James Potter stands in the small muggle bookshop and feels like this is the hardest thing he's ever done.
(Yes, he's being dramatic. No, he doesn't care.)
It's not even because it’s a muggle bookshop. The issue is that he has no idea what book to get for his mother. He knows next to nothing about novels written by magical people, let alone muggles. But his mother loves muggle novels far more than wizarding ones, and her birthday is coming up, so here he is.
Sirius is beside him, arms folded with a small grin on his face as the two of them take stock of the walls of books around them. He’d been downright enthusiastic about them perusing muggle London shops, but the excitement had worn off after shop number three. They’re currently in shop number five, now, and James is starting to lose hope.
“Well?” Sirius asks, and James looks at him a little helplessly
“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” James says.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “James, it’s a book. Not rocket science. Just pick one.”
“But I don’t know what she likes! What if she hates it or something?”
Sirius groans dramatically, throwing his head back like this is the greatest burden he’s ever borne. (and it could be, honestly, because Sirius hates indecision more than anything.)
"Prongs, your mum is not going to disown you because you picked the wrong book. She’s not exactly the ‘burn at the stake for bad taste’ type."
“This isn’t just any book, Padfoot,” James says, still pacing down the aisle. “It's her birthday present. It has to be perfect.”
“Perfect,” Sirius mimics, his grin widening. “Mate, it’s a book. Grab something with a nice cover, write a heartfelt note in it, and she’ll love it because it’s from you.”
It’s probably true, James thinks, but that isn’t really the point, is it? His mum has always gone out of her way to make his birthdays special– cakes shaped like snitches, presents that always felt like they were plucked right from his imagination. He wants to return the favor.
But right now, all the books in the shop are just a blur of covers and titles, none of them screaming this is the one. It doesn’t help that James is absolutely helpless when it comes to books. Sirius is better, but it’s not as if he’s a genius or anything.
“I can’t just grab any old book,” James insists, still looking at all of the books surrounding him in the tiny bookshop. “What if it’s boring? Or worse, what if it’s something she’s already read?”
Sirius sighs heavily, leaning against the nearest shelf, which trembles a little. “Then she’ll do what normal people do,” he says. “smile, thank you, and stick it on the shelf with all the other gifts she didn’t love. Honestly, mate, you’re overthinking this.”
“No,” James says. “You’re underthinking it.”
“Is that even a word?” Sirius asks. But before James can answer, movement catches his eye. Someone is coming through the door to what must be a back room that leads to the register. He turns to look, and the second he sees who it is, he freezes.
It’s Lily Evans.
She’s focused on organizing things at the register, wearing a green apron with the shop's logo embroidered on it. It compliments her green eyes perfectly. Her dark red hair catches the light streaming through the shop window. She’s wearing it in the style she had worn it in all throughout Hogwarts. Loosely put up in a knot at the base of her head, her wand holding it in place, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
She’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous, and James feels like he’s right back at school, her hand in his, her head on his shoulder, the way she’d smile against his lips whenever he’d kiss her. He remembers waking with her in his arms, sunlight spilling through the window as he’d absentmindedly traced circles on her skin.
He blinks, forcing himself to focus, but the memories are so vivid, so real, that they make his chest ache. The feeling of her touch, the warmth, the love– it's all there in his mind like it’s happening again.
Dammit, he thought he was over this.
Sirius notices James' sudden silence and follows his gaze. His grin widens into something far too mischievous for James’ comfort. "Well, well. If it isn’t the girl who got away."
“Shut it, Padfoot,” James mutters, his cheeks heating.
“You going to say something, or are you just going to stare at her like a lovesick–”
“Shut up,” James hisses. And unfortunately for him, Lily looks up at the sound, and sees both him and Sirius. Her green eyes widen slightly, a flood of emotions crossing over her face, and then a slow smile forms on her lips.
