Thrice: resist (2/4)
( back to 1/4 )
once
Lily Evans felt bold that night, long before she saw the Dark Mark blooming in the sky, the very first time she’d seen its lurid green against dark clouds instead of against newsprint. She thought boldness might be catching off of James, who’d shown up alone at the Evanses door, broomstick in hand and cool-as-you-please. And cold, as well, since he hadn’t dressed for the weather.
Petunia opened the door, noticed the broomstick in his hand, and slammed the door immediately.
It was lucky Lily came up right behind her, half-expecting from the slam it was Severus trying again and steeling herself to send him off. Through the door she could hear his lame “Have I got the wrong address?”
She threw the door open and watched James Potter’s face light up, and tried to keep the responding happy skip of her heart in check. She ended up scowling so she wouldn’t smile. “Are you mad? Don’t you owl first? And James, it’s winter, you need more than a shirt for outside, are you trying to catch your death?” She stopped, slightly nervously, and found herself patting down her hair. “Nothing’s wrong, I hope?”
His stupid grin stayed in place, and he lifted his hand to wave at Petunia, who was bobbing angrily over Lily’s shoulder. “Nothing more than usual,” he said reassuringly, first, leaning his weight on his broomstick. “I’m no madder than I’ve ever been, merely brilliant, you’d have told me not to come if I wrote, and incidentally I’m not sure if you actually can catch death, but if it can be done, I’m your man.”
Her heart skipped again. His hair was more ruffled than she’d ever seen it, though it certainly wasn’t windy out. She’d expect in this sleet it would be plastered to his head and wondered how long James had stood on her porch ruffling his hair before ringing their bell.
“I am cold, though,” James added, crinkling his nose. “And, er, wet. Can I come in, Lily?”
“You not having enough sense to dress properly is no reason to let you in,” said Lily, mock-primly, and she could sense the waves of relief exuding from Petunia. “But you’re reasonably entertaining company,” she said wickedly, darting a quick glance at her sister. “I’m sure you could join us-”
“No,” hissed Petunia. “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare. This is my day-”
“Evening, actually,” said James helpfully. “If this is a bad time-”
“A very bad time,” said Petunia rapidly, trying to close the door, but Lily stepped into the threshold with a “Not at all.”
There was a ring of laughter from the kitchen, and James looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Are you having a party?”
“Who are you?” said Petunia, looking frustrated.
“You must be the sister,” he said, nodding, and in an easy motion tossed the broomstick to his other hand so he could stick his right hand past Lily and offer it for Petunia to shake. “Hello, I’m James Potter.”
“Fine, but who are you?” said Petunia, withholding her hand and keeping it protectively close to her chest. “What does he want here?”
“Oh,” said Lily flippantly, feeling as if she was walking on air. “He’s this bloke from school I’m dating. Why don’t we go on a walk, Potter- I’ll get my coat.”
The veins standing out on Petunia’s neck stopped throbbing. She gave a stiff little nod and moved away quickly.
“Oh, all right then,” said James, finally withdrawing his extended hand and looking behind him at the weather. “Lily,” he said cautiously, looking a good deal less bold. “You do know the weather’s a bit ugly?”
“We won’t melt, James. Just stay right there,” she warned him, and dashed for the slop room, past her parents, Petunia's fiancee Vernon, his horrid sister Marjorie and Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.
“Who is it?” asked her mother, looking up from her roast beef.
“A friend,” said Lily, breathlessly, as she tried to get her hands through her coat sleeves despite having returned with them full. “I’m going out for a bit. Dad, I’m borrowing your coat.”
“What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing?” said Mr. Evans, bewildered.
“Lily, you’ve hardly even eaten anything,” said her mother in admonishment, with a lift to her tone that warned Lily to sit down.
“No, let her go,” said Petunia, rather nastily. “Her boyfriend’s here.”
“Her what?” said Mr. Evans.
“You mean the Snape boy?” asked Mrs. Evans, looking at her oldest daughter.
Lily, hopping about as shoved got her galoshes on, looked up in annoyance. “He wasn’t my-”
“Some new one,” said Petunia curtly. “Something Potter.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Evans, delightedly. “Why don’t you ask him in, Lily?”
“No!” she and Petunia said simultaneously. Their guests stared.
Petunia cleared her throat. “He’s from that school,” she said, in a whisper that belonged on stage.
“I thought that was for girls with criminal tendencies?” said Vernon’s sister, a croissant in her mouth.
