Auriga
Auriga
(The Charioteer)
The constellation of the crossing of points between the Earth and Moon’s orbital waves.
Symbolizes the joining of heaven and earth.
The line of destiny; fate.
Dark Arts is regrettably a boring affair. James doesn’t get the chance to speak with Lily again but it is certainly not for lack of trying.
He spends the duration of Professor Dearborn’s lecture on ward breaking sneaking glances at Lily. His attempts to ignore the old man’s drones are wildly successful—it’s not his fault Lily’s easily more interesting than whatever he has to say. His efforts are rather wasted, though, as they go unnoticed by her.
Lily—who is the ever devoted student, dutifully writes down every single thing Dearborn spouts. Part of him feels guilty—almost privileged—for so easily being able to afford to not pay attention without missing a beat. His brain contends with himself, occasionally forcing himself to scratch down something, but he’s constantly pulled back to her. It’s difficult when she’s so captivating.
There is a rare moment of silence. A lull in the lesson whilst Dearborn scrambles for his wand for a demonstration. It’s in the halt that James is able to catch her eye.
And once he gets over the twinkle in her emerald orbs, he notices that she’s nibbling on a square or chocolate, lips curled upward, passing him a secret kind of smile as she does. And his heart does a flip, a funny flutter. It’s as if the ground has slipped out from beneath him—
It makes him feel like he’s floating.
He’s having one of those moments now, the ones he’s yet to understand but constantly confronted with when in Lily’s presence. The silly notion that things happen at certain times for a reason. That their paths were meant to meet, right here, right in this moment.
Like his entire life is a long, rich tapestry and suddenly Lily is being woven into it, but now that she’s there, it’s difficult to remember when she wasn’t. Like she was inevitable.
All this for some fleeting glance—he must be insane, truly.
Remus’ golden eyes soon slice through the moment, pressing and sharp, forcing James to turn back to the board. The lessons concludes not long after that, without any looks passed between both Lily and Remus. As soon as they are dismissed, he almost instantly catches the flash of her auburn hair and golden ribbon as she scurries from the room. James hopes she’s moving with such haste to the great hall for a meal, but he has a sneaking suspicion she has every intention to hide away in the library.
He stamps down the urge to do something foolish like check for himself, knowing if he doesn’t get a move on he’ll be late for Quidditch—though, he finds for once, he’s actually dreading having to go.
Quidditch is meant to start everyday straight after lessons at four-thirty, though four-fifteen is more accurate (thanks to the Gryffindor captain's punctuality and insistence). It runs for about two hours or is meant to, anyway. More often than not, the team is lucky to be done by seven o’clock. Admittedly—most days they’re doing drills until seven-thirty. Even eight-thirty during the weeks before a big match or following a poor showing.
James—ever the dedicated captain and teammate—has taken it upon himself to lend both his time and skill to those who could use the additional practice. Particularly, a third-year named Theo Baddock, a young lad who has got a passion for being a chaser and a bright future at it, if James has anything to do with it.
Tonight, however, a little more than half past six, James calls practice, leaving his teammates slack jawed and whispering amongst themselves but it’s something no one dares question aloud. This is a once and a lifetime kind of thing and the Gryffindor Quidditch team will take a well-deserved break.
As everyone files away to the locker room excited for the early night, Theo bounds up to James—as he always does—broom in hand and toothy grin plastered across his face.
“Ah, Theo.” James begins as he comes closer, “what do you say we take a night off. The both of us?”
The little third-year looks around like this is some sort of trick. His small eyes are wide in confusion as he fumbles around for a correct response. James, however, is left eagerly tapping his foot, anxious for his evening plans which for once do not involve Quidditch.
“Night off?” The young boy squeaks.
James nods, running a hand through his windswept hair. “Sure, mate. You’ve been working rather hard and the terms picking up. Go do your homework, pull a prank, rest—whatever you want.” He encourages.
It’s not a complete lie, of course. Theo is nothing if not dedicated and hard-working. James reckons a little praise is long overdue and if the little bloke just happens to have caught him in a good mood, no harm done.
“Really?” He beams, smiling bright enough to light the entire pitch.
“Really.” James nods. He moves to ruffle the boy's blonde hair and smiles fondly. “Rain check, yeah?” He says beginning to walk back to the locker room.
“Yeah!” Theo yips excitedly as he leaps back to the castle.
James watches him go, smile fading as he heads into the locker room. He takes a quick shower there, a rare and painful feat he often avoids (the water pressure does nothing for his hair). After, he changes into a pair of jeans and soft grey jumper he keeps in his locker. Normally, it’s reserved for full moons, when he needs to rush away, but he finds it comes in handy now, too, though for a completely different purpose.
Glancing at the clock, it’s about seven, which is perfect, really. Mentally, he gathers he’d find Lily by seven-thirty and they’d hangout for about an hour, leaving plenty of time before the nine o’clock curfew.
A stupid boyish part of him begins to half-plan their conversations in his head. The things he’ll show her. Jokes that may coax a smile—even a laugh from her.
As he works out a good Peeves joke, he mindlessly goes to reach for his bag. He pushes his hand past the crumpled up bits of parchment and between a pair of textbooks, feeling around for the map.
“Fuck.” He huffs, after a moment.
He left the damned thing under his pillow.
With a sigh, he starts to his dorm as quick as his legs can carry him. Thankfully, this is the time of day Remus spends locked away and working diligently in his Head Boy office—Sirius spends this time dedicated to annoying the life out of him. That, at least, saves James from the impending interrogation from the latter and sour looks from the former. Peter, who usually is in the dorm at this time of night, happens to be occupied working on a hefty group assignment for History of Magic. Though, he wasn’t likely to ask questions, anyway.
Whistling idly as he goes, James pushes open the door to his room—only to freeze when he finds it already occupied.
