“He’s right there. For fuck’s sake Lily, he’s right there!”
“I’m not going to do anything, and that’s final, Mary.”
Mary stopped, watching Lily drain a flute of champagne, then looked around for another server, hoping to exchange it. “Are you serious right now?”
“Mhm.”
“Right,” Mary slid her phone into the hidden pocket of her green dress. “I’ll go speak to him myself. No harm in small talk is there?”
“Oh, would you quit it!” Lily grasped Mary’s dress as the woman nearly skittered off with a sly grin. “Look at him, he’s busy.”
“No, he’s not.”
“That is beside the point. This is his mother’s party. He is definitely busy.” Lily attempted to ration with her friend. She did so in a pleading tone, implying that she had no intention of even walking up to James, not even locking eyes with him. That would have led to the inevitable and rather consequential walk up and sweating she’d have to endure, one at a time. Then, she’d insult him and possibly degrade him in a way that was true to her, but inappropriate for the setting and environment, and she’d wake up five different times that night thinking about how she could have avoided embarrassing herself and possibly hurting James.
To put it simply, she really liked him and her authenticity was completely at risk. More specifically—unnecessarily—she had not an idea how to be sweet to James. She’d dreamt of it, golden light flickering on his skin as she traced the scars on his legs ran her fingers through his hair and whispered sweet somethings into his ear just to compensate for how ruthless she had been. Yet if a gun was held to her head in real time and James was in front of her, she’d have no idea how she’d avoid playing hard to get. Otherworldly things.
“Don’t roll your eyes. I’m serious.” Lily pulled Mary to her side, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s shoulder. “Look, I’m not trying to not make my move, but I’m being strategic about this,” she lied.
“Alright then.” Mary slid from under Lily’s hold. “What’s the strategy?”
Lily looked from side to side, squeezing in her brows and scrunching her nose in disgust.
“Cool.” Mary nodded. “Call me when you get drunk and we’ll sort this out!” She backed away slowly, leaving Lily with another server.
Lily traded her flute.
When she stood alone, as alone as one could be in a room of three hundred-odd people, she could begin to understand the appeal of money—not like she hadn’t known it before. The appeal of money was the connections, and as superficial as it sounds, the connections seem to go very far among the Potters. The money, along with the irresistible charm that Euphemia and Fleamont Potter failed to conceal made them royalty among common citizens.
Twenty years involved in medicinal research and five clinics not humanely possible bred good rumours and favour. They were even more proud to be turning fifty-five this year and being able to afford quite the marvellous marble hall for the banquet. It was a luxury that Lily was quite excited to witness.
She’d kept her eyes low, taking the plaits of green and red fabric swimming across the room in calm chatter and bursts of random laughter. Bodies stood stationary, necks turned briefly as she'd brushed by and apologized. Her eyes were set on the oddly prominent table of layered truffles, rimmed with the same green and red all guests sported.
As she stood there, stuffing her lips with chocolate, she became intensely aware of how easy it was to go unnoticed. That may have also been the effect of the loud orchestra that echoed through every hallway and the never-ending chatter. Yet it wasn’t easy to stay unnoticed. Not when James Potter had his mind set on her while his eyes were set on others.
“It’s good isn’t it?” a voice called out from behind Lily. She’d jump in slight surprise, speeding up her chewing before she opened her mouth to respond. All of a sudden, her jaw had gone cramped and it was impossible to chew as nearly as fast as she’d done before. She resorted to swallowing her dignity along with the chocolate, covering her mouth as she turned around.
“James! Yeah, no... this. This is horrible,” she muffled.
He smiled and quirked a brow, stepping in closer in a way that seemed just too close but not close at all, reaching under Lily’s arm to sneak a chocolate ball across. She’d jumped out of the way quickly before he popped it into his mouth.
“Mm..no..you’re right. This is horrible...” James said. “Except, I might need another one to make sure...Would you like one?”
“I think I would. No, not the yellow one. That one’s too sweet.”
He’d picked the yellow one. “Try it first. Maybe you’d be sweeter to me then.”
In honesty, Lily shouldn’t have been struck by his words, but it was the ease in the way he said it, nonchalantly and carelessly—like he’d thought about this a million times before.
“I’m always sweet to you, James,” Lily laughed.
"I’m sure you think so.”
“I think I think so,” she’d taken to scratching her scalp.
“Alright then. Show me if you can be sweeter than this ball.” James offered with his hand stretched out.
“Do you want me to dance? Is that what we’re doing?”