“What?” said Mrs. Evans, bewildered.
“No, not at all. What a horrible thought,” said Lily somberly, galoshes safely on and her dad’s trench on her arm. “Enrollment certainly has no gender bias. It’s equal opportunity for anyone with a properly felonious bent.”
The Dursleys looked very disapproving, and also very much as if they wanted to get back to the meal.
Mr. Evans was trying desperately to hide his snorts in his napkin.
“Lily,” said Mrs. Evans, desperate in a different way, “I really think we ought to-”
“Oh, she can go, Iris,” said Mr. Evans, getting control of his chortling and waving her off. “Make sure the boy has you back before eleven and don’t let him damage my coat-”
Lily dropped a kiss on his head, already moving past the table, calling, “Thanks Dad! See you all soon!”
Petunia had shut the front door, of course, and Lily flew it open again, hurriedly.
No one was on the porch. “James?” she called, shutting the door behind her and starting to feel a little put out.
“Here,” he called from the front lawn. She hustled over, covering her eyes, and found him poking at the lawn gnome with his broomstick. “What’s with the silly little dwarf?”
“It’s a gnome,” she said, pulling a knit hat out of her coat pocket.
James made a small disbelieving noise. “That’s not a gnome. Come over to my place sometime, I’ll show you gnomes.”
“Your place?” she repeated, slightly too innocently, and he looked up, rocked.
Squinting through the sleet, she could see him patting at his hair. “Ah, well, my parent’s place, you know. Gnomes,” he continued, awkwardly, “are not ever that clean, or even that creepy. Though they might look funny in little hats. Is that coat for me?”
She tossed it to him.
He snagged it one-handed, still looking straight at her. “That’s cute,” he said, smiling. “You realize, of course, being seventeen means you don’t need a raincoat.”
“That’s rubbish,” she said, her mother’s years of nagging kicking in, “however old you are you still ne- oh.” Lily stopped, now kicking herself as she realized James’ smile was widening and he really wasn’t remotely wet. Impervious, probably. “You ruddy fibber- what was that ‘I’m cold’ nonsense about then?”
“I thought you might be more inclined to let me in then.” He shuffled a little. “And I’m a bit cold,” he added, putting on the coat over a ratty black T-shirt she was sure he had borrowed from Sirius Black and which probably fit Black much better.
“I’m not sure what to think about that,” she said, musingly. “So, you either thought I’m so unfriendly that even now I wouldn’t let you in-”
“That’s not-”
“Or,” she continued, struggling to keep her face McGonagall stern, “you thought you’d better hedge your bet on me being typically gullible-”
“No!” said James, ruffling his hair so frantically he seemed to be pulling it out. “Not really gullible- I’d say more like… soft-hearted. You’re not going back in, are you?” he said anxiously.
“No,” she said, grumbling as she reached into her skirt pocket for her wand. “I’m going to repel water the magic way and I’m annoyed I didn’t think of it myself. And I don’t want to go back in there, my sister’s fiancée’s family is over and they’re simply wretched.”
“More wretched than me?” he asked as she cast the charm.
She covered the tip of her wand with her hand so the small flare of light wouldn’t attract any attention. “Oh, so much more wretched,” she said dismissively, his face much more distinct now the sleet bounced away from her. “Vernon makes Lucas Bulstrode look like a catch.”
James pulled a face, draping her father’s coat over his broomstick. “Well, there’s a chilling thought. So you’re glad to see me?”
“Aside from the fibbing bit… Very.”
“Oh,” he said, stunned as she slipped him a smile. “Splendid. Give us a kiss?” he said, brassily, stepping closer.
She shoved his chest. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”
He staggered back and lifted his eyebrows. “Right, we should probably get off your front lawn first.” He eyed the loose way the coat draped about him appraisingly. “Someone in your house has very broad shoulders that make me think a decent first impression is very much in my best interest.”
“Is that what you came here for?” said Lily, tongue resting on the back of her teeth as the laugh crept on her. “To meet my parents? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Potter…”
His smile was a little weaker. “Two weeks of vacation’s a long time, Evans.”
“You missed me?”
He tapped his fingers against the handle of his broomstick. “Well - I didn’t want you to go changing your mind on me, that’s all.”
She thought of several harsh retorts to that, and didn’t remotely like him thinking so contrary. His expression, though, was so soft despite the angles of his face. “Have you ever had Chinese takeaway?”
