse than that. It’s unacceptable, especially at two in the bloody morning. And I know we—your mates, all of us—said we weren’t going to intervene, let you work it out on your own, but that’s not possible. Do you want to know why it’s not possible?”

He looked at James, eyebrows raised, face expectant. James sighed. “Why, mate?”

“Because you two are infants! And I really, truly mean that. You aren’t adults in any sense of the word. You can’t be trusted with pizza, let alone armies. You can’t even talk about your feelings without using your favorite board game as a, I have to say it, really shitty metaphor.”

He took in a deep breath, and Lily thought for a short moment that he might have finished early. She was wrong.

“Which, while I’m at it, is also complete bullshit. That’s not how you play Risk, Lily, whatever your dad said. It takes two hours, three if you’re playing with a militant knobhead like Prongs. But you two have kept this game going for months—“

“But—”

“You’re wearing crowns, Evans. Actual crowns.” Remus turned his attention fully on Lily. “And you, Lily, listen. James has been my best mate since we were eleven. We came to uni together! I’ve lived with him for going on ten years. And he—sorry, mate—says and does stupid shit. All the time. No filter. He speaks out of his arse 90% of the time. 95% with you, because you make him so bloody nervous. And I’m here to remind you that you find it endearing when it isn’t driving you absolutely mad.

“And James. Prongs. Evans overreacts. To everything. All the damn time. She lit sparklers in the living room on Christmas. She bought cake to celebrate ‘no cavities’ at your last dental visit, for fuck’s sake. She tried to hide a duck in the bathtub on Bonfire night. And, surprise to no one, she ’ sakefuckast dental visit.s because ooons forctively, but he turned his attention fully on Lily.

iends into over the last fortyoverreacted to the fur ball, yeah? You find it bloody adorable, nauseatingly adorable, when it’s not driving you absolutely bonkers.

“He got you a kitten, Lily. And yes, he assumed a lot in getting that cat. That you’d want the shared responsibility for the next decade, and that you’d move in together, et-fucking-cetera. Darling, you use my razor to shave your legs most mornings, so you don’t get to harp on about ‘presumptions.’ You already live here. You live her more than I do.

“Honestly, how you two hurdled from fur ball to ‘does she even really love me’ and ‘I guess this is over’ is beyond me, but here we all are, at two in the bloody fucking morning.

“You love each other, yeah?” They both nodded. “Of course you want to move in together! James, you shouldn’t have just assumed it. Lily, you know, you know, he didn’t mean ‘sure thing’ like you were a sure thing. And it’s a cat. An adorable cat that is clawing the shit out of my sheets, so come get him when you’re done sorting your shit out.

“Sidebar: I want you to move in together, If only so you can work out your weird Risk fetish and couch shagging—which everyone knows about, by the way—in private. You two have no boundaries, and you’re bloody perfect for each other. If you two can’t sort it out from here, I give up. Now I’m going to bed. If I hear you again, I will douse your favorite shoes in milk.”

“Now-please-snog-and-go-to-bloody-sleep-for-fuck’s-sake. Good night, your highnesses.”

With a bow, Remus flicked the light off and stomped back to his bedroom, closing the door none-too-gently behind him.

Lily and James turned to each other in stunned silence.

“Well, what’s up his arse?” James asked. “We haven’t been that dramatic.”

“He has an exam in five hours and forty-seven minutes.”

“True.”

“I’ve never seen him that worked up though.”

“He’s like solar power—saves it all up for when he really needs it.”

“He did save us the trouble of working through all of that on our own. But we aren’t…playing this game wrong.” She pointed to the Risk board, which was unrecognizable as such which new lines and country names drawn in with different colored Sharpies. “We play it better.”

James nodded solemnly, his paper crown slipping a little sideways in the process. “Rules are for losers.”

“Exactly. Our countries are loads better. And you got me this tiara for New Year’s. I love it.”

“And I love my birthday crown.”

Lily nodded. She’d gotten it for him for his birthday. His birthday, which was a blast. Suddenly, surrendering first, apologizing first—or rather, not—didn’t matter as much as it did twenty minutes ago. “He’s right about other bits, though.”

“Yeah?”

“About me. I do…overreact. And misinterpret.”

“Can you come over here?” James asked from his vantage point on the sofa. Her armchair was right next to his part of the sofa, but the separation did feel unnecessary, now that the illusion of the middle-of-the-night parlay was broken.

“Time to give up our crowns?” she asked.