“It’s not my choice Lily Evans, it’s yours.” It was quite nice to hear her name from James’ mouth, like a dream was coming as he was saying it
“You’re trying to woo me.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
She paused to think. “Alright. I’ll dance with you.”
Gladly, he smiled and pointed to the nearly packed dancefloor, swarmed with elderly who moved as though a block of cement was chained to their feet.
She'd smiled back sweetly and stood on the tip of her feet, breathing right into James’ ear, “Not here.”
Two things were hilarious; Lily’s ability to dip James into her arms perfectly, and their clumsy dancing atop the rooftop of the party hall. It was windy, sending many shocks and shivers down Lily’s arms, making her move faster and laugh harder. The music was seemingly loud due to the direct stairway hidden behind one of the hall’s large drapes. Admittedly, she’d found it as a young couple had stumbled out cheerily and all red.
When the music seemed to slow, Lily seemed to stop completely, dipping James into her arms one last time as though he was a woman.
“You’re good, Lily. Thanks for putting me in my place.”
Lily, dropping down to sit cross-leggedly on the frigid cement floor, cranked her neck up to smile at James. “Nothing like introducing a friend to the world of dance. Sit,” she’d patted the floor.
He sat down, staring out into the dark blue sky and looking for where the horizon started but also taking in the redness of Lily Evan’s ice-kissed cheeks her slender red-tipped fingers her fierce red hair and her tough red heart. He couldn’t stop staring and she couldn't stop bleeding through her cheeks.
“James?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like staring?”
“What?”
“You seem to enjoy it.”
“Lily-”
“Hm?”
“You’re really beautiful. Do you know that?”
“I-” Lily searched for the words, something to articulate the words and signs blaring in her mind. She felt a sense of achievement like she’d won something better than anyone could lay their hands on. Silently, she also understood the wrongness of this. He might think she’s beautiful, but is he attracted to her? Is he captivated by the intensity, the cruel overwhelming emotions swirling in the air? Is he just saying things to say it? What? Why?
She’d composed herself, “You’re quite handsome yourself, James. I could even say dashing, like a prince.” Beside her, she felt his grin widen and his shoulders rise.
“Y’know, I can read you well, Lily. You’re easy. Really easy.”
Ultimately, she didn’t like that, but she’d stayed silent to hear him out.
“You’re mean.”
As much as it was true, she couldn’t help but frown. “I think you’ve said that already.”
“Did I? Well, I think you’re mean because it's your way of taking on the world. You’re afraid of getting hurt by anyone and anything so they have to fight their way in.” He stared out into the distance.
She stayed silent.
“That’s why you won’t let me in.”
In her head, she didn’t want to have this conversation; it was as though layers of hanging ice were waiting to slide off the mountains and onto her head. Her fight or flight systems were up and running and she was still deciding on which choice to make. She could have this conversation with James, or she could walk out—confirming his words.
She stayed. She fought.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Lily. I really care about you, in ways you don’t even know. Fuck, Lily. I really like you. Hmph.”
She stayed. She fought. She kept silent. She was afraid again. Her head bowed.
Warmth bloomed in her palms as James slid his fingers into hers.
“It’s really cold.” He thought he was slick. Suddenly, she didn’t feel that impending doom ringing in her ears, his touch had calmed her, reassured her. She could let down her guard against him because, in all honesty, he wasn’t going to hurt her. He never was, and all the horrible things she thought she knew about him were wrong. She’d noticed she hadn’t felt a bead of sweat on her forehead or in the creases of her elbows. She’d endured.
“It is. Thanks.”
“Was I right?”
“You were. You are.” She laughed slightly. “And what about you?”
“Me? I’m brave, kind, handsome, reckless, dashing. All sorts.”
“You’re crazy James,” Lily tucked her hair behind her ear and looked into James’ eyes.
He squeezed her hands gently, “I’ll show you how much of everything I can be. Go on a date with me.” James said this so matter of factly, Lily wasn’t aware of when she said yes, but he’d known she’d say yes.
Shyly, she’d scooted into him, pulling her hands into her lap and leaning against his shoulder. “I’d really love that, James.”
“Really?”
“Really really really.”
“For real?”
“For real for real for real.”
“It’s a date then.”
As they sat together, body to body, Lily understood the small pulse in the bottom of her torso; peace and contentment were blooming in her. She realized that he’d broken her down, tore away her defensiveness and made her stay. He’d made her so brave. She knew that whatever was coming her way, she and James could take them on.
She seriously couldn’t wait to tell Mary.