“What are you doing here?” He asks before he can help himself, all but giving himself away.
“I could ask you the same thing. Doesn’t Quidditch run until seven-thirty?” Sirius asks a little too knowingly as he places down some magazine he was reading on motorbike parts.
“Quidditch is two hours.” James responds stupidly.
Sirius scoffs, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, maybe in some parallel universe.” He remarks, moving to sit up. “And you’re showered and changed.”
“So? Maybe I smelt.” James retorts, a tad too defensive to be perceived as casual.
“But you hate the shower pressure in the locker room. Can’t charm in the way you like to get your hair to look…stupid.”
Instinctively James’ hand flies up to his scalp, fluffing some of the decidedly dull curls. “My hair is not stupid, it’s—” he glances at Sirius, who is grinning mischievously and stops. “Aren’t you meant to be bothering Moony right now?”
Sirius' grin only widens. “One of his prefects is sick and he has to cover rounds later. He was nice enough to slot me in during dinner.” James rolls his eyes, as he continues, cheeky and unbothered. “I got Pete during Dark Arts—not that you’d have noticed. So, that just leaves you, but would you look at that? My Prongs seems to be in a hurry.”
“Your Prongs has something to do.” He huffs, making a move to his bed and pulling the map from beneath his pillow.
Without missing a beat, Sirius moves to sit at the edge of James’ bed.
“And say, does this have something to do with a certain bird?” He asks with knowing amusement. “Say she’s new. Red hair. Muggle-born. Name rhymes with silly ?”
James blushes an intense shade of red but continues trying to play it cool. “What are you on about?”
“I mean, I think it’s cute, really.” Sirius begins. “But if this is your pick of birds to start wasting your time snogging tarts in broom closets again, I’d advise against it. I mean sure, you’re fit, you’re good at Quidditch, you’ve got money—”
“Bugger off, that’s not what this is about.” He snaps tersely. “I haven’t snogged—or even shagged, for that matter—anyone since way before I even knew Lily, anyway.” He adds for good measure.
“Ohhh,” Sirius coos delighted. “So this is about Lily?”
James rolls his eyes, trying to mask his growing frustration. “I’m meant to be meeting her and show her around a bit. However, this completelyuseless conversation seems to be keeping me.” He grits out whilst he studies the map. Suddenly, he stops. Wand drawn over the parchment as he squares his shoulders and turns to his friend. “Do you really think this is just about shagging her?” He asks quietly, a twinge of sadness leaking into his words.
Sirius sighs, grin slipping off his face. “No, mate. I was just messing with you. I know you stopped all that at the end of last year.”
And sure, James used to have a bit of a reputation. He could charm the pants—literally—off any girl in the castle. It was never serious. Always mutually agreed to be beneficial for all parties involved. No strings attached. Just some good old fashioned fun.
However, with the existential crisis that came with the conclusion of his sixth-year and all that transpired over the summer, he found he had little time and interest to chase skirts for nothing but a quick bout of pleasure. Along with his unmatched arrogance and ego the size of the sun, this was one of his past behaviors he was happy to shed with his growing maturity. Thinking about it now, he was almost ashamed. He knows his Mum would be mortified if she ever found out what her baby boy used to be like. It plants a seed of guilt deep within his ribs, blooming into something suffocating if he reflects on it for too long.
“Because I’m not interested in that anymore. Especially not with Lily.” He says leaving no room for argument. “Not because there’s anything wrong with her or because she’s not pretty. She needs a friend and I—”
“I get it.” Sirius cuts off before he can dig himself a bigger hole. “Really, James, you’ve grown up a lot and not to give myself any credit—”
“Which you surely will.”
“But I reckon it’s got a thing or two to do with me… or rather what happened this summer.” Sirius says quietly, a little darkly. “We all see it, alright? Don’t be too hard on yourself. I know that’s not what you want with Evans.” He finishes more firmly.
“Are you sure?” James asks, question laced with uncertainty.
“Yes I am, I just—”
“No, I mean, are you sure you all see it?” He emphasizes, hoping Sirius will read between the lines.
He blinks confusedly, but answers “yes,” again.
“I just—” he begins, teeth biting into his lip in thought. “Do you think Moony likes Lily?” James blurts out, the question lingering heavily in the room.
Something on Sirius’ face falls. Just for a single moment, his eyes dull and his lips falter, before he begins snickering.
“Remus? And Lily?” He repeats between chuckles.
James huffs and rolls his eyes, willing his friend to be serious for just one moment.
Once he’s calmed his breathing and wiped his eyes, Sirius begins speaking. “Look, mate, I know you look at Evans like she invented Quidditch—”
“I do not.” James defends.
“But I don’t think she’s Moony’s type.” Sirius finishes, tone light but with a renewed sense of finality behind it.
And okay—that’s fair and James, of course, considered the possibility. Lily is objectively beautiful, anyone with working eyes could see as much but James wasn’t very good at reading romantic situations, especially when it came to Remus.
Remus—who was often closed off and difficult to read when it came to personal manners, was always tight lipped when it came to relationships. And despite Lily’s beauty, part of James knew the thought was far-fetched. He honestly wasn't sure if Remus was even attracted to girls.
It wasn’t something they spoke about but it wasn’t something they didn’t not speak about, either.
After the incident with Snape at the end of fifth-year, things between the foursomes dynamic was in shambles. Namely, the atmosphere between Sirius and Remus. Remus, during this time had gotten closer to Grant Page, a Hufflepuff he was prefects with whom he later admitted to liking. James knows that the two never made things official, for fear of scrutiny from others, but spent a lot of time together after the incident.
James never pressed Remus on it, knowing that time was particularly rough for all of them, but mostly him. And while James is inherently good with people. He has always been, well, stupid—for lack of a better word—when it came to things like relationship advice. It wasn’t that Remus was embarrassed or never brought it up, either, but Sirius was much better at that kind of thing and considering they were on the outs at the time, it hadn’t come up again.
