#sunlitdewdrop

Those first awkward nights (how does one sneak a girl into the boy’s dormitory?) had been met with more than a little consternation. What with Lily nearly shoving him off the bed with her sprawling limbs, and James “half suffocating” her under his duvet, neither got much sleep. Sirius had the decency not to make jokes at either of their expenses until that afternoon, but Remus’ barely concealed grin at their matching disgruntled expressions as they trudged down to the Great Hall for breakfast was enough for James to jinx his legs together. At least Peter had the good grace to remain quiet.

Leaving the comfort of Hogwarts the frivolity of it changed. After joining the Order sleep wasn’t a standard luxury anymore, instead slipped between meetings and missions. They learned to sleep in shifts, usually in the clothes they wore, rarely even taking their shoes off. No one wanted to waste precious seconds to slip on a pair of trainers should a safe house be discovered.

On the days when one of them actually made it home the place felt foreign and empty. Sounds echoing off of the walls and late at night sleep would not come, their minds too focused on the fact that the other side of the bed was empty. And if luck weren’t on their side, it might remain that way.

The rare occasions when, by some miracle, they were home at the same time, exhaustion and fatigue overrode everything else. They were too young to worry so much, James would say, his bones feeling as though they were made of lead. Lily would mumble out a reply, hardly bothering to take her shoes off before climbing into bed.

They would gravitate towards each other in those moments, like planets colliding, curling around and over until there’s no knowing which limb belongs to which body.

She felt heavy. Her body weighed down until she’s sure that gravity would drag her into the earth and swallow her up. It’s not just a heaviness of her body, it’s a heaviness of her mind, filled with every face, every name of another person lost or missing. The Order was losing people faster than they could recruit and here she was, fussing over the fact that she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in.

The weight of the future felt like it was bearing down even as the weight of the child within caused her spine to arch and her feet to swell.

And Merlin, her feet. They ached in the worst possible way, limiting her to a hobbling walk. Running, especially running during a mission, wasn’t an option anymore. But hadn’t she been so fast? Running as quickly as her feet could carry, aiming wordless spells over her shoulder toward Voldemort’s mindless followers, her wand an extension of her body, getting back to the nearest safe house too high on adrenaline to sleep.

A sad smile played across her lips as she remembers.

She wanted to rest for a year, perhaps even two, but the baby happily kicking away at her ribs had other plans. Rolling over to her other side was becoming a mammoth task and she grunts with the effort, wincing at how the movement pulled at the already sore tendons and ligaments.

And then James’ hands were there, kneading into the aching muscles of her back, thumbs pressing against pressure points and she let out a breath that had been locked away in her lungs. He’s barely awake, words slurred as he massaged away the knots and she is finally able to fall asleep.

The Potter house is loud by default, with four children under the age of thirteen there is little that can be done to amend that. Summer weekends are easily the loudest, when everyone is home and together and suddenly there isn’t enough room within their house for all the growing bodies, each demanding their own space.

It’s still early, but there is the distinct noise of thundering feet and whispered yelling filtering up the stairs as several children try, and fail, to argue amongst themselves about which station they should listen to on the wireless. Someone whines loudly and there is the distinctive thump of a foot being stomped.

Neither parent stirs, having learned years before that throwing a mediator into the mix doesn’t help matters. There’s a loud crash followed by a squeal and Lily burrows deeper into the blankets, yanking them up over her head as though that will cancel out the sounds. Two children simultaneous call out for their parents, trying to tattle on the other.

James scrubs at his face and laughs.

“You know the rules, Potter,” says Lily groggily, not moving from her spot beneath the blanket, her voice muffled. “Whoever wakes up first has morning duty.”

“Laughing first doesn’t mean I was awake first,” James counters, smiling as he rolls on to his back and stretches with a groan.

“Mmn.” is the only reply he gets as another crash comes from the kitchen followed by an ominous silence.

Lily tugs the blanket down far enough that the top half of her face is visible, eyes glancing in the direction the noise came from as though she could see through the floorboards.

“You’re in charge of clean up.”

Throwing his specs back on his face and nearly jabbing his eye as he does it, James grins. “Evans,” he greets. 

“Potter,” she says, almost teasingly. “All right?”

“Brilliant,” says James honestly. Gathering up his nerve, he extends a hand. When she clasps it, he tries and fails to stop his smile from widening. 

They ease through the corridors in comfortable silence until they find themselves at the statue of the one-eyed witch. 

James slides through the opening on the witch’s back first, and when Lily follows, he steadies her once she’s landed by holding onto her waist. “You know, one might wonder if you have an ulterior motive for choosing this passage, Potter,” Lily says, as she places her hands over his. 

