“Thanks,” you say again, quieter. 

She smiles. “What kept you two?” 

“Transmutation paper,” Remus answers for you, collapsing into the chair next to Sirius’. Your lips tug fondly as you watch how Sirius curls into his side, Remus’ arm coming around the other boy’s shoulders almost unthinkingly. “Our professor’s got his pants in a twist about structure. Wants us to hit every point of the rubric in order.” 

“Tyrant,” Sirius decides immediately. 

“Same one who gave us a paper due during reading week, too.” 

“Knew I hated him. We should spell his shoes into tar.” 

“Do you want me to read it over for you?” Lily offers, while Remus and Sirius sidebar about how a shoe-to-tar spell might be achieved. “I can compare with the rubric if you’d like a fresh set of eyes.” 

“You don’t have to,” you try, but Lily waves you off, beckoning for it. 

“While you do that,” says James, standing, “I’ll go get drinks. Moony, what’ll you have?” 

“Whiskey sour, please,” Remus replies. He’s taking out his own essay, newly paranoid that he’s missed a point. 

“Yuck. And you want a cider, angel?”

You assume for a moment that James must mean Lily, but she already has a drink. He’s looking at you. You didn’t realize he knew your usual order. 

“Yes, please,” you say. 

James goes to the bar, while Lily leans closer to praise you for an apt transition between your thesis and first argument. Her shoulder bumps into yours, a warmth you can feel through the layers separating you. It’s innocuous. But you wonder if Lily would be so comfortable around you if she knew of your giant, shameful crush on both her and her boyfriend. 

It’s hardly your first forbidden crush (you carried a torch for Remus for months after he and Sirius got together) but it’s definitely new for you to have a crush on two people who are in a relationship together. Because fate likes to laugh at you, James and Lily decided they’d like to be your closest friends right around the time you started having feelings for them both. You feel a bit accomplished for having gone undetected for so long. Lily is smart; you thought she’d clock your puppy eyes within a week of getting to know you better, but so far nothing has seemed to deter the couple from wanting to spend more time with you. 

“This is good,” Lily says, still skimming the end of your paper. “I can’t imagine what your professor could fault you for. You’ve laid everything out perfectly.” 

“Ooh, high praise,” James teases, setting down your cider in front of you. A short glass has appeared in front of Remus. James lays his arm across the back of your chair casually. “Give her a break from school, love.” 

“Wait.” Remus sends Lily a sheepish look. “Will you read mine?” 

James laughs. “I think both of my girls deserve a break.” 

“Hear hear!” Sirius lifts his glass, while the words my girls are still echoing around in your head like a song that sticks. “Speaking of, Prongs, do you want to do something off-campus on Friday?” 

“Not this Friday,” James replies unhesitatingly. “We have a date.” 

You turn to him, a bit wounded. “This Friday?” 

James’ eyebrows raise. “Yeah. Did you forget?”

“I just…I thought we were going to the cinema on Friday.” 

“That’s what I meant.” He squeezes your shoulder, giving you a bemused smile. “So like I was telling Pads, we have plans Friday.” 

“Oh, sorry.” You feel silly. “The word ‘date’ threw me.” 

Lily looks up then, her brows bunched to James’ raised. 

“...Why would that be?” James asks. 

“Because…” you say slowly, hoping one of them will finish for you. When they don’t, you flounder. “Well, is it a date?” 

“Of course it is,” James replies. 

You reel. 

“Oh, lovely.” Lily sounds a strange mix of fond and empathetic. “Did you not know we were asking you on a date? What do you think the other night at our apartment was?” 

“Studying,” you say tightly. 

James nods. “A study date.” 

“Right, but—when you called it that, I didn’t take it for—you know, anything. Remus and I have study dates all the time.” 

“You what?” Sirius rounds on his boyfriend, who is doing his best to appear as though he isn’t listening. 

“What did you think was happening between us?” Lily asks you. 

You look at her helplessly. “Friendship?” With the added flavor of one-sided, hopeless pining. 

“Godric.” James runs a hand through his hair. When he breathes out, his lips twitch; it’s like he’s incurable. “Well, would you want to date? Since apparently we haven’t started yet.” 

“How many dates do you think we’ve had?” 

“Four, love.” 

“Five,” Lily corrects him. “You’re forgetting the pond.” 

“Right. Five.” 

You gawp at them, replaying every hour you’ve spent alone together in your head. It did feel strange that they kept inviting you along to things. But you only thought you were their very special third wheel. 

“I’d like to be on a date,” you say. 

Lily shook her head at him but smiled nonetheless as she completed her bow.

“Right, so, back to my earlier sentiments; what in the buggering fuck is going on here?” Sirius spat, not nearly as careful as Remus had been as he dumped various craft supplies onto the ground to free up a chair for himself. 

“Yeah, who are you trying to woo now, Prongs?” Remus taunted, earning him a snort and a head shake from James who never removed his lovesick gaze from Lily. 

“This is all her.”

“Evans!?” Sirius beseeched. “Who are you trying to woo!?” 

“We’re both” Lily corrected as she offered James a half-hearted glare “pursuing Y/N.” 

“Y/N? Didn’t an owl deliver her a box of chocolates just yesterday?” Remus asked.

“Those were from us.” Lily replied, her focus steady on the craft in front of her.

“And a bouquet of flowers the day before that?”

“Yup.” 

“And the howler that simply played ABBA’s Take a Chance on Me?”

“What is your point, Sirius?” Lily harrumphed as she stepped back to admire her creation.

A mischievous look took over Sirius’ face that Lily didn’t notice on account of her attention being solely dedicated on her current task of wooing you, but had Remus bracing for impact.

“Say, Prongsie, what was the first box of chocolates you sent to Evans in your attempts to pursue her?”

“The toffee flavoured truffles that I saw her eyeing at Honeydukes!” He responded quickly, and Remus watched as Lily’s brows furrowed. 

“Right, and how many bouquets of lilies did you send her?” 

“Forty-two.” 

“Uh huh.” Sirius drawled. “And, remind me, what song did you send Lily via howler?”

“Lay All Your Love on Me!”

“And tell me, Evans, where’d you get all this?” He asked as he pulled a string of lacy ribbon between his fingers only for Lily to rip it away from him.

“From James’ trunk. Stop touching it!” 

“Oh gods, you’re just as bad as he was!” Sirius cackled, and Lily turned to look at James who was simply smiling at her.

“I…I am not as bad as he was. I- …he was such a toerag!” 

Sirius snorted. “Then that makes you a toerag-ess.” 

Lily looked like she was reaching for her wand to hex Sirius for his shite, but James grabbed her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss before she could manage to. “Don’t worry, Lils. You came around eventually.”

“Six years later.” Remus chuckled under his breath, though he immediately regretted it when Lily’s horrified face whipped towards him.

“Six years later!? It took me six years!?” She nearly shrilled. “We don’t have six years! We have months!”

“No one can deny you, my beautiful Lily flower.” James cooed as he rubbed his thumb over Lily’s knuckles.

It looked like his attempt at placation had almost worked before Lily noticed you walking by.

“Wait! Y/N!” She shouted, nearly tripping over various ribbons and boxes of craft supplies as she hurried after you. “Did you get the chocolates we sent you yesterday!?” 

“You guys are so hopeless.” Sirius muttered, earning him a small chuckle from James, though he never got a chance to respond.

“Potter!” You hissed as Lily forcibly led you towards their table with her arm around your shoulder. “This goes against every feminist urge in my body, but would you control your woman!?”

James simply rested his chin on his hand as he gazed at the two of you. “I wouldn’t dream of it, angel.” 

Realisation seemed to dawn on you as a group of fifth years walked past whispering “oh Merlin. It’s happening again.” 

“You’re kidding me.” You deadpanned as Lily smiled and pressed her nose into your cheek.

“There’s nothing funny about our feelings for you.” James responded earnestly.

“Well,” Sirius cut in, “it’s kind of funny.” He countered, nodding his head towards the table that looked as though cupid himself had thrown up on it. 

“Oh, like you haven’t sent Lupin a howler or two of your own, Black.” You sneered, causing Remus to choke on the sip of water he’d been taking and Sirius to gawk at you in surprise. 

“Where do you find these birds, James?!”

James simply let out a dreamy sigh as he beamed at you. “Heaven.” 