Sure—Remus has commented a few other times about other boys he thought were cute since but James wasn’t sure if he exclusively liked guys or not.
Lucky for him, he supposes, it seems like Sirius did know.
Bless him for being so damn nosey.
“Oh.” Is all James says. “I mean I kind of thought it was a long shot too—” Sirius scoffs, as if to say, you think? “But I don’t know why else he seems to be so upset whenever I’m near her or even mention her. I mean, even he acknowledged I’ve been better, the other day with Snape, right?” James begins anxiously.
Sirius shrugs, “I wouldn’t think too much into it. Full moon’s coming up.” He tries to reason, unable to come up with a more sufficient reason himself.
“But you noticed too? I’m not crazy?” James presses, eager for the validation.
Sirius nods reluctantly, “yeah, I noticed.” James’ face falls but he continues in attempts to lighten the mood. “But hey, he’s just like that sometimes. Part of his angsty teen werewolf charm , I suppose.”
James sighs tensely. “I’m serious.”
“No, I’m Sirius.” He can’t resist
James groans and thumps him on the head with the map in frustration.
“Okay, okay.” He relents, hands thrown in mock surrender. “Look, have you tried, I don’t know… asking?” Sirius suggests like it’s a wild idea.
James again, rolls his eyes, decidedly unimpressed. “What am I supposed to even say? Hey, Moony, why do you act like I shoved wolfsbane up your arse every time I’m near Lily? ” He finishes with a cocked brow.
“Well maybe not that exactly.”
James huffs, left unsatisfied and frustrated “Look, I gotta go, I’m gonna be late. Cover for me? Please?” He says with wide pleading eyes, hoping his mate will cut him a break.
“Fine.” Sirius grumbles. “Go on your secret rendezvous. See if I care.” He teases, walking back to his bed and picking up his magazine again.
James beams, tapping his wand on the parchment as he scans it for Lily’s name.
Library—he should’ve known, honestly.
“Love you, Pads.” James says blowing exaggerated kisses his way as he backs out of the room and shuts the door.
As soon as it closes Sirius flips open his magazine and laughs to himself. “Boy, does he got it bad.”
James strolls into the library, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking and feeling wildly out of place. He can’t recall the last time he was in here—if ever, honestly.
James wasn’t a dumb bloke by any means—far from it, actually. He excelled in magic, whether it be luck, genetics, whatever you wish to call it, he does know for a fact he didn’t come by these skills with a nose buried in books. His talent wasn’t learned, it just was.
Throughout his years of schooling, he and his mates have established a steady rotation, a kind of system, if you will. Remus, ever the good student, sought out their books for essays or projects and the rest of them would just pass it around, pulling from different passages on assignments requiring citations. Though not something he’d ethically feel comfortable sharing with his Professors, it’s pretty efficient and has gotten him this far. Bonus, that it has cut the library from his life completely.
Well—until now, that is.
And his presence seems to garner some attention because heads from the nearby tables begin turning his way. Whispers begin rising at the tables, heads bowed and brows scrunched. Eyes lingering on him a moment too long as he passes.
He nods at a few of his stunned-looking teammates and tosses a dull smile to a group of whispering seventh-year Ravenclaw girls. Otherwise, he keeps his head down and scans for red amongst the rows of shelves.
He finds her tucked away in a quiet corner, hidden away from the rest of the world. She’s surrounded by a fortress of books, stacked taller than her. She hasn’t changed from her uniform but she’s discarded her tie and her sleeves are rumpled and rolled at her forearms. Her golden ribbon, looser than before, dangles from her auburn hair, which falls in a sheet around her shoulders. Her green eyes are sharp and intent as she scribbles mercilessly on a piece of parchment. Her tongue poked slightly past her pink lips in concentration. There’s ink staining her fingertips.
James freezes at the sight of her and for a moment all he can do is stare. She looks so damn adorable that he takes a minute to curse to himself under his breath. Because fuck—if Lily Evans looks this cute doing something as simple as concentrating he may find himself in the library more often.
Merlin, help him, he is absolutely doomed.
“Lily.” He calls gently, pitching his voice somewhere between a whisper and normal volume as not to disturb the other students.
She doesn’t do much as flinch.
“Trouble.” He tries again, this time stepping closer.
Still nothing.
Gently—so gently—as not to startle her, he places a soft hand atop her much smaller shoulder. “Lily, hey.”
She flinches slightly at the contact but it’s enough to gather her attention. Her green eyes blink up at him, her dark lashes casting shadows against her flushed cheeks.
“James, hi.” She says quietly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there.” She admits, a lovely shade of pink spreading across her cheeks.
Yeah, he is completely, utterly fucked.
“‘S alright,” he reassures her, voice warm. “I just hope I’m not interrupting?” He says, gesturing vaguely to the quill still clutched in her ink-stained fingers.
“Oh, no, you’re not!” She says quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just making some revisions. I’m nearly done. Would you mind terribly waiting a moment?” She asks shyly, beginning to wring her hands together nervously.
James fights a grin, trying not to show the fact her bashfulness is making his heart gallop like a hippogriff.
Luckily, he gathers his senses, if only for a moment. “Course not, Trouble.” He says easily. He then maneuvers around the table, plopping into the chair across from her and stretches like he owns the place. One arm lazily resting on the back of the chair beside him, the other drumming idly against the wooden tabletop. “Take your time. I’ll just be right here.” He tells her with a grin.
She spares him a final glance, blush deepening and a smile playing at her lips before she delves back into her work. And just like during lessons today, he’s transfixed. Don’t get him wrong—he’s quite certain there isn’t anything Lily could do that wouldn’t captivate him. But this—her, so in her element. Well, he thinks he could sit in this library forever if this was his view.