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind or that you haven’t?”
“That, James, means dinner.”
When James grinned, really grinned, his eyes crinkled until she could hardly see a sliver of hazel. “Are you asking me out, Lily?”
“Yes,” she said, and held out her hand. He moved to take it, held up a finger, and dashed up her front steps to lean his broomstick surreptitiously against the door. Then he bounded back to her, looking relieved to find her hand still out. James took it, very quickly and carefully, the way she imagined he’d be careful with the delicate wings of a Snitch.
The sleet fell around them, a perfect shroud of streaking water and slips of ice that never came close to touching them.
“But-” Lily began, as James swung their hands forward, “you better be on your best behavior.”
“Oh,” he said, with a smirk that was somehow quite serious. “I solemnly swear.”
James meant it, too. He let her lead him on the ‘scenic route’, without asking what inspired her to double back halfway towards the shortcut through Spinner’s End, he opened the door and even held it for the seven people behind them, he even, rather magically, had Muggle money on him to cover the bill. “Sirius likes these little bits of paper,” he said, putting back his lime green wallet and trying to cover the fact that it was magically shrinking. She’d entirely forgotten her pocketbook, so Lily found herself silently blessing Sirius’ apparent preoccupation with Muggle things. “You ought to see what he bought with them.”
She was a little afraid to ask.
“Give us another week,” he said thoughtfully, already peeking into the bag and its cartons, “and we’ll have her in the air.”
“Her who?”
“You’ll see,” James said, as mysteriously as he could manage, but the way he dipped his head just sent his glasses sliding down his nose. Instinctively, she reached out and pushed them back up.
He went very still for a second, until Lily said, “There,” rather uncomfortably, and then he rattled on with, “This taking away business, sort of leaves you with nowhere to eat, yeah?”
“There’s a park,” she said, not even thinking about where it was or who she’d met there. “With benches.”
“Benches,” said James, “sound brilliant.”
They never got to eat. The bag forgotten on the bench, she had to explain to James what swings were for -
(“You sort of feel like you’re flying.”
“There’s nothing like flying. C’mon, swinging? Rather lame, innit?”
"Not when you jump.")
-and then he discovered the teeter-totter-
(“Well, this is a bit clever. Sit down, Lily, come on-”
“Really, I don’t think my bum’s impervious, it’ll get all wet…”
“… Am I supposed to object?”)
Lily really was never sure quite what to do with James, whether to slap him or walk away or kiss him, so she laughed and crossed her fingers that he’d manage to get up the nerve to try and kiss her again.
She needn’t have worried, since he was, after all, a Gryffindor.
But so was she. When he slipped in the cold mud dashing towards the slide, and went down flat, she went over laughing at him. Somehow, then, when he laughed too, a rich, vibrating sound that seemed to weigh down the air, and looked up through mud-smeared glasses (imperviousness, apparently, didn’t extend to mud), and gave her a “Give me a hand?” that really meant Let me pull you down with me, before her mind could quite catch-up to the flutter in the back of her throat, Lily Evans dropped to her knees and pressed her lips against James Potter's so fiercely their teeth clinked.
He closed his eyes. She kept hers open.
It was one of those treasure moments, one of the ones Lily wanted to lock away to remember perfectly when her knees creaked and her mouth drooped and her eyesight had grown as bad as James’. It wasn’t even especially magic, though they could reheat the food and clean her father’s coat in an eyeblink and they weren’t even particularly wet or cold. But still he was real, James Potter, here in her ordinary place and not the magic castle where she went off to school, and he’d changed but not oh-so-terribly much, or maybe it was her that changed- and for a minute, there was nothing else in the world that mattered, no one, nowhere, never.
She wanted to keep this second, the two of them laughing into each other’s mouths, his tongue colliding with the roof of her mouth, the frame of his glasses brushing her cheek, the coarseness of the hair on the back of his neck against her hand.
There was a blaze of green behind his head then. She caught a glimpse of it in the upper corners of her eyes and blinked, still seeing green flares against her eyelids when she shut them.
“James,” she said, pulling back, arms still around his neck though her face was tilting up.
It was brighter than she expected, and not as close. Somehow there was a new constellation in the sky, a snake and skull speckled out in stars as green as her own eyes.
James must have seen the light reflecting on her face when he opened his eyes at last. He craned his neck, nearly bending backwards and swore.
The green reflected against the sleet. It looked like it was over Spinner’s End, Lily reflected, and wondered if she should tell James this.