And by Lily’s effervescent smile pointed directly at the side of your face, Remus could tell she more than agreed with that sentiment.

“Bloody hell,” James mutters, frozen in the doorway.

“Alright, James?” Lily asks as she wipes the lemonade from your chin with her thumb as you lick your puckered lips.

“I, uh, yes it-” James clears his throat.

“It’s a bit sour, love,” you murmur, and Lily nods in acknowledgment, moving to add a tad more of the honey simple syrup she made earlier.

“It’s… hot. Out. Hot out,” James manages to say, his eyes darting hopelessly between the faces of his girls, then to the way their dresses dance in the breeze, lifting slightly to expose more skin.

“Come join us in the shade, then, babe,” Lily says, only looking up when she hears your giggle, and she too notices James’ flustered state.

You reach your hand to him, beckoning him to come over. “Jamie,” you call in a sing-song voice.

James flushes red, placing the platter with your lunch down as he rounds the table.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before his touch wanders up your arm to your shoulder, settling on the back of your neck as he wraps his other arm around Lily’s waist.

“How do you expect me to survive the summer with you both living in sundresses!?” James says as if he’s in genuine peril, leaning his cheek against Lily’s shoulder as he gazes down at you.

Lily and your shoulders shake in unison as you giggle at James’ theatrics.

“Poor baby,” you mock with a faux pout, brushing some of his curls out of his face.

James’ hand drifts down your back, pressing you closer as he retaliates with a playful nibble at your neck.

You squeal as you try to fend him off. Lily turns in his grip, flicking his shoulder in your defense.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re going to change after lunch,” she tells him.

James’ head turns at once. “Change?” he asks as if he’s personally offended by the thought.

“Mhm. We’re gonna put on bikinis and lay out some towels on the grass to tan,” she tells him with a wicked little smile and a sultry tone.

James’ eyes light up, a smirk playing at his lips as he opens his mouth to say something salacious, no doubt.

Before he can, Lily already has a spoonful of lemonade at his lips.

“Try this for me, love?”

James hums as the flavor hits his taste buds. “Delicious, of course. A tad sweet though, d’you think?”

But James is your mirror and your enemy. Every time you step forward, he steps too. Every compliment you offer Lily, he counters with one sharper, louder, more dazzling. It’s infuriating. You can’t stand the smug tilt of his grin when he thinks he’s outshone you, nor the way he mutters under his breath when you’ve managed to steal Lily’s laugh for yourself.

The rivalry has become its own language. Quidditch practice turns into a battlefield — you dive for the Snitch not just to win, but to prove you’re faster, braver, more worthy. In Potions, you angle your cauldron so Lily sees your perfect brew, only for James to “accidentally” spill his ingredients in a way that makes her laugh. Every interaction is a duel, every glance a challenge.

And beneath it all, there’s a strange, unspoken recognition: you and James are cut from the same cloth. Both reckless, both desperate, both hopelessly tangled in Lily’s orbit. You despise him for it, but you also understand him better than anyone else. That’s what makes the rivalry burn so hot — because in him, you see the reflection of your own obsession.

It’s exhausting, exhilarating, and impossible to stop. You’re locked in this endless dance, two rivals circling the same girl, each convinced you’ll be the one she finally chooses.

You’re leaning into Lily, finally savoring the quiet victory of her warmth against your side, when the inevitable happens.

James Potter storms into the moment like he owns it. His voice is loud, his laugh exaggerated, his ego filling the space until Lily’s attention flickers toward him. He drops into the chair across from you with all the subtlety of a Bludger, running a hand through his hair in that practiced, arrogant way.

“Evans,” he says, grinning like he’s just scored the winning goal, “you should’ve seen me out there — best Chaser Hogwarts has ever had. Snatched the quaffel right out from under Mulciber’s nose.” He leans forward, eyes bright, waiting for her admiration.

You feel the shift immediately. Lily’s gaze slides from you to him, her lips twitching with amusement at his theatrics. It’s infuriating — the way he can bulldoze into any moment, the way he demands attention like it’s his birthright.

You tighten your grip on the armrest, biting back the urge to snap. Because this is what James does: he interrupts, he overshadows, he makes everything about him. And worse, he knows exactly what he’s doing. His smirk lingers on you, a silent challenge, daring you to fight back, daring you to prove you can hold Lily’s gaze against his relentless charm.

The rivalry reignites in an instant. What was soft and private becomes contested ground again. Lily, caught between your quiet closeness and James’s loud bravado, is the battlefield. And you know you’re not about to surrender.

Slughorn’s classroom smells faintly of singed nettles and over-boiled potion, and the tension between you and James is thick enough to choke on. Both of you had lunged for Lily the moment partners were announced, voices overlapping, stubbornness clashing. Slughorn, too indulgent to intervene, let it happen — and so Lily ended up with both of you hovering at her side, a recipe for disaster.

You’re measuring ingredients with precision, determined to prove your worth, when James leans in too close, his elbow knocking against your arm. The vial tips, liquid spilling into the cauldron with a hiss. The potion erupts in a plume of smoke, splattering across the desk. Lily groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Honestly,” she mutters, “you two are impossible.”

Slughorn’s voice cuts through the chaos: “Detention. Both of you. Tonight.”

You freeze, fury burning in your chest. James, of course, grins like he’s won something. “Well,” he says, brushing soot off his sleeve, “at least we’ll have quality time together. Can’t wait.” His smirk is aimed at you, not Lily, and it’s infuriating.

You glare back, jaw tight. Detention with James Potter — the very definition of hell. Lily shakes her head, already turning back to her notes, leaving you and James to stew in your shared punishment.

The library feels like it belongs to just the two of you. The scratch of quills and the faint rustle of pages fade into the background as Lily leans closer, her hair brushing your arm while she sketches out the shape of an ancient rune.

“You see how this one curves?” she says, her fingertip tracing the symbol. “It changes the meaning entirely if you angle it wrong.”

You nod, though your eyes are more on her than the parchment. “So… precision matters. Good thing I’ve got you to keep me from embarrassing myself.”

Her lips twitch into a smile. “You’d be hopeless without me.”

You grin, leaning just a little closer. “Hopeless, maybe. But at least I’m entertaining.”

She laughs, soft and genuine, and the sound makes your chest tighten. You tease her about her neat handwriting, she nudges your elbow when you deliberately mispronounce a rune, and the air between you hums with something unspoken. It’s not grand gestures or rivalry — it’s the quiet thrill of her choosing to stay here, choosing to share this moment with you.

Still, her brow furrows when she sets her quill down. “I can’t believe you’ve got detention with Potter tonight,” she murmurs. “The two of you together… it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You roll your eyes, but keep your tone light. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive him. Besides, I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

Her cheeks flush faintly, and though she shakes her head, her smile lingers. The runes blur on the parchment, because all you can think about is the way her laughter feels like victory — quiet, private, and yours.

Slughorn’s voice carries across the dungeon, warm but firm: “Since you two seem to think Potions is a stage for your rivalry, you can spend tonight cleaning up the mess you made.”

The classroom is empty now, save for you, James, and rows of cauldrons crusted with residue. The air smells of burnt nettles and spilled potion. Slughorn has left you with a bucket, rags, and a pointed look that promised he’ll be checking in later.

You grip the rag, glaring at the nearest cauldron. “Brilliant. Just brilliant. Stuck here with you.”

James smirks, already rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t sound too excited. I know detention with me is the highlight of your week.” He runs a hand through his hair, as if even scrubbing cauldrons requires dramatics.

You scrub harder, determined not to rise to the bait. But of course, he keeps talking. “You know, Evans will probably pity you after this. Maybe she’ll even thank me for putting up with you.”

You snap your head up, rag dripping. “You’re delusional. If anything, she’ll pity me for being stuck with you.”

The banter bounces back and forth, sharp as hexes. Every cauldron becomes a battlefield, every word another jab. Yet beneath the irritation, there’s a strange energy — the rivalry alive and sparking even in punishment.

Slughorn’s footsteps echo faintly from his office, reminding you both to keep working. You sigh, leaning over the cauldron, muttering, “If you spent half as much effort cleaning as you do talking, we’d be done by now.”

James grins, tossing his rag into the bucket. “But then you’d miss out on my company. Admit it — detention’s not so bad when it’s me.”