He watches her for a beat longer before letting his eyes wander idly to the grand expanse of books hovering and shelves lining the wall. The atmosphere is quiet—peaceful, even and yet his thoughts are anything but. As much as he tries to act nonchalant and uninterested, he is continuously drawn back to her.
Time seems to stretch and warp in these moments, but Lily remains true to her promise and after five minutes, sets her quill down. He only snaps out of his daze when she announces the fact.
“Done.” She states with a small smile.
Luckily, her undeterred focus seems to have been in his favor because she doesn’t seem to notice that he was staring at her like a total creep.
“Perfect.” James replied, springing to his feet.
Lily does the same, grabbing at one of the dozen books at the table and piling them into a neat stack. “Don’t worry. These ones live in the library, so you don’t need to offer to lug them around.” She teases quietly as she gathers one of the heftier texts and walks toward a nearby shelf.
James hovers beside her, watching as she extends the old thing forward. He jolts when she lets out a small, gleeful squeal as she watches in awe as the book hovers before floating and tucking itself back in its place.
She turns to him and beams. “I think that’s my favorite thing about this place.”
And the wonderment and excitement. The pure joy radiating from her. He marvels at it. It’s raw and honest and entirely enchanting. He thinks he’d be the luckiest sod alive to be able to see the world through her eyes in this way.
Lily continues on with grabbing the books and letting them be charmed away. Eventually, James’ body catches up with the rest of him and he assists her. The pair fall into an easy rhythm and soon enough, there’s one book left.
“Pride and Prejudice?” He asks, holding up the simple forest-green book embossed with gold lettering.
She lets out a noise between a squeak and a yelp before grabbing it from his outstretched hand. “That one’s mine.” She says quickly, cheeks flooding with color as she presses it protectively to her chest.
James grins down at her like he’s just won the Quidditch cup. James wasn’t lying earlier—Lily is fascinating and he wants to know more about her. Lucky for him, an opportunity seems to have just fallen into his lap.
“I’ve never heard of it. Muggle book?” He asks, moving to sling her bag over his shoulder despite her protests.
She sighs exasperatedly—and appreciatively—at the gesture. “Yes, it’s… it’s a favorite of mine.” Lily admits bashfully, fingers tracing over the worn cover. The pages are frayed and yellowing, the spine creased with use.
“Well, I reckon we should drop off your things and grab your cloak before we set off.” James says, beginning to step from the row of shelves. “How about you tell me about it on the way to Gryffindor Tower?” He offers, glancing at her over his shoulder with a grin.
“I don’t think you’d be much interested. It’s a romance.” She responds falling into step beside him, cheeks pink under the candlelight.
“And I don’t strike you as someone who reads romances?” He teases.
Lily just flushes deeper.
“You’re right, Evans,” he lets up, “but you said it’s your favorite, yeah?” She nods. “So, I wanna know more about it. If you love it, it must be good.” James tells her both earnestly and definitively.
Lily ignores the silly little flutter in her chest at his words, curling her fists as to stop herself from hiding a smile behind her hands. Instead, she does just as he asks.
“It’s about Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. She’s the daughter of…”
The walk to her dorm goes on much like this. With Lily explaining the intricacies of the plot and themes throughout the novel. It’s the most enthusiastic and animated James has seen her since she arrived. She’s rambling in a completely adorable way but yet still sounds so composed, so brilliant.
James, for his part, finds himself genuinely invested. Maybe it’s because of the way she speaks or maybe it’s because it’s her but he can’t help asking his own questions every so often. Simple things like, “what are the names of Elizabeth’s sisters again?” to “Darcy proposed how many times?” He thinks of more complex questions too, one particularly ignites a fire in Lily’s emerald eyes when he asks, “if Darcy loves Elizabeth so much, why couldn’t he just say it?"
This has Lily in upheaval. Spiraling and spluttering and then tripping across the flagstone before launching into a passionate explanation. “Because he needed to grow! To become the man he knew she deserved! Because he feels so much for her he doesn’t even know what he’s doing half the time!”
And James considers her words for a moment, before he realizes this all sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps him and this Darcy bloke had more in common than he thought.
Just as Lily wraps up reciting Darcy’s final monologue, they reach the steps to the girls’ dormitories.
“… how ardently I admire and love you.”
She finishes, chest heaving and cheeks pink. Before James can so much as respond, she bounds up the steps quickly, appearing a moment later, sans book and cloak tossed over her shoulders.
James asks a few more questions about the novel as he leads Lily out the portrait hole but the conversation soon dwindles as their attentions are focused elsewhere. With his chest puffed, a large grin across his lips, James begins what he so confidently has claimed is the real tour of Hogwarts.
He leads her through the labyrinth of corridors and up and down winding staircases, pointing out hidden treasures only a troublemaker of his caliber would know about.
On the third floor, he shows her Barnabas the Barmy, lighting up as she giggles at the twirling trolls. He leads her to the woven tapestry of unicorns—that while is shimmering with beauty—cleverly hides a staircase. He brings her down to near the kitchens, encouraging her to tickle the bright green pear painted onto one of the portraits. She squeals in delight when it swings open the doorway to bustling house elves.
At one point, he even drags her into a potions storage closet when he makes out the yellow slits of Mrs. Norris’ eyes at the edge of the corridor. With her hand firmly in his and squashed together in the small space, he shushed her amused questions half-heartedly as they successfully evaded the old cat.
Lily smiled through it all—even when his jokes are awful and he shows her the most ridiculous things imaginable. She asks insightful questions, with a certain depth of curiosity James can’t help but marvel at. It makes him wish he could better answer her. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, her laughter remains light and her joy is infectious.
It makes him feel like he’s on the precipice of something greater than himself. It sends a rush through his veins that rivals the excitement of avoiding Filch or discovering a hidden passage.