“Snape lives thereabouts,” she said, amazed at how matter-of-fact she sounded. “His dad’s a Muggle.”
She didn’t have to even ask, because though his face grew shaded and thoughtful, James helped her up and nodded when she told him where to Apparate. “No, don’t mind,” she said, grabbing his arm as he started to turn. “Hang on to me, I know where we can see from.”
Besides, she could manage it silently and she’d heard the volume of James’ pop! throughout practice.
His grip squeezed her so closely it took a moment before she realized it was working.
They appeared in one of the narrow alleys Lily used to be frightened of because of the lack of a streetlamp, so close to being under the Mark she shivered. James let go, patting down the coat a bit and readying his wand.
It wasn’t Snape’s house. She could tell immediately, since it wasn’t even on Spinner’s End. With a sick feeling, though, she realized she knew the house.
James’ eyes went magnetically to the figure hanging in the air from its ankles, neck at a strange angle. “Is that- ” he whispered, swallowing, “a woman?”
Lily had known her. She lived on Bobbin Lane, one of the identical brick streets just over from Snape, and everyone hated her. The Muggles called her a witch, but then they wouldn’t know any better, or how much she wished she was. “It’s Miss Crouch,” she said, voice catching. “She’s a Squib.”
“Crouch?” James repeated.
In summers Sev had done petty yard work for Miss Crouch, who was something of a friend of Mrs. Snape’s, done it the hard Muggle way and gotten a few warnings from the Ministry when he’d tried to get around it. Miss Crouch paid him in casseroles, not cash. She’d called Lily a word she didn’t care to remember, the one time she’d lounged around with her friend there.
“Oh God,” said Lily. She stared at the Muggle neighbors who were coming out and the few masked figures prowling the shabby but always safe little street. In her town. Screams started and Silencing Spells swooshed through the night air. “We have to do something.”
She looked for James on her left and had to wheel nearly all the way around to find him over her shoulder, turned away and looking into a mirror. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “Now’s not the time to fix your hair, Potter! A woman’s dead, people are hurt-”
“Sirius is coming,” he interrupted, turning the mirror towards her, and she caught a flash of long hair, not hers, on the surface and heard an almost tinny voice saying something like ‘going swimmingly’ or ‘getting Ministry’. “He’ll get help- I think.”
Lily was too distracted by the sudden of appearance of a mirror larger than both her hands to worry about the ‘I think’. “Where’d that come from?”
“My wallet.” He paused, and visibly bit the inside of his cheek. “Should we get out of here?”
“What?!”
James winced. “There’s at least four of them and we’ve called the Ministry-”
“Fine,” she said coldly, spinning on her heel and lifting her wand. “You go, then-”
He caught her arm, hard. His grip was extraordinarily tight. It almost frightened her. “Lily,” James said, slightly desperately. “I don’t want to go tell your sister I got you killed. Or give your dad back his coat and not his daughter. It’s- not our job.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of his expression, as his eyes darted again and again over her face. “It should be,” said Lily, boldly. Maybe she hadn’t caught it from James after all. “It would be awful embarrassing, the Head Girl and Boy of Hogwarts running away from something like this. Let go of my arm, James.”
He did. “It would be a disgrace,” he agreed, smiling weakly. Something in his face, the way his chin went weak and his eyes didn’t crinkle, said It’ll be you they’re coming for, then. Really, she didn’t want that any more than he did.
She simply stared at him for a split-second, then glanced back at Bobbin Lane, and, very quickly, said, “Would you even hesitate, if you were with Sirius?”
“Hell no,” said James at once, and Lily thought then she might well fall in this love with this boy. That the man this James Potter might become wasn’t just someone she could be with but who she wanted to be with.
She thought she might have taken his hand and held onto it throughout, but they both used their rights for wand hands. And it might look a bit laughable. “Don’t do me any favors, Potter,” she said, and tightened her grip on her wand. There was another scream.
“On three, then?” said James, and she started running through all the curses and charms she knew from Dueling Club. She’d hardly thought of needing them for a firefight.
“One,” she said in answer. Stupefy, of course, Confringo, Protego was essential, Confundo…
“Two,” he said, fast, and nudged her shoulder with his. Relashio to make them drop their wands, perhaps Portus if escape became desperate- James was always up for illegality…
“Three,” said Lily, thinking perhaps Oppugno, and under the emerald stars, they went to war to bring them down.