The dungeon is heavy with silence, the only sound the scrape of rags against cauldrons. You’re bent over your work, determined to ignore James Potter entirely, when the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. There’s a presence behind you — close, too close.

You turn sharply, and he’s right there. James stands barely a breath away, his grin cocky, his eyes glinting with mischief. The suddenness of it jolts you, and instinctively you stumble back, your shoulder hitting the cold stone wall behind you.

“Merlin, Potter!” you snap, heart racing. “Do you have to sneak up like that?”

He smirks, leaning one hand against the wall as if he planned it all along. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to see if you were actually working or just sulking.”

You glare, pressing yourself against the wall, trying to regain composure. “Unlike you, I don’t need an audience to scrub a cauldron.”

James tilts his head, still too close, still radiating that insufferable confidence. “Maybe. But it’s more fun when you react like that.”

“Relax. Just wanted to ask you something.” His grin sharpens. “Why Lily? You know I’ve been obsessed with her since third year. Everyone knows it. So why are you suddenly acting like she’s yours to chase?”

Your jaw tightens, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Just because I didn’t make it a big deal back then doesn’t mean I didn’t like her. Not everything has to be a performance, Potter.”

His smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “Performance? You think that’s what this is? I’ve been fighting for her attention for years. You can’t just swoop in and—”

You cut him off, voice sharp. “And what? Pretend you’re the only one who sees her worth? You don’t own her, James. You don’t get to decide who’s allowed to care about her.”

The air between you crackles, the rivalry boiling over into something rawer. His grin returns, but it’s strained now, defensive. “Guess detention’s not so boring after all,” he mutters, though his eyes don’t leave yours.

The rag slips from your hand, potion residue streaking across the cauldron, but you don’t care. You’re too busy glaring at James Potter, who’s leaning in close, his grin sharp, his eyes daring you to flinch.

“You think you’re the only one who’s ever cared about her?” you snap, voice low but cutting. “All those pranks you pulled — the ones that hurt her, embarrassed her, made her roll her eyes at you? You call that devotion? You’ve been obsessed since third year, sure, but obsession isn’t the same as respect.”

His smirk falters, jaw tightening. You press on, knowing exactly where to strike. “Every time you humiliated her in front of the class, every time you made her feel like a prize to be won — I saw it. I saw the way she hated it. And I hated you for it. Just because I didn’t shout my feelings from the rooftops doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I’ve liked her for years, Potter. I just didn’t make it a circus.”

His anger rises like a storm, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowing. He steps closer, the space between you shrinking until your back hits the cold stone wall. You tilt your chin up, defiant, refusing to back down even as his presence looms over you.

“Shut up,” he growls, voice rough.

Your lips curl into a smirk, your heart pounding but your defiance unshaken. “Make me.”

His gaze drops, lingering on your mouth. The smirk fades, replaced by something heavier, something dangerous. He leans closer, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him, the rivalry twisting into something steamy, something you never thought you’d let happen. Your pulse hammers, your back pressed against the cold stone wall, and for a heartbeat it feels inevitable — James Potter is about to kiss you.

And then—

“Detention’s over,” Slughorn’s voice booms from the doorway, shattering the moment. You both jolt apart, the spell broken, the air still charged with what almost happened. James straightens quickly, running a hand through his hair, trying to mask the flush on his face. You grab your stuff and leave, but your heart is still racing, your lips tingling with the kiss that never came.

You’re lying awake in your dorm, the stone walls pressing in, the silence too loud. Sleep won’t come — not after detention, not after the way James leaned in, not after the way your heart betrayed you.

You press your palms against your eyes, trying to make sense of it. Lily has always been the center of your world: her laugh, her brilliance, the way she makes you feel seen. You’ve fought for her attention, battled James for her smile, convinced yourself she’s the only one who matters.

But tonight, when James was inches away, when his anger twisted into something hotter, you felt it. The pull. The spark. The possibility of something you shouldn’t want. And now you’re caught in the impossible question: do you like Lily, or do you like James? Or — terrifyingly — do you like them both?

It feels wrong, contradictory, like betrayal. How could you want Lily’s warmth and James’s fire at the same time? How could you crave the softness of her laugh and the sharpness of his defiance? Yet your heart won’t let you choose. It beats for both, tangled in rivalry and affection, in longing and confusion.

You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of it pressing down. You’re trapped in a triangle of your own making — Lily, the girl you’ve always loved, and James, the rival you can’t seem to stop wanting.

The next morning feels strangely quiet. You sit through breakfast, through classes, through the hum of Gryffindor chatter, but you don’t reach for Lily with your usual teasing remarks. You don’t angle your chair closer, don’t toss her sly compliments, don’t try to make her laugh just to prove you can. Instead, you keep your head down, quill scratching across parchment, letting her space breathe.

James, too, is left untouched. No sharp words, no muttered insults, no baiting him into another duel of egos. You pass him in the corridor, and though his eyes flick toward you, waiting for the spark, you don’t ignite it. You let him walk by, his smirk fading into confusion.

It’s not surrender — it’s exhaustion. After last night, after the almost-kiss that burned hotter than any argument, you can’t bring yourself to play the same games. You’re tangled in feelings you don’t understand, torn between Lily’s warmth and James’s fire, and the weight of it presses down on you.

So you stay quiet. You study beside Lily without flirting, you share a classroom with James without fighting. And though the silence feels unnatural, it’s the only way you can keep from unraveling completely.

The roar of the crowd shakes the stands as Gryffindor faces Hufflepuff — a team known for their speed and quiet precision. The air is sharp with anticipation, scarlet and gold banners whipping in the wind.

You mount your broom, the Seeker’s role heavy on your shoulders. Across the pitch, James Potter is already circling like a hawk, his grin wide, his confidence unshaken. He’s Chaser today, and you can feel the rivalry simmering even here, though you’ve sworn not to fight him outside the game.

Madam Hooch’s whistle pierces the air, and the match explodes into motion. Hufflepuff’s Chasers dart like lightning, weaving patterns that force James to push harder, faster. He barrels through their defense, Quaffle tucked under his arm, hair flying as he scores with a flourish that earns a roar from the Gryffindor stands.

You, meanwhile, are scanning the sky, eyes sharp for the glint of gold. The Snitch flickers in and out of sight, teasing you with flashes near the goalposts. Every muscle is taut, every heartbeat pounding with the thrill of the chase.

James swoops past you at one point, shouting over the wind, “Don’t let them outrun you, Seeker!” His grin is infuriating, but it sparks something in you — a determination to prove yourself, not just to Lily, not just to him, but to everyone watching.

The stadium is alive with scarlet and gold, the Gryffindor stands roaring as Remus calls the commentary with his steady, clever voice. You’re high above the pitch, the wind biting at your cheeks, eyes scanning for the Snitch.

Below, James is in his element — darting through Hufflepuff’s tight defense, Quaffle tucked under his arm as he scores with that trademark flourish. The crowd erupts, but your focus is elsewhere. Because when you glance toward the stands, you see Lily. She’s cheering for you, her voice carrying even through the chaos, and pride surges through your chest.

You grip your broom tighter, determination sharpening. Out of the corner of your eye, James streaks past again, another goal under his belt. But then — a flicker. Something golden, darting near the far end of the pitch.

The Snitch.

Your heart leaps as you dive, the wind screaming in your ears. At the same moment, the Hufflepuff Seeker spots it too, their broom cutting through the air like a blade. The two of you race neck-and-neck, every second a battle, every inch of distance fought for. The Snitch glitters just ahead, teasing, taunting, promising victory to whoever reaches it first.

The wind whips past your face as you and Alex Wood — Hufflepuff’s Seeker — dive in perfect sync, both chasing the flicker of gold darting across the pitch. The Snitch glints, teasing, weaving through the chaos of the match.

Above, Remus’s voice carries over the roar of the crowd: “And Potter scores again! Honestly, even if we don’t catch the Snitch, with the way James is racking up points, Gryffindor could still take this!”

You scoff internally, jaw tightening. Of course Remus would praise James. Everyone always does. But you don’t let the irritation distract you. You force yourself to focus, eyes locked on the Snitch, every muscle taut with determination.

Alex is right beside you, his broom cutting through the air like a blade. The two of you are neck-and-neck, the Snitch darting just ahead, golden wings flashing in the sunlight. The crowd gasps as you both dive lower, weaving between Chasers and Beaters, the chase so fast it feels like the world is blurring around you.