For his grand finale, James leads Lily down a strip of open archways and to a small secluded balcony that overlooks Black Lake and the distant rolling mountains. The air grows colder as he leads her into the open but neither notice, too focused on the serenity before them.
Their shoulders are brushing as she grips the stone railing, leaning forward as much as she can to better take it all in. Her eyes flicker with wonder and lips part in awe at the sight.
James has come on more than one occasion to this balcony. A small place of refuge and sanctuary. Somewhere he can just sit and think, to dream or to just lose himself for a while. It brings him a sense of calm like nothing else.
It hits him then: he’s never brought anyone here. Never even told anyone about it. Not Sirius, not Remus, not Peter.
No one.
He led her here without thought or questions. His subconscious clearly decides Lily deserves the small slice of solace. He finds now that his thoughts have caught up with him, he doesn’t mind sharing it with her.
“It’s beautiful.” Lily breathes in wonderment.
And it is. The night air is chilly but the breeze carries the scent of the forest. All that can be heard is the wind rustling the trees. Leaves of golden-browns, burnt oranges and vibrant reds swirl and dance under the light of the moon. Its white glow bounces off the dark lake, making it look like long inky silk ribbons, rippling under the night sky. Behind it all, are rolling hills, vast and endless.
But it’s the stars—the stars that are smattered across the sky twinkling proudly and brightly over the landscape. Like cut diamonds and rare gems glittering just for the two of them.
“It is.” James agrees, though he’s not looking at starry night. Her beauty puts it to shame.
He doesn’t think he’d be able to look away from her, even if he tried.
“I’ve never seen so many.” Lily murmurs, completely oblivious to his gaze as she stares upward. She turns when he says nothing, just to find his brow slightly scrunched. “Stars, I mean.”
“Really?” He asks softly, tone free of judgment but full of curiosity. He wishes to know everything about her.
“There was a factory near where I lived—the air was horrible. Only on very clear summer nights could you just barely make out a few stars.”
He leans down and crosses his arms over the railing beside her, elbow knocking into hers as he looks at the wide expanse above them.
“Stars are a bit of a big deal in the wizarding world.” He begins. “Some people believe that the first magical being was born from the night sky—spawned from the heavens and blessed by the Seven Sisters.”
“The Seven Sisters?” Lily asks, turning to face him fully.
He nods. “The Pleiades. The daughters of Titans and nymphs. Orion—the hunter—pursued them relentlessly. It’s said that they were turned into stars by the gods. But Orion was immortalized too, sealing their fate again. Orion was bound to follow them forever and now they’re trapped in an eternal chase.” James says, gesturing to the cluster of seven off to his right.
“That’s quite sad.” Lily whispers, gaze drifting to stars.
James shrugs, “maybe so, but they have each other. That’s what matters, I think.”
Briefly, Lily thinks of her own sister, the one who left her behind to deal with the demons of her past that race to catch up with her.
Unlike the Seven Sisters, she runs alone.
She finds though, that out here on this balcony, hidden from the world at James’ side—they cannot reach her. She can be still. She feels safe.
“What does it have to do with Magic?” Lily asks.
“The sisters—it’s said that their tears are what mortals perceive as rain. That their cries of anguish is what falls from the sky on dark nights. Some believe that their tears have magical properties—something descending from the heavens and onto a mortal plane is a rare and powerful thing. That their tears alone blessed the first wizard with magic. That he was saved by their grief and sadness.“
“How so?” She can’t fathom something as beautiful as magic to be born from grief, though it is ironic.
“There are different stories.” He admits. People believe different things, but my mother used to tell me that there was a man who was—like the sisters—being hunted by some great evil. Only when he was about to be caught did it begin to pour and as the water washed over him he suddenly could do things no mortal could do. Things that only those born in the heavens could do.”
“Magic.” Lily states.
“Magic.” James nods. “The sisters did not wish for anyone, man or mortal, to suffer as they had.”
Lily leans forward, propping her chin in her hands and elbows on the stone edge as she peers up at the night sky.
“I’ve never heard that before.” She sounds wistful, touched even.
James’ cheeks heat under the chilly air as he cards a hand through his hair nervously. “‘S nothing, really. I think most kids brought up in this world know all the constellations before they even get to Hogwarts.” He shrugs.
“Sirius.” Lily says then, it catches him off guard as she turns to him. “I don’t know nearly as much as you but I know Sirius—the dog.”
He nods, understanding what she means. “It’s quite common, especially for original Pureblood families. All the Black’s are named for stars and constellations—Sirius, of course, his father Orion, his grandmother, Cassiopeia.”
He hears her soft hum as she turns her attention back to the heavens, emerald eyes glittering as she takes it all in. The wind picks up, ever so slightly and he sees her shiver—even beneath her cloak—and he’s about to suggest they go inside, when she speaks again.
“Which is your favorite?” She whispers, like it’s something private and personal. Like she means to ask something else but can’t find the words.
He considers it for a moment—it’s not something he’s ever given any thought to. But then he looks at her. At her doe-like eyes, the way they shine under the moon and stars, the way her hair dances like a flickering flame as it tousles under the whistle of the wind.
And then he just knows .
“Auriga.” He blurts out, the word spilling from his lips before he even realizes.
She looks over, silently imploring him to go on.
“You can see it, just beyond those hills. It’s tip above that tree line.” He says, scanning the skies and pointing to the horizon.
“There?” Lily asks, finger pointing a little too far left to be entirely accurate.
Carefully, he stands tall and comes behind her, his chest brushing against her back. One hand steadying her waist as the other dances down her forearm until her hand is grasped in his own. He curls his fingers around her much smaller hand, guiding it to the proper spot.
“There.” He corrects, leaning down as he speaks. Breath skittering above her ear.
Smoothly, he maneuvers where she points, silently guiding her as he outlines the constellation and draws invisible lines with her finger.