( on to 3/4 )
once
Lily Evans felt bold that night, long before she saw the Dark Mark blooming in the sky, the very first time she’d seen its lurid green against dark clouds instead of against newsprint. She thought boldness might be catching off of James, who’d shown up alone at the Evanses door, broomstick in hand and cool-as-you-please. And cold, as well, since he hadn’t dressed for the weather.
Petunia opened the door, noticed the broomstick in his hand, and slammed the door immediately.
It was lucky Lily came up right behind her, half-expecting from the slam it was Severus trying again and steeling herself to send him off. Through the door she could hear his lame “Have I got the wrong address?”
She threw the door open and watched James Potter’s face light up, and tried to keep the responding happy skip of her heart in check. She ended up scowling so she wouldn’t smile. “Are you mad? Don’t you owl first? And James, it’s winter, you need more than a shirt for outside, are you trying to catch your death?” She stopped, slightly nervously, and found herself patting down her hair. “Nothing’s wrong, I hope?”
His stupid grin stayed in place, and he lifted his hand to wave at Petunia, who was bobbing angrily over Lily’s shoulder. “Nothing more than usual,” he said reassuringly, first, leaning his weight on his broomstick. “I’m no madder than I’ve ever been, merely brilliant, you’d have told me not to come if I wrote, and incidentally I’m not sure if you actually can catch death, but if it can be done, I’m your man.”
Her heart skipped again. His hair was more ruffled than she’d ever seen it, though it certainly wasn’t windy out. She’d expect in this sleet it would be plastered to his head and wondered how long James had stood on her porch ruffling his hair before ringing their bell.
“I am cold, though,” James added, crinkling his nose. “And, er, wet. Can I come in, Lily?”
“You not having enough sense to dress properly is no reason to let you in,” said Lily, mock-primly, and she could sense the waves of relief exuding from Petunia. “But you’re reasonably entertaining company,” she said wickedly, darting a quick glance at her sister. “I’m sure you could join us-”
“No,” hissed Petunia. “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare. This is my day-”
“Evening, actually,” said James helpfully. “If this is a bad time-”
“A very bad time,” said Petunia rapidly, trying to close the door, but Lily stepped into the threshold with a “Not at all.”
There was a ring of laughter from the kitchen, and James looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Are you having a party?”
“Who are you?” said Petunia, looking frustrated.
“You must be the sister,” he said, nodding, and in an easy motion tossed the broomstick to his other hand so he could stick his right hand past Lily and offer it for Petunia to shake. “Hello, I’m James Potter.”
“Fine, but who are you?” said Petunia, withholding her hand and keeping it protectively close to her chest. “What does he want here?”
“Oh,” said Lily flippantly, feeling as if she was walking on air. “He’s this bloke from school I’m dating. Why don’t we go on a walk, Potter- I’ll get my coat.”
The veins standing out on Petunia’s neck stopped throbbing. She gave a stiff little nod and moved away quickly.
“Oh, all right then,” said James, finally withdrawing his extended hand and looking behind him at the weather. “Lily,” he said cautiously, looking a good deal less bold. “You do know the weather’s a bit ugly?”
“We won’t melt, James. Just stay right there,” she warned him, and dashed for the slop room, past her parents, Petunia's fiancee Vernon, his horrid sister Marjorie and Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.
“Who is it?” asked her mother, looking up from her roast beef.
“A friend,” said Lily, breathlessly, as she tried to get her hands through her coat sleeves despite having returned with them full. “I’m going out for a bit. Dad, I’m borrowing your coat.”
“What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing?” said Mr. Evans, bewildered.
“Lily, you’ve hardly even eaten anything,” said her mother in admonishment, with a lift to her tone that warned Lily to sit down.
“No, let her go,” said Petunia, rather nastily. “Her boyfriend’s here.”
“Her what?” said Mr. Evans.
“You mean the Snape boy?” asked Mrs. Evans, looking at her oldest daughter.
Lily, hopping about as shoved got her galoshes on, looked up in annoyance. “He wasn’t my-”
“Some new one,” said Petunia curtly. “Something Potter.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Evans, delightedly. “Why don’t you ask him in, Lily?”
“No!” she and Petunia said simultaneously. Their guests stared.
Petunia cleared her throat. “He’s from that school,” she said, in a whisper that belonged on stage.
“I thought that was for girls with criminal tendencies?” said Vernon’s sister, a croissant in her mouth.