James scores again out of the corner of your eye, the stands erupting in cheers, but you don’t look his way.

The Snitch gleams like fire in the sunlight, darting just ahead of you and Alex Wood. Both of you dive, brooms cutting through the air at breakneck speed, the crowd gasping as you weave between Bludgers and Chasers. The wind screams in your ears, your fingers aching from gripping the broom, but you don’t let go — you push harder, faster, every ounce of focus locked on that flicker of gold.

The Snitch darts low, skimming just above the grass. You and Alex tilt into a dangerous dive, the pitch rushing up beneath you. The crowd screams, half in awe, half in terror, as you stretch your hand forward, fingertips brushing air — and then, contact. The wings beat frantically against your palm, but you close your fist tight. Victory.

The whistle blows, the game is over. Gryffindor wins.

But as you hover there, Snitch clutched in your hand, the stadium doesn’t erupt for you. The cheers go up for James, his name echoing across the pitch, his goals celebrated louder than your catch. He’s basking in the glory, hair windswept, grin wide, while you sit with the Snitch burning in your palm, pride tangled with frustration.

You won the match, but James Potter stole the spotlight.

You grip the Snitch tight in your hand, heart pounding with the thrill of victory. The cheers are deafening, the stadium alive with scarlet and gold — but they’re not for you.

You fly down, hope flickering that maybe Lily will notice, maybe she’ll see you, the one who actually ended the match. You land, adrenaline still buzzing, and start toward the stands where she’s cheering.

But then you stop dead.

Lily is already running — not toward you, but toward James. Her hair flies behind her as she leaps into his arms, laughing, radiant. He catches her effortlessly, twirls her around, and before you can even breathe, their lips meet in a kiss. The crowd erupts louder, Remus’s voice booming James’s name, the Gryffindor team piling in celebration.

You stand frozen, the Snitch burning in your palm, invisible in the shadow of their moment. Pride curdles into something sharp, something hollow. You won the match, but James won her.

Something raw ignited deep within you, sharp and unrelenting. Were you jealous? Hell yes, you were. Of course the two people you had once loved—maybe still loved—would end up together.

But the jealousy twisted strangely. Was it James you envied, for winning Lily’s heart? Or Lily, for holding James’s? The ache didn’t choose sides; it burned at both.

You told yourself you should be happy for them. They deserved happiness. They deserved love. People would rejoice to see them together, radiant and whole.

The roar of the crowd still rang in your ears, the taste of victory bitter on your tongue. The snitch sat cold and weighty in your palm, its wings twitching faintly as though mocking you.

You felt their eyes on you before you saw them. Lily moved first, her steps light, her smile warm, the kind of smile that could melt stone. She reached for you, voice soft, “Congratulations. You were brilliant out there.”

And then James. His gaze caught yours, hazel eyes bright with pride, the kind of pride that should have set your chest alight. He looked at you as though you had done something extraordinary, as though he wanted to share in it.

But you didn’t see it. Or rather, you refused to.

The bile rose again, jealousy twisting sharp inside you. Of course it would be them—Lily and James, together, radiant, whole. Of course they would find happiness in each other. And of course you would be left standing here, clutching a snitch that suddenly felt like nothing at all.

You turned on your heel before their words could sink deeper, before their eyes could pierce further. The cheers of the crowd blurred into a dull roar as you walked away, back to the changing rooms, back to silence.

The snitch fluttered once in your hand, then stilled.

You changed quickly, the smell of sweat and grass clinging to your skin, the snitch still cold in your palm. The cheers outside rang louder with every passing second, Gryffindor voices spilling through the walls, celebrating victory, celebrating them.

You slipped away, robes dragging, footsteps heavy, until you reached your dorm. The door shut behind you with a dull thud, sealing you in silence. You sat on the edge of your bed, the snitch resting uselessly in your hand, its wings twitching faintly before falling still.

The cheers from the common room carried through the stone, muffled but relentless. Every laugh, every shout of triumph was a reminder of what you weren’t part of, of the joy that belonged to them and not to you.

You loathed yourself in that moment—loathing the jealousy, the ache, the bitterness that clawed at your chest. You told yourself you wouldn’t care. You told yourself you were happy for them. James and Lily deserved happiness. They deserved love. They deserved the golden story everyone wanted them to have.But the word happy rang hollow. It was a mask, a lie you forced yourself to wear. Because beneath it, the truth was sharper: you couldn’t bear to watch them together.So you made up your mind. You would avoid them. You would keep your distance, keep your silence, keep your storm locked inside. If they wanted happiness, they could have it. You would not stand in their way.And yet, as the cheers swelled louder, you felt the emptiness press harder. Avoidance wasn’t freedom. It was exile. And you knew it.

But the word happy rang hollow. It was a mask, a lie you forced yourself to wear. Because beneath it, the truth was sharper: you couldn’t bear to watch them together.

So you made up your mind. You would avoid them. You would keep your distance, keep your silence, keep your storm locked inside. If they wanted happiness, they could have it. You would not stand in their way.

And yet, as the cheers swelled louder, you felt the emptiness press harder. Avoidance wasn’t freedom. It was exile. And you knew it.

You slip into the dress—dark burgundy faux leather, the halter neckline framing your shoulders with sharp elegance. The bodice clings like armor, corset‑style with lace‑up detailing that snakes down both sides of the front, cinching your waist tight. The skirt flares in layered folds, every movement catching the light with a subtle sheen, gothic yet modern. Silver necklaces rest against your collarbone, one cross pendant glinting faintly, and the black shoulder bag hangs at your side, completing the look with an edge that feels both defiant and deliberate.

The music from the common room thrums through the floorboards as you descend the stairs, the burgundy dress clinging like armor, silver cross glinting against your collarbone. You tell yourself you’re ready — ready to face them, ready to prove you can stand in the same room without breaking.

But the sight that greets you stops you cold.

James’s hands rest firmly on Lily’s waist, her arms looped around his neck. They’re laughing, spinning in time to the music, the crowd around them cheering louder with every turn. And then, as if the world itself conspired against you, he twirls her once more and their lips meet in a kiss.

The cheers swell, Gryffindor voices rising in triumph, not just for the match but for this moment — their golden couple, their perfect story.

Lily’s outfit radiates elegance with a romantic edge. She’s in a deep burgundy cocktail dress, strapless and satin‑like, the bodice fitted with asymmetrical pleating that sculpts her waist. The skirt flares in soft folds, giving her movement a graceful volume. At her side, a cascade of gathered fabric and ribbon‑like ruffles adds drama, catching the light as she spins. It’s striking, sophisticated, and perfectly suited for the glow of celebration.

James, by contrast, is sharp and commanding in a black three‑piece suit. The blazer is tailored with clean lapels, paired with a matching waistcoat accented by a silver chain. His black dress shirt and patterned tie complete the ensemble, sleek and formal, the kind of look that makes him stand out even in a crowded room. Together, they look like the golden pair Gryffindor has been waiting to cheer for — her in rich, romantic burgundy, him in polished black.

You slip away from the dance floor before the storm inside you can break loose. The burgundy dress feels heavier with every step, the silver cross at your collarbone like a reminder of the armor you’ve chosen to wear tonight. You set your bag down on a table, and head straight for the corner where Sirius is holding court with a bottle.

“Beautiful catch!” he exclaims the moment you arrive, clapping you hard on the back. His grin is wide, his voice booming over the music, and for a second the ache in your chest eases. Sirius pours you a shot without waiting for your answer, sliding it across with a wink.

You knock it back, the burn sharp, grounding. Another follows, Sirius keeping pace, his laughter infectious. Soon Peter joins, his cheeks already flushed, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’ve had a crush on Sylvia forever,” he blurts, eyes wide as if confessing a crime. “Ravenclaw girl, you know? Sylvia. She’s brilliant. I swear, since first year—”

Sirius howls with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “Merlin’s beard, Wormtail, you’ve been pining for her longer than James and [Name] have for Lily!”

The words hit like a Bludger. Your smile falters, the burn of firewhisky suddenly bitter on your tongue. Sirius notices immediately — he always does. His grin fades, his sharp eyes following the line of your gaze across the common room.

There they are. James’s hands on Lily’s waist, her arms looped around his neck, the two of them spinning in the glow of Gryffindor’s victory. The cheers swell around them, golden and relentless.