“It’s kind of a shit metaphor.”

“Is not.”

“Evans.”

“Fine.”

Lily tossed her crown onto the coffee table and moved to the sofa. After a momentary crisis—sit far or close? facing him or the fireplace?—she settled for middle cushion, but not touching. He immediately turned sideways to face her, sitting cross-legged, so his knees were touching her thigh and knee. But okay.

She’d barely sat down when he jumped right in. “I shouldn’t have gotten you the cat, okay? Or I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d want a cat. Together. For the next ten years. And I didn’t mean ‘sure thing’ like that. And if you don’t know that, I’m telling you now.”

She laid her head back on the couch and turned it to face him; he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“But, I need you to know, Evans, that this does feel like a sure thing to me. You and me, it’s the surest thing I know. Or it did. And not feeling that sucks. A lot. And that’s not what I said, I know, but it’s what I meant. And it’s all I meant. And I don’t take that back.”

She squeezed his hand. “I—don’t want you to take it back, James.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve been bloody miserable. Angry and confused and hurt, but all wrapped up in misery. That’s why I sent you the missive.”

“You tucked a post-it note into the toilet roll, Lil. Remus brought it to me.”

“Yeah, but I knew Sirius and Peter are already at the lake, and Remus wouldn’t have wiped his arse with it. I knew it’d get to you.”

James smiled, genuinely smiled, and it was so far removed from the coldness with which he had greeted her that it gave her the courage to get the next bit out. “I panicked a little, okay? And yeah, got a bit dramatic.”

His grin widened. “The goldfish was over the top, even for you.”

“I know.”

“But the fireworks were a nice bit of work. If I wasn’t the recipient.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Okay, so a lot dramatic. But of course I want to move in. Officially. And I want the furball. And you. I want you for—like, longer than a cat. Like Seven cats.”

“A cat can live anywhere from 12-15 years, Evans, so that’s until we’re over a hundred.”

“How d’you even know that?”

“I’ve been reading up. Responsible pet ownership.”

“Ah.”

“I was afraid I was going to be a single parent.”

“Well, you aren’t. You’d be a cute single dad though. I’d pick you up.”

“Well, thank-you.”

“And I’m planning on living forever, didn’t you know?”

“Well, glad I can be there to watch it.”

“So my living here is a permanent thing then, yeah?”

“If you’re amenable to that, my lady.”

“You are a giant fucking nerd, James Potter.”

With that, he pulled her onto his lap, and into a kiss. And she forgot about the fighting, and the crowns, and anything but the taste and the feeling of him. This, here, in his arms. This was home. How could she ever, ever have doubted that she wanted anything else? It’d only been two days, but a really, really long two days. Lily shifted on his lap, and in the process her toe tipped the board game—the board game they’d made their friends leave on the coffee table, untouched, for three months—over, sending the pieces scattering on the rug.

The kiss broke.

“Fuck,” James said. “I was looking forward to finally trouncing you.”

“You were going to win anyway. I’ve known it for weeks.”

“Were you going to surrender peacefully?”

“Never.”

“Good.”

“You still drive me mad with your assumptions, Potter.”

“You still overreact.”

“We’re still too young.”

“I definitely love you.”

“I definitely love you, too.”

“So,” James said, pulling Lily close to him again. “What do we do now?”

“Fuck.”

“Yes, please, but we’d better go to my room, or—”

“No. Fuck…Remus and I have econ together. I have my final in six hours, too.”

“Closer to five.”

“Shit.”

“Okay, so no fucking. Just bed. But first, I’m going to need to hear you say it.”

“I love y—” But he pointed to the game board, scattered on the floor; she groaned. “Really?”

“If you want your baby back alive, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He pinched her side.

“Proof of life, please, before I humiliate myself forever.”

James pulled Lily’s beloved childhood stuffed elephant, Ellie, from between the couch cushions. She’d been held hostage for the last three weeks, and—

Lily lunged for it, but James held it high above their heads, out of Lily’s reach.

“She was here the whole time?”

“Yes. And you can have her just as soon as you say it.”

“Fine. You are the master of Risk.”

He waved Ellie in the air.

“You, Lord James, King of Pottsworth, are the, er, victor. Of Risk. Master player. Really wonderful. Cute arse, et-fucking-cetera.”

“You say it like that, all over the top, and I think you don’t mean it.”

“You want to start a new game?”

“Maybe after you fail your exam tomorrow, yeah?”