“James Potter,” she says, her voice a little surprised but warm. “Fancy seeing you here.” She looks at Sirius, a small, exasperated smile on her face that brings him right back to Hogwarts And… Sirius Black. Of course.”
Sirius grins and gives her a mock bow. “Charmed, as always, Evans.”
“Lily Evans,” James says, ignoring his best friend, who’s raising his eyebrows a little suggestively. “Or– are you still Evans?” he asks, managing a lopsided grin, his hands awkwardly finding their way into his pockets.
Lily snorts. “Yeah,” she says. “Still Evans.” Lily’s smile turns a bit bitter, her eyes shifting slightly. "Like I’ll ever get married at this rate,” She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “It’s hard for muggleborns to do anything these days, let alone marriage," she adds, the humor in her voice dampening just a little, a hint of something more serious creeping in. James kicks himself internally, because, yeah, he should have known that. Should have remembered the recent marriage laws that had come into place against muggleborns.
"I'm sorry," he finally says, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I should have remembered… what’s going on right now. It’s not fair."
Lily shakes her head, a small, weary smile tugging at her lips. "Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault, James," she says, her tone gentle but firm. "I just… sometimes it’s–” She exhales slowly, as if trying to steady herself before speaking again. “But we aren’t here to talk about my problems. Can I help you with something?”
Well now he feels stupid. Because how is he supposed to ask for a book after that?
He’s silent for a moment, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. Lily smiles at him, though it’s a little sad. “I’m fine, James,” she says. “Really.” She glances around them. “I take it you need a book?”
“Lily–” Sirius begins, but Lily holds up a hand.
“Please, Sirius,” she says. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.”
“But–”
“Please,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that convinces them. Sirius looks at James for a beat, his expression softening. He seems to realize the weight of the moment, and with a small sigh, he nods. "Alright, Evans. We’ll leave it at that."
Lily turns back to James, her smile returning, though it’s still a little fragile. "Now," she says, her voice lightening, "You still need that book, right?"
James blinks, his mind scrambling to shift gears. "Right," he says, finally pulling himself together. He points to a shelf nearby, his voice a little uncertain. "It’s for my mum's birthday… I just… I don’t know what she’d like. I was hoping you might have some recommendations."
Lily smiles at him, a real one this time. “Any authors she likes?” James shrugs.
“Erm, I know she likes– well, she likes muggle novels better than magic ones. I think she likes one woman called Andrea Kristy–something.”
Lily lets out a laugh, and it makes his stomach flip over. “You mean Agatha Christie,” she says, and James nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “That sounds familiar.”
“Well, we’ve got a whole lot of Agatha Christie novels,” Lily says, slipping past him.
James watches her move down the aisle, her footsteps light on the creaky wooden floor, and for a moment, he’s almost lost in the rhythm of it—her confidence, the way she knows exactly where to go, like she’s done this a thousand times. It’s something about her energy that’s so familiar and yet entirely different from how he remembers her. His chest tightens for a second as a small, wistful feeling creeps in. He wishes he could go back to the times when it was easier between them, when it was just the two of them against the world.
Lily pulls out a few titles from the shelf. She holds one up to him with a raised eyebrow. "How about this one? Murder on the Orient Express? Pretty sure your mum would love it.”
“Is it good?” James asks, and Lily nods enthusiastically.
“Oh yes,” she says. “I’ve read it dozens of times. It’s one of my favorites.”
Lily’s smile softens as she watches him, her eyes reflecting a quiet understanding that he hasn’t seen from her since all that time ago at school. It makes his heart ache a little, that absence.
"It’s nice that you’re putting so much thought into it," Lily says, her voice softer now. "It’s the kind of thing your mum will appreciate, you know?"
James can feel the warmth in her words, and it makes his heart give an unexpected tug. "Yeah, well," he begins quietly. "She’s always done so much for me, and I want to do something for her that– you know– means something."