Sirius leans closer, voice dropping low, teasing but edged with curiosity. “Jealous, are we?” You start to shake your head, the denial half‑formed on your lips, but Sirius’s brow arches in that way that says he’s already seen through you. His grin fades into something sharper, more knowing, and you feel the fight drain out of you.

Your eyes betray you anyway. They keep flicking back to James and Lily, tracing the way his hand rests on her waist, the way her laugh spills against his shoulder, the way they move together as if the whole room belongs to them. Every spin, every kiss, every cheer pulls your gaze like a magnet you can’t resist.

Sirius gasps suddenly, loud enough to make Peter jump. He leans in, voice pitched low but matter‑of‑fact, as if he’s announcing the weather. “Bloody hell. You like both of them.”

Remus steps into the room, his voice cutting through the haze of laughter and firewhisky. “What’s going on here?” he asks, eyes narrowing with that quiet, perceptive weight that always makes you feel seen.

Sirius, still grinning, opens his mouth — ready to spill the truth, ready to announce your storm to the world. But before he can, you move.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing him by the waist, pulling him sharply toward you. His balance falters, his grin twisting into surprise. With your other hand, you press firmly against his mouth, silencing him before the words can escape.

The room stills for a heartbeat. Sirius’s eyes widen, then gleam with mischief, muffled laughter vibrating against your palm. Remus raises a brow, suspicion flickering, but you hold your ground, your grip tight, your storm locked behind the gesture.

Sirius’s eyes gleam with mischief as he opens his mouth and — to your horror — licks your hand. You jolt back with a startled gasp, muttering, “Eww!” as you yank your hand away and rub it on your dress trying to wash aww Sirius' saliva. He slips easily out of your grasp, laughing, and saunters over to Remus with that swagger only Sirius Black can pull off.

Throwing an arm around Remus’s shoulders, Sirius smirks and calls out loud enough for you to hear: “Oi, now listen — I know I’m hot, and I love being manhandled as much as the next bloke, but I’m taken, yeah girl?”

Remus chuckles, shaking his head at Sirius’s theatrics, while Sirius shoots you a wink, clearly reveling in your flustered reaction. The tension that had been pressing down on you eases just a little, the mood lightening as Sirius turns your storm into something ridiculous, something you can laugh at — even if only for a moment.

The three of you burst into laughter, Sirius wiping his mouth with exaggerated flair while Remus shakes his head, amused despite himself. The firewhisky burns warm in your chest, the tension that had been coiled inside you loosening as the moment turns ridiculous. For once, you’re laughing — really laughing — and it feels almost like freedom.

But you fail to notice the way eyes linger on you from across the room. James and Lily, still close together, pause in their dance. His hand rests on her waist, her fingers curl at his neck, but their gazes flick toward you, toward Sirius and Remus at your side. There’s something in their look — not quite jealousy, not quite suspicion, but a weight you can’t name.

They watch the three of you with something. Something unspoken, something that makes the air shift. And though you’re caught up in Sirius’s antics and Remus’s quiet chuckles, the truth is, the golden couple isn’t as oblivious as you think.

jillyś pov

James’s hand tightens just slightly at Lily’s waist as his eyes linger on the three of you across the room. Sirius is laughing, Remus is smiling, and you — you’re laughing too, freer than he’s seen you all night.

“Funny, isn’t it?” James mutters, his voice low, almost sharp. “They look like they’re having the time of their lives.”

Lily tilts her head, her gaze following yours, watching the way Sirius leans close, the way Remus chuckles, the way you glow in their company. Her smile falters, replaced by something quieter, heavier. “Strange,” she says softly. “I didn’t think [Name] would… fit so easily with them.”

James’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as Sirius brushes your shoulder in jest. “Too easily,” he mutters, a note of jealousy threading through his voice.

Lily exhales, her fingers curling tighter at his neck. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she teases, though her tone carries its own edge.

James doesn’t answer right away. His gaze stays fixed on you, on the laughter you share with Sirius and Remus, on the way the three of you seem untouchable in that moment. Finally, he murmurs, “Maybe I am.”

Lily’s lips press together, her own eyes lingering longer than she means to. “Maybe I am too.”

You catch sight of them moving toward you — James with that familiar swagger, Lily at his side, her hand brushing his arm. For a heartbeat, your chest tightens, bracing for James to mock you, to throw his victory in your face, to remind you he finally has Lily. You can’t take that right now.

So you slip away, weaving through the crowd until you reach the dance floor. The music swells, and you let your hips sway, the burgundy dress catching the light as you move. It’s reckless, defiant, a way to drown the storm in rhythm.

You glance back over your shoulder, expecting smugness, expecting James’s grin and Lily’s glow. But what you see instead makes you falter. Their faces aren’t triumphant — they look… hurt.

No, you tell yourself, it can’t be that. Probably just because you’ve stolen their space on the floor, claimed the spotlight for a moment. That must be it. You push the thought down, keep moving, keep swaying, keep pretending the music is enough to silence the ache.

The party winds down, the music fading into softer echoes. One by one, the other houses drift away, their laughter trailing off into the corridors. Even most of Gryffindor begins to peel away toward their dorms, leaving only scraps of the celebration behind.

You’re still on the dance floor, the burgundy dress catching the dim light, Sirius and Remus nearby, when Marlene spots you. Her eyes flicker between the juniors lingering at the edges and the three of you. With a quick, decisive tone, she ushers the younger ones off to bed, then excuses herself to her own dorm.

And suddenly, it’s just the three of you.

The common room feels different now — quieter, heavier, the air charged with something unspoken. The cheers are gone, the crowd dispersed, but the tension remains. You stand there, aware of James and Lily across the room, their eyes still following you, their movements slower now, their expressions unreadable. Sirius leans back against the table, smirking, Remus’s gaze steady, thoughtful.

It’s no longer a party. It’s a moment suspended, stripped of noise, leaving only you three — and the storm that’s been circling all night.

James shifts his weight, hands buried deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed but unreadable. Lily crosses to the table, fingers curling around a half‑finished drink, the glass catching the firelight as she lifts it. The silence between you all hums, thick and charged, every movement deliberate.

You reach for your bag, the strap sliding over your shoulder, the decision to leave already forming in your chest. The room feels too small, too heavy, too full of things unsaid.

James’s eyes flicker toward you, narrowing just slightly, as though he’s bracing for words he won’t say. Lily takes a slow sip, her gaze lingering over the rim of her glass, watching you with something softer, something harder to name.

James shifts his weight, hands still buried in his pockets, and finally breaks the silence with a steady voice. “Good game tonight. That catch… it was brilliant.”

You glance up, surprised by the softness in his tone, and reply before you can stop yourself. “Thanks. You played well too, James. Couldn’t have pulled it off without your passes.”

Lily, sipping her drink, lets out a laugh that’s half‑teasing, half‑genuine. “Wow. James and [Name] complimenting each other? Never thought I’d see the day.” Her eyes sparkle, but there’s something else beneath it — something heavier.

The three of you linger in that fragile small talk, words brushing the surface while the silence underneath hums louder. You adjust the strap of your bag, trying to make an excuse. “Well, it’s late. I should probably—”

But before you can finish, Lily’s hand shoots out, catching your wrist. Her grip is firm, pulling you closer, right into the space between her and James. The sudden closeness makes your breath hitch, the firelight painting all three of you in gold and shadow.

James exhales, finally letting the weight in his chest spill into words. His voice is low, steady, but edged with something raw. “Why have you been avoiding us?”

You freeze, the strap of your bag tight against your shoulder, Lily’s hand still firm around your wrist. She’s pulled you closer, right into the space between them, her eyes searching yours with a mix of curiosity and hurt.

“I haven’t—” you start, but James cuts in, shaking his head. “Don’t. You have. Weeks now. You slip away when we walk in, you dodge us in the corridors, you vanish at parties. And tonight… you couldn’t even look at us.”

Lily’s grip tightens just slightly, her voice softer but no less piercing. “We notice, you know. We’re not blind. And it hurts, [Name]. Whatever it is… it hurts.”

The fire crackles, filling the silence that follows. You glance between them — James, jaw tight, eyes burning with something he won’t name; Lily, her gaze softer but heavy, her hand refusing to let you go.

You swallow, the storm inside you pressing against your ribs. “I just… needed space,” you mutter, but the words sound hollow even to you.