“I’d never,” he says, with anything but a straight face. 

She blows a raspberry at him and moves away, intertwining their fingers to drag him down the passage. 

Whether by eagerness to begin their outing or by happenstance, they arrive in Honeyduke’s cellar more quickly than they’d expected. James pulls out his invisibility cloak and gestures for her to come underneath. 

They shuffle closely together through the shop, trying not to bump into anyone. James thinks Lily may have patted his bum on their way out, but he refrains from commenting. If all goes to plan, he’ll have an opportunity to return the favour. 

The pair duck into an alley to shuck off the cloak, and James is finally able to turn and face her. “Can I buy you a butterbeer, Evans?”

Lily links her arm with his. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Rosmerta welcomes them, probably far more used to seeing him and his friends in Hogsmeade without a scheduled trip than she ought to be. “Two butterbeers, please,” he requests, and the barmaid gestures for them to take a seat. 

But before their drinks have even arrived, James puts his foot in it. Not, however, with his date. They are seated near an old crone, and knowing hags are hard of hearing, James wonders aloud to Lily, “What’s a hag doing in the Three Broomsticks? They usually stick to the Hog’s Head.”

The little thing turns to fully face him, and without so much as an introduction, whacks him in the face with her cane. “Rude boy! I am not a hag.”

Before he can stop himself, rubbing at his jaw, James says, “Well, you sure act like one.” 

She raises her cane again, and Rosmerta comes up behind the woman and tries to calm her down, frantically gesturing for James and Lily to leave.

In the safety of the streets, Lily laughs. “A hag, James?”

“Lily, in my defense, who dresses like that to Hogsmeade if they’re not a hag? And she was eating liver!” 

“Yeah, the liver of a cow, not a human child,” she points out. “We’ve missed our drinks now, you know.”

Determined for this date not to be a failure, he takes her to the Hog’s Head. They manage to acquire two butterbeers without disaster striking. They chat aimlessly as they sip at their drinks. She asks about his parents and James grins, telling her of their recent letter detailing a trip to India. James asks after Lily’s sister, which he supposes is the wrong thing to mention just then because her face falls, shortly followed by her butterbeer. “Christ,” she mutters to herself.

None of the drink gets on her clothes, but some of it finds its way into her hair, and she tries her best to wring it out. “I’ll go see if there’s something to get it out without going at your hair with a spell,” James says, heading for the bar. 

This, it turns out, is an even worse decision than his last one. A doxy infestation has taken hold in a grimy tablecloth behind the counter, one that goes unnoticed until James comes up to lean over the bar, grabbing another napkin while Aberforth, the innkeeper, is in the back. 

A swarm of the creatures fly out, and before James can even draw his wand, a couple of them attempt to bite Lily. She knocks the two back, but more of them fly over so James moves beside her and they knock as many of the creatures to the ground as they can. Aberforth stomps over from the back room and uses an unfamiliar spell that knocks every doxy out mid-air. “Potter,” he says, visibly agitated. 

“Wasn’t my fault,” says James, though it sort of was. “Can we at least finish our drinks? I did pay for them.”

They down their butterbeers and hurry out with Aberforth’s eyes following them the whole time. “That’s more exercise than I usually get on a date,” Lily jokes. 

“Clearly, you and I are doing dates differently,” says James easily. She raises an eyebrow, and James catches the double meaning in what he’s said. “Er, not that I’m - I didn’t mean to - don’t laugh, Evans, I’m trying not to be an arse,” he grumbles, but his lips are twitching.

“So,” teases Lily, “Anywhere else you’d like to get kicked out of today?” 

It occurs to him that perhaps they ought to go somewhere they can’t be kicked out of, like the Shrieking Shack or the Forest, but it immediately after he thinks that these are not terribly romantic locations. “How about you pick the next place,” he suggests. This is partly out of an effort to be gentlemanly, but also partly because he’s beginning to think there is a curse on this date. 

“There’s an apothecary down the road,” Lily muses as they walk. “I could always use more brewing supplies.”

“It is the plague of my life that the people I like best are... potioneers,” says James, mock shuddering. She pokes him in the side, and he laughs. “Lead the way.” 

James suppresses a chuckle at the way Lily’s eyes widen when they enter the shop. She seems quite enamoured with a particular type of snake fang they’ve just ordered in, so James amuses himself by browsing through the parts of the shop which contain living things.

He notices a familiar plant on one of the shelves. The title is smudged over with dirt, and he tries to make it out. Mimble - something? Herbology is not his strong suit. “What are you looking at?” says Lily from behind him, her arms full of supplies. 