Lily nods. “Well of course you do,” she says softly. “That’s– well. That’s who you are.” She says it almost to herself, though she’s looking at him steadily as she says it. It’s longer than she needs to, and for a moment it’s like she’s seeing him again, really seeing him, the way she had at school, when he was hers and she was his. There’s a flicker in her eyes, an unspoken thought passing between them, and in a moment of madness, James wants to do nothing more than to kiss her senseless right there in this tiny bookshop in muggle London. But before James can decipher the look on her face or act on anything, she breaks the silence.
"Well, I think that’ll do it," she says, her voice a little higher than usual as she makes her way to the register. "I’m sure your mum will love it."
James watches as Lily moves to the register, her steps purposeful and steady, but there’s a slight hesitation in the way she handles the book, like she’s trying to steady herself, too. His heart tightens again as he watches her. The weight of everything that’s unsaid between them is still there, hanging in the air like a ghost neither of them wants to face, but can't quite ignore. The ache in his chest is sharper now, a sharp pang of nostalgia mixed with a tinge of regret.
“You alright?” Sirius asks under his breath, and James nods numbly.
“Fine,” he says, and he follows Lily to the register, pointedly not looking at Sirius’s face.
It feels like just yesterday they were together. It happens every time he sees her, which, admittedly, isn’t very much. But even now, when they’re no longer together, things just make sense. Lily was one of the first people to see him for who he really was– not just the cheeky Gryffindor with the purposefully messy hair and the reckless attitude, but someone worth loving. He remembers how her laugh had been the background, the soundtrack to the happiest days of his life, how she used to rest her head on his shoulder like nothing in the world could touch them. But that was before things changed. Before the war. Before the laws and restrictions that made everything so uncertain.
Lily had never been the type to cry, not even when they broke up a few months after leaving school. She just looked at him with those green eyes– resigned, sorrowful, determined– and told him that she couldn’t be with him anymore.
“I can’t put you at any more risk,” she’d said, voice shaking. “I love you more than anyone James and I can’t–”
He’d fought her on it, of course. Begged her to reconsider. Hoped she would come back, hoped they could fix things. None of those things happened.
It wasn’t a messy breakup, not one with shouting or accusations. It was quiet, and in a way, that made it worse.
It had been a clean break, but that didn’t make it any easier.
And he hasn’t seen Lily– really seen her, in a little over a year and a half. They’re both in the Order of course, but they’re in different sectors. Lily in the London one, and James in the Lake District, stationed with Sirius to handle intelligence and protection. James and Lily’s paths rarely crossed, save for the occasional hurried meeting or when Dumbledore summoned them both for something critical. Even then, the exchanges were brief, professional, and distant. And when they see each other in public, which is once in a blue moon, they can’t really act like they know each other well.
"Well, I’m gonna head out, mate," Sirius says suddenly, dragging James out of his thoughts. "I’ll be outside by the bike.”
James blinks, snapping out of his reverie, and gives Sirius a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll catch up." He turns back to Lily, who’s finishing up the transaction. She’s grinning as she does so.
“You’ve still got that old bike then?”
“My prized possession,” Sirius beams. “Best purchase I ever made.” Lily laughs softly, a sound that makes James feel warm despite the weight still pressing on his chest. It’s so familiar, so her, that it makes his stomach do another flip. Sirius hesitates for a beat, his gaze flicking between James and Lily, then smirks faintly, and disappears out the door.
The shop falls quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of traffic outside. James shifts his weight, the paper bag crinkling slightly in his grip.
“Thanks for your help, Evans,” he says, and Lily shrugs.
“It’s what friends are for,” she replies. “I’m sure your mum will love it. Tell her happy birthday from me, yeah?”
James nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, of course.”
For a moment, they just stand there, looking at each other, the space between them heavy with everything unsaid. James wants to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that’s grown between them, because– despite his efforts to tell himself otherwise– he’s still in love with her.