James steps closer, his voice low, almost pleading now. “Space from us? Or from what you feel when you’re around us?”

The question hangs in the air, sharp and undeniable. Lily’s eyes widen just slightly, her breath catching, but she doesn’t let go. She pulls you closer still, as if daring you to answer, daring you to stop running.

You shake your head, pulling slightly against her hold, your storm rising. “You’re imagining things. I’m not avoiding you. I just… don’t want to be in the middle of whatever perfect golden couple thing you’ve got going on.”

James steps closer, his voice low, almost dangerous now. “Don’t lie to us. We deserve better than that.”

“I was avoiding… myself. Avoiding what I feel when I see you together.”

James’s jaw slackens, his hands slipping from his pockets as he takes a step closer. “What you feel?” His voice is quieter now, but heavier, as if he already knows the answer.

You swallow hard, the truth spilling out before you can stop it. “I can’t stand it sometimes. Watching you two — perfect, golden, untouchable. And I… I like you both. More than I should. More than I can admit without breaking.”

Lily’s eyes widen, her grip tightening just slightly, but she doesn’t let go. Her voice is soft, trembling with something unspoken. “You like… both of us?”

The words hang in the air, undeniable now. You nod, the storm finally unleashed. “Yes. And it’s tearing me apart. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Because every time I see you together, it feels like I’m drowning in something I can’t have.”

Then James moves. He steps forward, closing the space between you, and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms lock around you, strong and steady, his voice low against your hair. “You do belong. You’ve always belonged. We love you too.”

Before you can even process it, Lily presses closer from behind, her arms wrapping around both of you, her chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “We do,” she whispers, her voice warm and certain. “We love you. You don’t have to run from us anymore.”

The three of you stand there, tangled together in the quiet common room, the storm finally breaking into something softer, something real. The weight of avoidance, jealousy, and silence dissolves into the warmth of their embrace, into the truth you’d been too afraid to speak.

Months later, the memory of that night still lingers — not heavy anymore, but warm, woven into the rhythm of your days. The three of you have settled into something softer, sillier, and undeniably yours.

James still insists on pulling you into tight hugs whenever he sees you, grinning like he’s won the Quidditch Cup all over again. “Oi, don’t think you’re escaping me,” he teases, arms locking around you until Lily rolls her eyes and joins in, wrapping herself around both of you from behind.

Lily’s laughter is brighter now, mischievous and tender all at once. “Honestly, you two are ridiculous,” she says, though she’s the one who sneaks kisses to your cheek when James isn’t looking, only to laugh when he catches her anyway.

The three of you have become a fixture — studying together in the common room, sneaking butterbeer into late nights, teasing each other until the juniors groan and leave. What once felt like avoidance and storm has turned into belonging, into a trio that feels unshakable.

There are silly moments — James dramatically declaring himself your “favorite Gryffindor” only for Lily to shove him off the couch, you laughing until your sides hurt. There are flirty moments — Lily whispering “ours” against your ear while James pretends to pout, only to grin when you pull him closer. And there are soft moments — the three of you tangled together under blankets, the fire crackling low, the world outside fading away.

Lily blinks, wondering if he’s also flushed because of the routine or… other reasons. She finds herself feeling a little better at the thought. That maybe her boyfriend is similarly harboring complicated feelings when it comes to you.

Once again, very unconsciously, she finds her eyes moving to a spot behind James’ shoulder. Noticing you running the routine with Marlene while the entire crew waits for Lily to get her act together. 

There’s an unpleasant churning in her stomach when she notices Marlene’s hand lingering a beat longer in your body, marking what would be James’ part to help you practice your own part of the choreography. When she blinks to answer his question, the unpleasant churn turns into a completely different feeling when she notices the downturned tilt of his lips, his brown eyes watching you with Marlene as well. 

“… we can do another number?”

“Hm?”

Sirius sighs again. “I just asked if you’d want to try another number, to clear your head?”

“No, I’m alright,” Lily shakes her head, a tad too quickly. “Sorry, it’s just… you know, the tour and promo. Bit stressed, s’all.” 

“Well, do you at least want a break? Wouldn’t want you getting hurt over some ogling.” Sirius says, like it’s the most topic between them.

Lily’s eyes flare. “Sirius.”

“What?”

James’ fingers dig softly into the exposed skin of her hip, reassuring for all intent and purposes despite looking like possessiveness to the untrained eyes. 

“I think I’ll take that break offer.” 

A few murmurs echo around the room as the crew disperses to make the most of their break. Lily can’t help it, she finds your silhouette through the mirror again, watching as you crouch down to take your own water bottle. Every move you do is collected and composed, sweaty skin glistening with the harsh fluorescent lights of the training room. 

When you meet her gaze, her heart absurdly skips a beat when you reward her with one of your lovely reassuring smiles. Same one you’d send her when she’d miss her mark mid rehearsal or accidentally drop her microphone when you’d get a tad too close to her. Always reassuring her, even if your own routine is disrupted by her distracted mistakes. 

Your attention is quickly pulled away from Lily–to her utter and confusing displeasure–by none other than Marlene, who sits next to you with a smile that rivals the sun. You animatedly talk to her like you’re not causing a sudden disruption in both Lily and James’ lives. 

A quiet sound interrupts her own spiraling when Marlene puts her hand over your arm, looking friendly for all intents and purposes, but Lily and James have already juggled with enough jealousy to really tell. James has moved to stand by her side again, following her gaze as you seemingly welcome your coworker’s flirty advances. 

“I thought she was seeing Dorcas?” James asks quietly, leaning closer so only Lily can hear. “Reckon they’re also looking for a third?”

Also. 

Lily frowns, forcing herself to look away from you and Marlene to meet her boyfriend’s eyes. They’re warm and knowing, glistening with the hesitation of his words, the weight of his question. 

She swallows, studying his face for any indication that he could be joking–but James’ face, handsome and mischievous as always, only remains serious as he studies her in return. Both gauging each other’s reactions.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she whispers, letting James pull her by the waist to the benches. His intentions for privacy are clear by the way no one from her team steps in to talk to her. “I thought… I thought you were just jealous.”

James laughs. “I was,” his hands find her face, thumb sweeping the baby hairs sticking to her forehead by sweat. “It took me a while to realize I didn’t know who I was jealous of, though.”

Lily hums conspiratorially. “The routine is definitely not helping, isn’t it?”

“It’s killing me,” she can’t help it, she laughs. And James’ face breaks into a grin at the sound. “Now why are you acting all mighty and superior? Don’t think I didn’t notice your little sad eyes a while ago.”

That shuts her up real quick. 

“James.”

“Yeah?”

“Be serious for a second,” his lips quirk slightly, mischief passing over his eyes with anticipation for his overused joke. Lily is quick to react, braceleting his wrist. “Please tell me I’m not the only one… feeling like this.”

“Oh, lovie.” he sighs, all the playfulness leaves his face. His thumb finds her lower lip, releasing it from her teeth’s vicious chewing. “No, you’re not. These past weeks have been torture for me as well.”

A beat.

The past weeks have been nothing but rehearsals between you and Lily, practicing her rather suggestive number with one of her main dancers. As in you.

Her lips part to their own accord, a wave of shock and relief washing over her features as she ponders on his words, and her own whispered confession. 

“Enough!” 

They both whip their heads, finding the source of the voice immediately. Your giggles are magnetic enough and music to their ears. 

But their shared fondness for your unadulterated laughter and lovely smile is short, quickly transforming into something less joyful at the way Marlene is poking at your ribs, her own smile barely contained as she watches you squirm to put distance between her bony fingers and your skin.

Jealousy washes over them as quickly as it left.

“My fault?!” you ask, shocked, but your smile is blinding as you push yourself up from the floor. “You hit me first!” 

They scramble as you walk to them, or–well, the refreshments table that is coincidentally next to their bench. James’ hands move from Lily’s cheeks to intertwine their fingers together, squeezing in anticipation as you walk up to them. 

When you notice them looking at you, they have half a second to school their expressions. 

“I’m really sorry,” you say, hurriedly taking a fistful of napkins. “I’ll make her clean it, don’t worry.”

Lily frowns. “What for?” 

“Clean what?” James asks simultaneously.

You pause your hurried fetch for napkins to look at them, arching an eyebrow in apparent confusion, but when your eyes catch their intertwined fingers, Lily swears she sees something passing over your face. You blink before she can pinpoint it.