“There’s its highest point,” he guides her diagonally, “Capella,” he tells her. Another line. “Hassaleh.” He swoops their hands around. “All the way to Mahasim.”
Together they trace the night sky and she swears that the stars only get brighter as he speaks.
A silence falls over them when he finishes and James thinks even the heavens hold their breath as it watches the two of them. He suddenly realizes how close he is. His hand warm and strong around her own, her back molding into his chest. Her hair tickling his lips.
He moves to pull away—apologize—but as soon as he shifts she curls her pointer fingers and weaves it through his knuckles, wrapping it around his middle finger. She tugs on it ever so slightly, sending a silent message.
Stay, it says.
“What does it mean?” Her voice is hoarse and throaty. She turns to face him as she speaks but doesn’t dare let him go.
His nose skims the crown of her head at the movement. The scent of lavender and lemons and ink fills his brain, making him a little dizzy. His hand is still in hers as his other arm falls from her side, reaching out to grip the balcony as he cages her in.
“It’s the line point between the Earth and the Moon.” He says.
She scrunches her brow, her eyes dance under his gaze.
“What does it mean?” She repeats, leaning closer.
He hears what she’s asking and he swallows roughly against the tightness in his throat. Fights against the hammering of his heart. Trouble—he thinks fondly. Absolute Trouble.
“It’s the point where the heavens and the earth are said to meet. It’s said to represent fate.”
Lily’s brow furrows, reminded of his constant assurances that Divination was something for fools. She’s honestly a bit surprised she can remember anything right now, though. Not when his hand is wrapped around hers and she can feel his chest move with each stuttering breath.
It makes her feel warm and safe and something else she can’t name.
She’s reminded again of their interaction in the corridor, just hours ago. When he asked her where home was and she was left with nothing but a lie past her lips.
It wouldn’t make any sense to say this feels a bit like coming home—right?
She shakes away the thoughts, which is decidedly easier than normal, given her mind is scrambled and burning with his touch.
“I thought you didn’t believe in fate.” Though her tone isn’t accusatory. It’s as soft as the silk ribbon in her hair.
He licks his lips. “I didn’t.”
Not until I met you.
His gaze is heavy and pressing as it burns into her. Golden-brown honey seeping into her bones and warming her against the night air. Her chest is constricted by the pounding of her heart and the weight of words left unspoken. Lily turns back to the night, putting some distance between them because these feelings she’s having—the ones she does not understand—are unsustainable, because fate isn’t real.
Fate cannot be real, because if it is, fate is cruel and it takes and it takes from Lily until she has nothing left to be stolen from her.
And she will not let James be tangled up in such things.
But another part of her can't help herself. She thinks she could duck and hide and run and he would always find her. So unlike Orion and the Seven Sisters he spoke of. She knows their chase would not be eternal, it would be over before it begins.
Tangled webs weaved together. Strings tied and threaded by hands greater than what they can conceptualize.
“I’m meant to be a witch now,” she starts. James’ face falls ever so slightly at the implications she does not think herself a witch. “And if the stars are so important to Magic, perhaps you can teach more about them and then I’ll be able to pick a favorite, too.”
And maybe it’s because she’s always been weak or maybe it’s those invisible hands nudging her forward, but she can’t help herself.
She’s rewarded with a smile that splinters his face. “Of course.” And it’s a promise—and he hopes it conveys all he cannot speak.
Of the fact that he would stand on this balcony and point to every single star in the sky, until there are none left. That he would fall to his knees and beg the heavens above to create new ones just so he can share them with her.
“I will, love.” He swears. “But not tonight. You’ll freeze if we stay out here any longer.” He says, squeezing her trembling hand. “And it’s getting late.”
Her hand disentangles from his own and he feels the loss instantly, but her eyes are hopeful and she’s clearly heard his promise and suddenly some of the warmth has returned.
He leads her back down the corridor, his hands stuffed in his pockets and her own hands fisted in the folds of her cloak.
“Thank you, James,” she says softly, voice carrying a quiet gratitude.
He looks over one eyebrow raised as to say, what for?
“I can say I learned a lot.” About Hogwarts. The stars. Him. “Though I’m not sure how often I’ll need to know the best spots to hide from Filch are.” She teases as to lighten the mood as they begin walking back to Gryffindor Tower.
“You never know, Evans. If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a hundred times, you look like Trouble.” He jokes with a grin, a stark contrast to the complexities of their earlier shared moment, but the warmth remains just the same.
She giggles softly as they turn a corner, the sound breaking any remaining tension. Her laugh is soon cut off and replaced by a sharp gasp as she collides with a dark figure. Instinctively, James’ hand finds the base of her spine, steadying her as she stumbles back.
“Sorry.” She squeaks quietly, eyes downcast in embarrassment.
If she dared to look up, she would’ve seen one of two things: the hateful sneer across Severus Snape’s face. Long pointed nose framed by dark eyes. Or, she’d see the deep scowl set on James’ lips. A storm behind his hazel eyes.
“Evans.” Snape drawls, voice dripping with disdain. “And Potter.” He finishes, eyes drifting from Lily to James—almost as an afterthought.
“Snape.” James spat, tightening his grip ever so slightly on Lily, trying to gently maneuver her around the Slytherin.
“Out and about so late, are we?” He says next, one eyebrow raised.
James’ temper flares. His jaw clenches. “Last time I checked it’s well before curfew and you’re the one outside of your dungeon.”
“Hm.” Snape tuts, disinterested in what Potter has to say. His mouth suddenly curls into a steely smirk. It’s enough to send a shiver up Lily’s spine. “Maybe I should tell Dumbledore that the Head Boy has begun making exceptions for his friends.”
And James knows what Snape’s trying to do. It’s been his play the past seven bloody years. Say or do anything to get under James’ skin. And it works, every time.