It’s the kind that lingers. The kind that settles deep in one’s bones when you wish it wouldn’t, even when it hurts. He shifts awkwardly, the bag crinkling in his hands, and tries to think of the right words, but everything feels too big or too small. He can’t look away from her. Can’t look away from Lily Evans. Can’t, because of the way her emerald green eyes seem to hold so much in them. Warmth, weariness, something unspoken– it doesn’t matter. She still captivates him. Always has, always will.
“Lily,” he starts, his voice quiet but urgent. Lily waits, like she knows he has more to say, like she’s bracing herself for it, and he’s about to say– he doesn’t know what. He knows what he wants to say, he’s been hoping to for years, but–
He can’t bring himself to. What would it change? It doesn’t make anything different.
Does it?
“You probably shouldn’t keep Sirius waiting,” Lily says, voice slightly strained, and James nods.
“Right,” he says. “I think–” He pauses, his gaze falling to the floor, and then he lifts his eyes to hers again, the weight of everything unsaid between them making his chest ache.
He hesitates, his fingers tightening around the bag in his hands. “Just– be careful,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “You know things are getting worse, and– ” He trails off, swallowing thickly, hating how small his voice sounds.
Lily’s expression softens, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, she meets his gaze fully, her green eyes steady and resolute. “I will,” she answers quietly, her voice carrying a calm certainty that only makes his chest ache more.
Her lips twitch into the faintest smile, fragile but sincere. “You too, James,” she says. “Promise me you’ll be careful, too.”
James musters a smile. “Hey,” he says. “It’s me.”
She snorts. “That’s what worries me,” she remarks, shaking her head, and James shrugs.
Silence permeates between them.
“I should get going,” James says. “Can’t keep Sirius waiting for too long,” he echoes Lily’s words, and she smiles, though it’s strained.
“Probably best,” she says, leaning forward a little. James nods, though every fiber of him wants to stay here with her. It’s what feels right. It’s what feels– okay.
“Thanks again for the help,” he says, his voice a little uneven.
“Anytime,” Lily replies, her smile soft but guarded.
He turns around, then takes another step towards the door, and then another, his feet feeling heavier with every move. Sirius is waiting outside, probably leaning against his bike, throwing knowing looks at the window. James can practically hear the teasing already, but it feels distant, irrelevant.
His hand brushes the door handle, and he hesitates.
For a second, he just stands there, staring at the old wooden door, his breath shallow. The weight in his chest feels unbearable, a tug he can’t quite ignore.
Before he knows what he’s doing, he turns around.
“Lily,” he says, his voice louder than he intended, breaking the quiet of the shop.
Lily’s been watching him, evidently, steadily keeping her gaze on him as he walks away from her. It feels oddly like the moment they’d ended things. It feels, now, like history is repeating itself.
But–
“Lily,” he repeats her name softly. “I–”
“I know,” she replies, voice shaking as much as it did when she’d broken things off. “I know,” she repeats, quieter this time, her gaze dropping to the counter as if she’s trying to gather her thoughts. Then she lifts her eyes back to his, and there’s something in them that makes his chest tighten. The look in her eyes– soft, vulnerable, conflicted, understanding– tells him more than words ever could. She doesn’t have to say it, because he can see it clearly enough. She still feels it, too.
“You never should’ve had to make that choice,” he says, his voice low, filled with regret. “I know you had to, but… you didn’t deserve to. It was never fair to you.”
Lily swallows thickly, and James wishes he could read her mind, know what she’s thinking. “Maybe not,” she says. “But I made it anyway.”
He’s about to say something more, but at that moment, the door to the shop opens, the tiny bell above it jingling sharply. James instinctively steps back, his shoulders stiffening, the moment between them snapping in two.
James’s heart sinks then as the emotions on Lily’s face shift, and it’s almost as if the conversation never happened.
“Well,” James clears his throat as the old woman who’s just entered the shop walks to the register. “I’ll see you around, Evans.”
She smiles at him.