“The spilled water…” your voice tilts in a question, thumb pointing behind your shoulder. Though your eyes remain on them. Lily wishes you weren’t so keen on eye contact. “Are you feeling better?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Me?” 

James looks away, failing to bite back a laugh at Lily’s embarrassingly obvious bafflement at your full attention on them.

Your smile turns bemused at this. “That answers my question, then.” you press one of the napkins to your neck, evidently cleaning the sweat still clinging to your skin. They swallow simultaneously, their eyes following your movements in a trance. “Can’t really blame you, Sirius overshot it with the new choreo.”

“Very in character, isn’t it?” James asks, tilting his head in what he thinks is flirty mannerism. Lily’s fingers twitch. “Didn’t seem to me like you struggled to pick up on it, though.”

Lily sends you what she hopes is her award winning smile. “Well, of course, she’s one of the main dancers for a reason.”

“The better one, if we’re being honest.” James adds indulgently.

“Careful now, flattery like that could get you in trouble, Potter.” you smile, eyes pointedly flickering between them. 

Lily flushes, but James’ grin gets impossibly wider.

“Oh, I can only be so lucky, right, lovie?” he says salaciously, throwing an arm around Lily. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst plan, really.” she answers, turning to meet your eyes. She arches an eyebrow. 

You pause, trying and failing to school your face and the evident blush creeping up your cheeks. Whatever you’re thinking is overshadowed when Marlene calls you over in a hurry, failing to properly clean the spilled water. 

As you part your lips to speak, their hearts pick up their erratic rhythm in anticipation. But you’re cut off almost immediately.

“Well?” Marlene calls out again, voice dropping to a mischievous cadence as you snap out of your head. “Are you going to stay there flirting or will you help me clean your bloody mess?”

Truly, it could not get better the way you scramble to make a beeline to your taunting friend, shoving the napkins in her hand. She mutters something that causes the blush to creep down all the way to your neck, and the strength in which you shove her has both of you breaking into conspiratorial laughter. Mostly Marlene, yours sounds a tad embarrassed.

Your eyes cut a quick glance at them.

Sirius claps again, arms spread to call everyone to attention. “Alright, then, let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?” 

There’s a diaspora of muttering as everyone walks to their places. Lily swallows nervously, acutely aware of all the eyes on her as the dancers and band wait for her to get to her place. Though she is quite used to the lingering gazes over her wherever she goes, there’s something oddly unnerving about your eyes on her. Boring into her back as she stands in front of the mirror, James squeezes her hip one last time as he moves to stand by his position. By your side.

Lily bites back a knowing smirk when his hand finds your waist, ready for the music to begin and the routine to kick off. Their gazes are charged with the weight of their whispered conversation where they meet through their reflections in the mirror, James winks before he turns to you.

You, for your part, seem engrossed in your own mind, breathing evenly to get yourself into the mentality you’re known for, to let your dancer persona step up and take over you. James’ arches an eyebrow at you, and for a moment, it feels like the routine has already started. Charged, tense, filled with an unspoken feeling you’ve yet to pinpoint. 

Sirius sends Lily a look, like he, too, can pick up on the tension happening behind her back. She only nods at him, signaling him to start the music. He raises an eyebrow, but clicks at the control and the room is quickly swallowed with the loud, relentless beat of her newest single. 

You slide next to James in muscle memory, hitting every beat with effortless rhythm and he follows you like waves in the sea, both in synchronized movements as Lily raises the microphone to her lips. Her eyes sparkle as they meet James’ through the mirror again.

And then, there it is. In between counts, pants and the stomp of each step on the floor, your gaze flickers in the mirror. The same complicated expression passes over your face again as James continues his own routine, sliding to Lily’s side for the chorus. Your gaze bores into his arms around her torso, touching her sweaty skin to his heart’s delight and they share a knowing look when your eyes lingers a beat too long on them, expression bordering on yearning where Lily hooks a leg around James’ waist. 

You blink, catching yourself in the mirror and the evident troubled look on your face. James nearly misses a step, his arm loosening around her waist. Lily’s hold on the microphone tightens, just like the feeling in her chest. Neither of them try to mask their almost-mistakes, but when their eyes meet in the reflection, they’re wide. Knowing. 

The pain in your abdomen was relentless, sharp, fiery, stabbing. Closing your eyes, letting the tears fall freely, did nothing to dull the agony.

It felt like knives were being driven into you, over and over, flames licking at the wound. You curled inward instinctively, trying to shrink from your own body.

A warm hand brushed across your cheek, gentle but firm, grounding you. You lifted your head, blinking through tears, and found Lily kneeling beside the bed. Worry was etched deep into her features, and the sight alone brought a fleeting sense of relief.

“Hey, lovely,” she whispered, voice soft and tender.

You let out a shaky sigh into the warmth of her hand.

“Hi, Lils,” you muttered, your voice cracking.

She smiled, small and sweet, like the world might still make sense. “You feeling okay?”

You shook your head. “It hurts.”

Her expression softened even more, and she immediately reached for a small tray beside her. “I know, love. I brought you some sage tea—it helps. Come on, up and drink.”

Just as you braced yourself to sit up, the door creaked open and James stepped in, holding a couple of things in his hands. “I brought some pills and a heating pad—oh, she’s awake,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. His eyes softened the moment he saw you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing damp hair from your forehead as he helped you prop yourself up against the pillows. “Still in pain?”

You nodded, your body shivering from both cold and discomfort. He set the heating pad against your lower abdomen, sighing softly. “We’re gonna take care of you, yeah? Just relax.”

Lily handed you the steaming mug of tea, and you took it gratefully, feeling a flicker of comfort in the warmth seeping through your fingers. “Thank you,” you whispered.

The sage tea scalded pleasantly against your palms, the warmth a fragile comfort in contrast to the searing cramps twisting your abdomen. You raised it to your lips, forcing yourself to swallow despite the nausea that clung to your throat.

Lily’s hand stayed at your back, steadying you, while James—never content to hover—slid into the bed beside you with boyish ease, tugging Lily with him until the three of you were pressed close in a kind of makeshift cocoon.

James’s arm snaked around your waist, tugging gently, trying to fold you into the circle of warmth he and Lily created. But the next wave of pain tore through you so violently that you jerked away, shoving his hand off with a broken gasp.

The mug slipped.

Boiling tea cascaded over your lap, your abdomen, your thigh. For a heartbeat you didn’t even register what had happened—only that the pain had doubled, red-hot agony layered over agony.

Then the scream tore from your throat, ragged and unrestrained, as if your body had finally reached its breaking point.

You couldn’t tell whether it was the burn or the cramps or both, but it didn’t matter. It was unbearable.

Everything blurred at once. The sheets flew back, Lily’s hands were on your face, trembling but firm, her voice a rapid string of soothing murmurs.

“Oh—fuck! Shit, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, just breathe, just breathe—” But even through her panic, you heard the cracks of fear in her tone, the fragile edges of her calm.

James was up in an instant, panic and horror crossing his features. You felt the tug as he stripped the blankets away, then the sharp rip of fabric as he tore your shorts open with no hesitation.

The cold air hit your skin, followed by the sickening throb of fire racing across your abdomen and thigh.

“This is gonna hurt a bit, I am so sorry—” James swore under his breath, voice hoarse, and you caught the flash of horror in his eyes as he leaned in. The skin was angry and blistering red, seared and furious.

Your sobs wracked through you, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you buried your face against Lily’s chest, clinging to her shirt like it was the only solid thing in the world.

She pressed her cheek to the top of your head, her hands stroking your hair even as her voice shook. “It’s alright, darling, we’ll fix this, you’re okay, just hold on.”

James’s touch was the opposite of hers—efficient, determined, but his movements trembled at the edges. “We need cool water. Now. Lil, wet a cloth, quickly.”

Lily hesitated for a second, torn between you and the order, before James snapped, gentler but no less urgent, “Go, I’ll stay with her. Please.”

The bed shifted as Lily rushed out, and James stayed crouched over you, one hand hovering protectively above the burn as though he could will the pain away.

“Sweetheart, I need you to keep breathing for me, okay? Just breathe. I’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”

By the time James reappeared, his arms were full—bandages, a jar of balm, a small bundle of medical tools, and the dripping weight of a wet cloth. His face was set in determined lines, but you could see the panic smoldering beneath his composure, a storm he wouldn’t let break because you needed him steady.