“What?” said Mrs. Evans, bewildered.
“No, not at all. What a horrible thought,” said Lily somberly, galoshes safely on and her dad’s trench on her arm. “Enrollment certainly has no gender bias. It’s equal opportunity for anyone with a properly felonious bent.”
The Dursleys looked very disapproving, and also very much as if they wanted to get back to the meal.
Mr. Evans was trying desperately to hide his snorts in his napkin.
“Lily,” said Mrs. Evans, desperate in a different way, “I really think we ought to-”
“Oh, she can go, Iris,” said Mr. Evans, getting control of his chortling and waving her off. “Make sure the boy has you back before eleven and don’t let him damage my coat-”
Lily dropped a kiss on his head, already moving past the table, calling, “Thanks Dad! See you all soon!”
Petunia had shut the front door, of course, and Lily flew it open again, hurriedly.
No one was on the porch. “James?” she called, shutting the door behind her and starting to feel a little put out.
“Here,” he called from the front lawn. She hustled over, covering her eyes, and found him poking at the lawn gnome with his broomstick. “What’s with the silly little dwarf?”
“It’s a gnome,” she said, pulling a knit hat out of her coat pocket.
James made a small disbelieving noise. “That’s not a gnome. Come over to my place sometime, I’ll show you gnomes.”
“Your place?” she repeated, slightly too innocently, and he looked up, rocked.
Squinting through the sleet, she could see him patting at his hair. “Ah, well, my parent’s place, you know. Gnomes,” he continued, awkwardly, “are not ever that clean, or even that creepy. Though they might look funny in little hats. Is that coat for me?”
She tossed it to him.
He snagged it one-handed, still looking straight at her. “That’s cute,” he said, smiling. “You realize, of course, being seventeen means you don’t need a raincoat.”
“That’s rubbish,” she said, her mother’s years of nagging kicking in, “however old you are you still ne- oh.” Lily stopped, now kicking herself as she realized James’ smile was widening and he really wasn’t remotely wet. Impervious, probably. “You ruddy fibber- what was that ‘I’m cold’ nonsense about then?”
“I thought you might be more inclined to let me in then.” He shuffled a little. “And I’m a bit cold,” he added, putting on the coat over a ratty black T-shirt she was sure he had borrowed from Sirius Black and which probably fit Black much better.
“I’m not sure what to think about that,” she said, musingly. “So, you either thought I’m so unfriendly that even now I wouldn’t let you in-”
“That’s not-”
“Or,” she continued, struggling to keep her face McGonagall stern, “you thought you’d better hedge your bet on me being typically gullible-”
“No!” said James, ruffling his hair so frantically he seemed to be pulling it out. “Not really gullible- I’d say more like… soft-hearted. You’re not going back in, are you?” he said anxiously.
“No,” she said, grumbling as she reached into her skirt pocket for her wand. “I’m going to repel water the magic way and I’m annoyed I didn’t think of it myself. And I don’t want to go back in there, my sister’s fiancée’s family is over and they’re simply wretched.”
“More wretched than me?” he asked as she cast the charm.
She covered the tip of her wand with her hand so the small flare of light wouldn’t attract any attention. “Oh, so much more wretched,” she said dismissively, his face much more distinct now the sleet bounced away from her. “Vernon makes Lucas Bulstrode look like a catch.”
James pulled a face, draping her father’s coat over his broomstick. “Well, there’s a chilling thought. So you’re glad to see me?”
“Aside from the fibbing bit… Very.”
“Oh,” he said, stunned as she slipped him a smile. “Splendid. Give us a kiss?” he said, brassily, stepping closer.
She shoved his chest. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”
He staggered back and lifted his eyebrows. “Right, we should probably get off your front lawn first.” He eyed the loose way the coat draped about him appraisingly. “Someone in your house has very broad shoulders that make me think a decent first impression is very much in my best interest.”
“Is that what you came here for?” said Lily, tongue resting on the back of her teeth as the laugh crept on her. “To meet my parents? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Potter…”
His smile was a little weaker. “Two weeks of vacation’s a long time, Evans.”
“You missed me?”
He tapped his fingers against the handle of his broomstick. “Well - I didn’t want you to go changing your mind on me, that’s all.”
She thought of several harsh retorts to that, and didn’t remotely like him thinking so contrary. His expression, though, was so soft despite the angles of his face. “Have you ever had Chinese takeaway?”
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind or that you haven’t?”