Don’t hex him. Don’t hex him. Don’t—
He fights the urge, curling his hand into a fist to keep from grabbing his wand. His other hand clenches against Lily’s back—not painfully—but enough to let it steady him. Her presence anchors him.
He speaks through heavy breaths. “You can’t say shite about Remus to Dumbledore and you know it.” James all but growled.
One of Snape’s eyebrows twitches everso slightly and James knows he’s won this round.
He softens his tone. “Come on Lily,” He says, calming just a bit. “Wouldn’t want you to be out past curfew.” He finishes bitterly and fully directed at Snape.
Lily, who has otherwise been quiet, glances briefly at Snape, ignoring both the rush of coldness and odd sense of familiarity as they make eye contact. She flinches under his cold stare and begins letting both James’ guiding hand and her feet carry her away
“Careful who you spend your time with, Evans.” Snape calls from behind her. Cold. Calculated.
It feels like a warning.
Lily hates this. Hates that it feels like Snape has taken something from her. A lovely night—the first in god knows how long—and ripped it away with his sour mood. The strangest thing too, is that for whatever reason, this doesn’t feel like the first time he’s done it to her either.
“Ignore him.” James grits out, hand tightening against her.
Despite the evident frustration in his tone. He still grounds her.
Safe—she is safe.
Once they’ve turned the corner to a now Snape free corridor, he releases his grip on Lily’s back and drops his hand to his side. Soon enough he instinctively redirects his fingers to comb through his hair as he lets out a tense breath.
“You lot really don’t like each other, do you?” She asks quietly, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to fill the loss of his touch.
“No, we really don’t.” He responds with a dark humorless chuckle. “But I am sorry you had to be in the middle of it—again.” He stopped walking then, turning to face her fully.
Lily waves a hand lazily as if to say no worries and brush off his apology.
But James wasn’t convinced as guilt began to gnaw at him.
“Look, Lily, the last thing I want to tell you is what to do or who to talk to but just promise me you’ll be careful around him, alright?” His words are earnest but there’s an obvious edge to his voice. Hardened and riddled with anxiety.
Lily visibly startles at the shift, stopping to fully face him, to look into his golden-brown eyes only to find them shining in fear.
She averts her gaze from his own; it suddenly feels too heavy. Too tense. Instead, she focuses on ringing her suddenly too still hands together.
“Has something happened?” She asks hoarsely and hurriedly. “Has he said or done something? Is he going to do something to me or—”
“No, no, no.” James is quick to soothe. This time, unlike in the corridor on Saturday, when he reaches out his hands to lay on her shoulders he doesn’t hesitate.
Perhaps their shared moment on the balcony gave him the courage or just the primal urge to protect her. But, she doesn’t pull away either. Almost instantly, she’s melting under his strong yet gentle grasp as he cups the tops of her shoulders, his fingers idly rubbing small circles against her collar bone.
“He’s just—he’s always gotten under my skin.” James admits. “But a few years ago he did something to Remus—and I’m sorry because I can’t say much more but it could’ve ruined his entire life and Snape didn’t seem to care at all.”
“And you’re worried he would do something like that to me ?” Her voice is small and trembling ever so slightly.
He feels his anger begin to bubble and fester deep within him at the idea of Snape using Lily to get to him.
But then he feels the soft rise of Lily’s shoulder with a shuddering breath. He sees her green eyes glinting up at him, apologetic, sincere and so lovely.
It grounds him.
With a deep breath, he calms considerably. Deciding to neither confirm or deny her fears. Both for her sake and because of his own cowardice—how can he stand here and tell her that she’s broken him down in less than a week?
“I just don’t want to chance something like that happening to you, love. Ever.”
And yeah—Lily’s not a werewolf. She’s not at risk of getting that kind of secret exposed but Lily is a bit of an anomaly. Something he knows bigoted twats like Snape and his housemates thrive off of.
A Muggle-born witch in this day and age was already a target. A Muggle-born witch who didn’t know she had magic for seventeen years? She may as well walk around with a large bullseye on her back.
He wishes he could say more to explain where his anxiety is stemming from but he wouldn’t expose Remus like that nor can he find it within himself to explain to Lily why people wouldn’t think she belongs. The thought of both makes his chest ache something awful.
“You deserve the best experience while you have it, alright?” He gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze and it manages to coax a small smile on her pretty lips.
Slowly she begins to nod slowly, pulling her lip in between her teeth in either nerves or thought—James can’t quite place it. Not for the first time though, he finds himself fighting the urge to smooth it down with his thumb. Instead, he pulls his hands off her shoulders to run through his hair before he does something stupid like actually run his finger over her lips.
He’s a fucking tosser these days.
“Okay, I’ll be careful.” She agrees, looking at him through hooded lashes, green eyes sparkling under the moonlight flicking in from the windows.
There's a hint of hesitancy in her tone. Her shoulders curl ever so slightly, in that way where she’s trying to sink into herself and hide.
Panic begins to swell in James’ chest. “I’m not trying to control you or your choices or even—”
Lily shakes her head, successfully cutting off his nervous ramblings. “I don’t think that.” She promises, voice steady. The hesitancy stemming from the unexplained familiarity around Snape and nothing James has done. “I know you’re worried and I appreciate it. I think.” A small grin tugs at her lips for reasons unknown to him.
“You think?” He repeats, not for the first time intrigued to know what’s going on in that brilliant mind of hers.
She nods, almost shyly as her cheeks flush in front of his eyes. “I think it’s sweet,” she admits, “but you could stand to do it less. You’ve got—”
Lily’s words falter as she reaches out a shaking hand toward him. He holds his breath in anticipation, feels the world still as her nimble fingers—soft and scorching—touch his brow. She uses her thumb then, smoothing out the wrinkles from the brow he previously furrowed in worry for her.