He knelt beside the bed again, setting the supplies down with sharp efficiency, and pressed the cloth gently to your stomach.

The hiss you let out made your whole body seize, your fists tightening in Lily’s shirt until your knuckles ached. She held you closer, pressing her lips to your temple, her voice unshaken despite the tears glimmering in her eyes.

“It’s okay, my love, it’s okay,” she whispered over and over, her words wrapping around you like a lullaby. “I know it hurts. I know. You’re in so much pain, but we’re right here. You’re safe.”

James worked quickly, his jaw tight as he cooled the burn in slow, deliberate passes. Every time you whimpered, his hands faltered, his breathing sharp as if he was the one in pain.

When he finally uncapped the balm, the scent of herbs filled the air. His fingers trembled slightly as he smoothed the ointment over the angry red skin, then carefully wrapped you in fresh bandages.

When it was done, he let out a breath like he’d been holding it the entire time. He reached for you without hesitation, tugging you into his chest.

You collapsed against him, your sobs muffled into his shirt, your body shaking with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered brokenly between gasps, though the words barely carried.

James pressed his lips to your hair, frowning. “What are you sorry for, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, coaxing, desperate for you to understand you’d done nothing wrong.

“For—” your words cracked, breaking into another sob, “for being such a burden… and for spilling the tea Lily made.”

“Oh, darling,” Lily breathed, her hands cupping your face as she leaned close, brushing away your tears with her thumbs. “No. No, no, no. You’re not a burden. You could never be a burden to us.” Her voice broke for the first time, but she steadied it with sheer force of love. “And the tea doesn’t matter. You matter. Only you.”

James held you tighter, his hand stroking your back in steady circles. “Listen to her,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick. “You’re the farthest thing from a burden. We’ll take every pain, every spill, every bit of it if it means you let us take care of you. That’s all we want.”

You sighed, body sagging into the warmth of their embrace, though the pain still clawed at you with every breath. For a while the room was quiet, save for the faint patter of rain against the windows and the uneven hitch of your own breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to will your body to loosen, to forget itself.

It was Lily who finally broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “Love,” she whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead, “I think you really should let us take you to the hospital. Just to get a checkup. To make sure nothing’s being missed.”

You shook your head immediately, your throat tightening. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

James, sitting pressed against your side, exhaled slowly, his hand stroking your arm as though soothing a frightened animal. “Sweetheart,,” he said carefully, “I know you don’t like hospitals, and I also know you hate checkups. But you’re always in this kind of pain—intense, unbearable pain—every month. That’s not something you should just live with.”

Your chest clenched at his words, shame bleeding into your exhaustion. Before he could say more, you cut in sharply, your voice breaking.

“If you don’t want me to bother you with it, fine. I’ll just go somewhere else when my period comes. You won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

The words hung in the air like shards of glass, and instantly both of them were speaking at once.

“What? No—absolutely not!” Lily’s voice cracked, horrified.

“Don’t you dare think that,” James snapped, firm but not unkind, his hand tightening protectively around yours.

Lily leaned closer, her green eyes fierce, as though she could burn the thought out of you entirely. “We don’t want you to go to the hospital because we’re fed up. We want you to go because we’re scared, love. Because we hate seeing you like this.” Her thumb stroked along your jaw, trembling. “You are not a burden. Not ever. Do you understand?”

James pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his voice low but urgent. “We’ll sit through every bloody appointment, every waiting room, every sleepless night if that’s what it takes. Don’t push us away.”

Your voice cracked as you whispered, “I can’t even hold a mug without spilling boiling tea all over myself. If I can’t manage something that simple, how long before you both get tired of me? What if I’m just… too much?”

“None of that, love.” James pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his words steady and fierce. “Even on the worst days—especially then—you’ll never be too much for us.”

You swallowed hard, blinking through the fresh wave of tears as you gave the smallest nod.

A moment later, Lily wrapped her arms firmly around your waist and pressed her cheek against yours. The warmth of her embrace steadied you, grounding you in a way words never could.

James’s expression softened as he watched both of his girls together, his heart full of love and pride.

You sighed, letting the tension bleed out of your shoulders as you whispered, “Okay… fine. Maybe tomorrow we can visit a doctor.”

Both of them lit up at once—relief softening their faces, a subtle glow of victory in their eyes. Lily brushed a kiss across your temple, whispering, “Thank you, love,” before standing from the bed. “Alright then, we’re ordering in. What are you craving?”

Beside you, you could already feel James perk up at the mere mention of food. His entire body tensed with excitement, like a dog about to be offered a treat.

Lily caught the look instantly and shot him a withering glare over her shoulder, her expression sharp enough to cut steel. The unspoken message was clear: don’t you dare speak before she does, you greedy prat.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped from you, even through the dull throb in your abdomen. “Hmm,” you hummed softly, pretending to think, though the answer came almost automatically. “I think… Mexican sounds nice.”

James all but leapt on the agreement. “Perfect! Brilliant choice!” His grin was infectious, though you could practically hear Lily’s exasperated sigh as she rolled her eyes at him, muttering something under her breath about bottomless pits.

“Mexican it is,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she went to place the order.

You leaned into James, letting his warmth soak into your aching body, the heavy thrum of pain still twisting deep in your stomach.

You knew it would only get worse when night fell—the way it always did. But pressed against him, with Lily fussing in the next room, it didn’t feel quite as unbearable as usual.

James pressed a kiss into your hair, still smiling to himself as if the simple promise of enchiladas had healed everything. You exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

Mexican wasn’t really what you were craving—truthfully, you couldn’t stomach the thought of much food at all—but James adored it. He always had, and somehow, every time the choice came up, you found yourself picking it just for him.

Because the truth was, even through the worst pain, making him happy still made you feel lighter. Even if that meant shelving your own cravings to make room for his, it hardly felt like a sacrifice—not when you loved them both with a depth that made the smallest compromises feel easy.

Affectionately known as The Potters by their friends despite not even being engaged, Lily and James were a unit no one could shake. They complimented one another in a million ways. Both intelligent, both loyal, both forces to be reckoned with.

Unbeknownst to your mutual friend group, you’d been an addition to their relationship for months now. At first, it started out as purely innocent admiration, but had quickly deteriorated into soul consuming yearning. It didn’t take long for any of you to crack.

They had you sprawled out between them, your body prone in Lily’s lap, James naked between your thighs. Your walls fluttered around his cock. You marveled at his smooth skin, fingers trailing over the flexed muscles of his abdomen. He hissed as they dipped low, tracing the antler tattoos on his v-line. You grinned, only faltering as Lily’s hands reached around your body to cup your breasts. Her fingers pinched at the sensitive skin of your nipples.

You arched into her touch, soft gasps leaving your lips.

“That’s it, sweets, you’ve done so well.” You keened at his words, tensing as he slid out of you. Lily buried her head into the crook of your neck, scattering love bites along your collarbone and shoulders.

James dipped his index and middle finger into your still sensitive cunt, scooping up your mixed cum and offering it to Lily. She took it gladly, tongue swirling around hid fingers. You stared, mouth going dry as James’ eyes darkened and Lily sucked hard on his skin. He moaned at the sight; you weren’t sure you could blame him.

“Careful, love.” Her answering cheeky grin was enough to have James surging forward. He pressed his lips to hers, mindful to not squish you between them. Lily took him on gladly, using his distraction to slip her fingers down to your clit. You gasped.

James chuckled against her mouth. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” She giggled. “Of course.”

You came quickly, body trembling as James moved to mouth at your breasts and Lily kept up her ministrations on your bundle of nerves. James nipped at your sensitive skin, savoring each and every one of your cries. “So perfect for us, sweets. Just look at you.” You mewled as Lily dipped her fingers into your cunt.

Her other hand came to grip James’ hair, guiding his mouth down your body towards your cunt. “Do me a favor and put your mouth to good use, yeah?” He lifted a brow and smirked. You reached out, gripping the hard flesh of his arms as he shifted down the bed.

“My mouth not good enough for you, Evans?”

She shrugged, jutting her chin towards your pubic region. Had it been anyone else, your body would’ve heated with embarrassment. Instead, you whined, practically writhing in her arms. James laughed.

“Think you’ve got another in you, sweets?”