“A plant,” he replies. “I think my dad has one of these at home. Not really sure what it does. Something to do with healing, maybe?” He reaches out a hand to prod it. 

When Lily gets a look at the plant, she says, “James, don’t -” But it’s too late. 

Stinksap spews out through the shop and covers them both, causing Lily to drop her potions ingredients. The shopkeeper comes by to give them grief, and James mutters, “We’re going, we’re going,” and slaps down on the counter what he thinks is enough gold to cover the damage. 

Once they’re out of the shop, the foul odour is no longer masked by the aroma of various potions. “We need to get rid of this,” says Lily, wrinkling her nose. The smell of the green goo has already started to cling to their clothes. 

“I’ll go first,” James offers. It is the least he can do after covering them in this mess in the first place. When Lily nods, he takes out his wand and says, “Aguamenti!”

In seconds, his companion is drenched. Lily rubs at her eyes and shakes her dripping hands. “I was sort of hoping you would just use Terego, James.” 

James’s face burns. “That... would’ve been a better idea,” he replies weakly. He takes her advice, but the damage has been done. The smell of watered-down stinksap lingers in the air around Lily even after he has siphoned off what he can. 

When Lily draws her wand, James raises up his hands. “You’re not going to hex me, are you?” he asks, only half-joking.

Lily takes pity on him and cleans up the mess, and after, James sighs. “Shall we call it quits while we still have life and limb?” 

“And here I was thinking we’d check out the forest next, maybe see if we can anger some Acromantula.”

Her tone is teasing, and James chooses not to mention that he did consider taking them to the forest. “We’ll save that plan for another day,” he tells her. 

He pulls out the cloak and they sneak back into Honeydukes. Several of the patrons turn and sniff the air, and Lily giggles. James takes her humour as a sign that she won’t hate him forever after this, which is always a good thing. He’s sure any chance he had with her is shot to hell, but it is enough to know she’ll still be around. 

They walk down through the passage together. Somehow, knowing their date is over, it becomes easier for them to talk. “I can’t believe you thought she was a hag. She had every right to jab you with that cane.” 

“Not in the face,” James protests. “She could’ve put an eye out! I have a bruise now, I’ll have you know.”

She scoffs. “Where?” 

He points to his jaw, at the tender spot where the not-hag’s cane had made contact. “There, Evans. I got wounded for you.” 

Lily peers closer at his face, and then deems the injury hardly fatal, giving him a smirk. “You got wounded because you don’t know how to keep your gob shut.” 

“I think the old bat was aiming for you, anyway. Seeing a pretty young witch was giving her a complex. Really, turning her attention to me was an act of chivalry.”

“Dragon dung.” 

“Why, yes, you do smell like dragon dung, Evans,” he says, sniffing the air pointedly. The stinksap smell has still yet to dissipate. “It’s quite an aphrodisiac.” 

“I wouldn’t smell like anything if it weren’t for your shoddy Charms work,” she points out.

“Take that back!” James protests. “My spells are anything but shoddy.”

They continue to debate on this point, which turns into an argument about whether or not Charms or Transfiguration is the more difficult subject, which carries them over until they’ve reached the end of the passage. Once they’ve climbed out, they meet eyes again, all traces of argument leaving them.

“This was...” Lily pauses for a moment, searching for a word. He cringes in anticipation, and Lily doesn’t let him down as she settles on, “terrible, honestly,”

“Absolutely awful,” he agrees, laughing. “We really shouldn’t date.”

“Each other, or at all?”

James shrugs, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “Take your pick.”

“It’s not all bad, I suppose,” she says fairly. She tries to hide a smile. “You did get injured for me, after all.” Her hand rests at his jaw for a moment, and James’s bruise doesn’t feel so sore.

She leans forward so slowly that James supposes she is giving him the opportunity to back away. He doesn’t, and she kisses him. He is too nervous for it to be spectacular, but his heart stutters as he tilts closer into her and brushes his lips against hers. 

Lily smells like stinksap, but she tastes like butterbeer and he likes the way their bodies fit together.

When they pull away, James feels like the warmth in his cheeks could light up all of Hogwarts. “Do you kiss all of your terrible dates?” 

She shrugs, smiling. “I would’ve wondered.”

He folds his arms, surveying her appearance. Her face is pink, and her hair is mussed. He thinks he might’ve been responsible for the latter without even realizing. “Did I pass?”

Lily’s eyes flicker upward, but her gaze is pointed away from him. “I’ll let you know.”