“That, James, means dinner.”
When James grinned, really grinned, his eyes crinkled until she could hardly see a sliver of hazel. “Are you asking me out, Lily?”
“Yes,” she said, and held out her hand. He moved to take it, held up a finger, and dashed up her front steps to lean his broomstick surreptitiously against the door. Then he bounded back to her, looking relieved to find her hand still out. James took it, very quickly and carefully, the way she imagined he’d be careful with the delicate wings of a Snitch.
The sleet fell around them, a perfect shroud of streaking water and slips of ice that never came close to touching them.
“But-” Lily began, as James swung their hands forward, “you better be on your best behavior.”
“Oh,” he said, with a smirk that was somehow quite serious. “I solemnly swear.”
James meant it, too. He let her lead him on the ‘scenic route’, without asking what inspired her to double back halfway towards the shortcut through Spinner’s End, he opened the door and even held it for the seven people behind them, he even, rather magically, had Muggle money on him to cover the bill. “Sirius likes these little bits of paper,” he said, putting back his lime green wallet and trying to cover the fact that it was magically shrinking. She’d entirely forgotten her pocketbook, so Lily found herself silently blessing Sirius’ apparent preoccupation with Muggle things. “You ought to see what he bought with them.”
She was a little afraid to ask.
“Give us another week,” he said thoughtfully, already peeking into the bag and its cartons, “and we’ll have her in the air.”
“Her who?”
“You’ll see,” James said, as mysteriously as he could manage, but the way he dipped his head just sent his glasses sliding down his nose. Instinctively, she reached out and pushed them back up.
He went very still for a second, until Lily said, “There,” rather uncomfortably, and then he rattled on with, “This taking away business, sort of leaves you with nowhere to eat, yeah?”
“There’s a park,” she said, not even thinking about where it was or who she’d met there. “With benches.”
“Benches,” said James, “sound brilliant.”
They never got to eat. The bag forgotten on the bench, she had to explain to James what swings were for -
(“You sort of feel like you’re flying.”
“There’s nothing like flying. C’mon, swinging? Rather lame, innit?”
"Not when you jump.")
-and then he discovered the teeter-totter-
(“Well, this is a bit clever. Sit down, Lily, come on-”
“Really, I don’t think my bum’s impervious, it’ll get all wet…”
“… Am I supposed to object?”)
Lily really was never sure quite what to do with James, whether to slap him or walk away or kiss him, so she laughed and crossed her fingers that he’d manage to get up the nerve to try and kiss her again.
She needn’t have worried, since he was, after all, a Gryffindor.
But so was she. When he slipped in the cold mud dashing towards the slide, and went down flat, she went over laughing at him. Somehow, then, when he laughed too, a rich, vibrating sound that seemed to weigh down the air, and looked up through mud-smeared glasses (imperviousness, apparently, didn’t extend to mud), and gave her a “Give me a hand?” that really meant Let me pull you down with me, before her mind could quite catch-up to the flutter in the back of her throat, Lily Evans dropped to her knees and pressed her lips against James Potter's so fiercely their teeth clinked.
He closed his eyes. She kept hers open.
It was one of those treasure moments, one of the ones Lily wanted to lock away to remember perfectly when her knees creaked and her mouth drooped and her eyesight had grown as bad as James’. It wasn’t even especially magic, though they could reheat the food and clean her father’s coat in an eyeblink and they weren’t even particularly wet or cold. But still he was real, James Potter, here in her ordinary place and not the magic castle where she went off to school, and he’d changed but not oh-so-terribly much, or maybe it was her that changed- and for a minute, there was nothing else in the world that mattered, no one, nowhere, never.
She wanted to keep this second, the two of them laughing into each other’s mouths, his tongue colliding with the roof of her mouth, the frame of his glasses brushing her cheek, the coarseness of the hair on the back of his neck against her hand.
There was a blaze of green behind his head then. She caught a glimpse of it in the upper corners of her eyes and blinked, still seeing green flares against her eyelids when she shut them.
“James,” she said, pulling back, arms still around his neck though her face was tilting up.
It was brighter than she expected, and not as close. Somehow there was a new constellation in the sky, a snake and skull speckled out in stars as green as her own eyes.
James must have seen the light reflecting on her face when he opened his eyes at last. He craned his neck, nearly bending backwards and swore.
The green reflected against the sleet. It looked like it was over Spinner’s End, Lily reflected, and wondered if she should tell James this.
“Snape lives thereabouts,” she said, amazed at how matter-of-fact she sounded. “His dad’s a Muggle.”
She didn’t have to even ask, because though his face grew shaded and thoughtful, James helped her up and nodded when she told him where to Apparate. “No, don’t mind,” she said, grabbing his arm as he started to turn. “Hang on to me, I know where we can see from.”
Besides, she could manage it silently and she’d heard the volume of James’ pop! throughout practice.
His grip squeezed her so closely it took a moment before she realized it was working.
They appeared in one of the narrow alleys Lily used to be frightened of because of the lack of a streetlamp, so close to being under the Mark she shivered. James let go, patting down the coat a bit and readying his wand.
It wasn’t Snape’s house. She could tell immediately, since it wasn’t even on Spinner’s End. With a sick feeling, though, she realized she knew the house.
James’ eyes went magnetically to the figure hanging in the air from its ankles, neck at a strange angle. “Is that- ” he whispered, swallowing, “a woman?”
Lily had known her. She lived on Bobbin Lane, one of the identical brick streets just over from Snape, and everyone hated her. The Muggles called her a witch, but then they wouldn’t know any better, or how much she wished she was. “It’s Miss Crouch,” she said, voice catching. “She’s a Squib.”
“Crouch?” James repeated.
In summers Sev had done petty yard work for Miss Crouch, who was something of a friend of Mrs. Snape’s, done it the hard Muggle way and gotten a few warnings from the Ministry when he’d tried to get around it. Miss Crouch paid him in casseroles, not cash. She’d called Lily a word she didn’t care to remember, the one time she’d lounged around with her friend there.
“Oh God,” said Lily. She stared at the Muggle neighbors who were coming out and the few masked figures prowling the shabby but always safe little street. In her town. Screams started and Silencing Spells swooshed through the night air. “We have to do something.”
She looked for James on her left and had to wheel nearly all the way around to find him over her shoulder, turned away and looking into a mirror. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “Now’s not the time to fix your hair, Potter! A woman’s dead, people are hurt-”
“Sirius is coming,” he interrupted, turning the mirror towards her, and she caught a flash of long hair, not hers, on the surface and heard an almost tinny voice saying something like ‘going swimmingly’ or ‘getting Ministry’. “He’ll get help- I think.”
Lily was too distracted by the sudden of appearance of a mirror larger than both her hands to worry about the ‘I think’. “Where’d that come from?”
“My wallet.” He paused, and visibly bit the inside of his cheek. “Should we get out of here?”
“What?!”
James winced. “There’s at least four of them and we’ve called the Ministry-”
“Fine,” she said coldly, spinning on her heel and lifting her wand. “You go, then-”
He caught her arm, hard. His grip was extraordinarily tight. It almost frightened her. “Lily,” James said, slightly desperately. “I don’t want to go tell your sister I got you killed. Or give your dad back his coat and not his daughter. It’s- not our job.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of his expression, as his eyes darted again and again over her face. “It should be,” said Lily, boldly. Maybe she hadn’t caught it from James after all. “It would be awful embarrassing, the Head Girl and Boy of Hogwarts running away from something like this. Let go of my arm, James.”
He did. “It would be a disgrace,” he agreed, smiling weakly. Something in his face, the way his chin went weak and his eyes didn’t crinkle, said It’ll be you they’re coming for, then. Really, she didn’t want that any more than he did.
She simply stared at him for a split-second, then glanced back at Bobbin Lane, and, very quickly, said, “Would you even hesitate, if you were with Sirius?”
“Hell no,” said James at once, and Lily thought then she might well fall in this love with this boy. That the man this James Potter might become wasn’t just someone she could be with but who she wanted to be with.
She thought she might have taken his hand and held onto it throughout, but they both used their rights for wand hands. And it might look a bit laughable. “Don’t do me any favors, Potter,” she said, and tightened her grip on her wand. There was another scream.
“On three, then?” said James, and she started running through all the curses and charms she knew from Dueling Club. She’d hardly thought of needing them for a firefight.
“One,” she said in answer. Stupefy, of course, Confringo, Protego was essential, Confundo…
“Two,” he said, fast, and nudged her shoulder with his. Relashio to make them drop their wands, perhaps Portus if escape became desperate- James was always up for illegality…
“Three,” said Lily, thinking perhaps Oppugno, and under the emerald stars, they went to war to bring them down.
( on to 3/4 )