She runs her thumb gently over it. Once. Twice.
It feels like she’s fanning flames.
Her touch is gone just as soon as it comes but the feeling lingers. Small pin pricks dancing along his skin.
“You’ll get wrinkles.” She teases. Though she clenches her hands into fists as if scolding herself for touching him.
James doesn’t even notice. He feels dazed—drunk, even. Between this and the way she allowed him to wrap around her on the balcony, he must be the luckiest son of a bitch at Hogwarts.
When he continues just staring at her like she isn’t real and it’s impossible a mere brush of her skin on him could make him feel like this, she just flushes harder, suddenly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she begins, head down, eyes hidden. He couldn’t have that. “I was just trying to lighten the mood, I shouldn’t—”
“You don’t want my pretty face to be ruined so early, eh, Evans?” He responds, voice light.
Look up. Look up. Look up.
He nearly sags in relief as her fists uncurl and her eyes find his again.
He grins—because what else is there to do?
“That’s why we’ve got glamour charms, love.” He winks.
Lily giggles, hoping the sound will drown out the hammering of her heart at the endearment. The sound floats down the corridor and into the night air.
Not for the first time since being around James, everything feels all consuming. But it’s not like the guilt and sadness that eats at her day after day. It’s something she wants to be absolutely devoured by, like him—this boy—is her only way out. The only way left to go.
It’s been there since she first saw him. It swelled only moments ago as he taught her about the stars.
It’s unfamiliar. It’s too much—Unsustainable. Unfathomable. Nonsensical.
She’s known James all of three days. It’s impractical.
She remembers once, when Petunia grew out of her favorite dress. It was a gauzy, lavender sundress, with small white polka dots on it. She remembers Petunia, though younger, was reluctant to do Lily any favors, holding out the garment and telling Lily she could have it.
And Lily was so happy that daisies began blooming from her little palms.
She remembers Petunia’s harsh gasp followed by her shrieks. She remembers wailing in confusion, on how something that felt so right to Lily, could be so scary to someone else.
She remembers falling onto her knobby knees, tears streaking her red cheeks and begging Petunia not to tell their parents. Begging Petunia to please help her.
“People are always looking for a way to be saved,” Petunia had responded, nose upturned, sneer on her lips, “the only person who can save you, is yourself.” She had said, before slamming Lily’s door, lavender dress rumpled in her fists.
And though it was harsh then and it still stings now, Lily considers it. James has shown her kindness when he had nothing to gain. Perhaps through all Lily’s sadness and loneliness he had become a beacon of light but he wasn’t her savior. He couldn’t be. That job was hers to bear alone.
That’s the reasonable answer—though something nags at the back of her brain. Reminders of Minerva’s and Dumbledore’s care throughout the past few months. Though tender, it felt immeasurable next to what James has made her feel in a matter of days.
She thinks of the soft breeze and glittering stars. Of Auriga—fate—he called it.
That means something, right? Her traitorous thoughts argue. Ones of a girl who used to believe in things like pretty poems and knights and princesses.
No—she reasoned. The young woman she is now affirms. The one who knows the world isn’t a fairytale and life isn’t fair.
“Let’s get you back, Trouble.” His voice, silky and calming against the maelstrom in her head. “Detention on your first day is a bad look. Trust me, I would know.” He laughs.
And the sound, it seems to melt away all of her doubt as she falls into step beside him.
“Tell me about it?” She asks, voice small and hopeful.
He smiles at her and he makes it look easy.
And so he did, the whole way to the portrait hole, he regales her with stories of his younger self. Of a first-year James Potter who thought it would be clever to put stones in his housemates shoes—his very first day at Hogwarts, no less.
She smiles when he says goodnight. She smiles right back, without even thinking. She finds herself smiling all the way up to her four poster bed, too. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until she’s in front of the mirror, dressed in her pajamas and brushing her teeth before settling down for the night.
She supposes he makes smiling easier for her, too.
James steps into the dormitory feeling as though he’s been simultaneously hit with weightless charm and downed an entire glass of firewhiskey. He can still feel the spot between his eyes tingling, right where Lily’s fingers laid. He can still feel her warmth—buzzing and electric—pressed against him. Her touch, gentle and fleeting, it lingers beneath him, etched into his soul and as clear as the constellations they mapped out in the night sky as he held her.
It makes him feel dizzy—completely undone, though, he has no desire to shake this feeling.
He walks into his room, dopey look on his face, only to be hit by a heady dose of reality by the sight of his roommates.
And bless them—really—he loves them, but they’re way too intrusive and he wants this to be kept to himself. Wants to chase this euphoria a bit longer.
Sirius, who already knows too much, is the first to notice him. He looks up from where he’s lounging on his bed, grinning like the cat in the coal mine. Wait— or is it cardinal in the coal mine? Canary? Whatever. He’s grinning in the way that always means troubles ahead and makes Remus mutter the muggle expression.
“Lads.” James greets with a smile, hoping he’s managed to reel it in a little bit and looks considerably less dazed than he feels.
Remus—who’s still dressed in his uniform—looks toward James first, an easy smile gracing his lips, a stark contrast from the sharp looks he’d worn earlier.
“Prongs,” he nods, “Baddock keeping you busy again?” He teases, reaching for his cloak as he speaks.
The words barely register. James is still halfway in the corridor beside Lily, her laugh echoing faintly in his ears.
“Hm? What?” His brows knit together in confusion.
Remus looks at him as if he’s sprouted an extra head. Sirius is just barely containing a chuckle from behind his magazine.
“Theo Baddock,” Remus emphasizes each syllable slowly, as if talking to a child. “Little bloke you swear will be the next best Chaser once you leave. Ring any bells?” There’s a teasing edge to his tone, but the confusion is evident in his narrowed eyes.
Oh, right—Quidditch, yeah—that’s where Remus thinks he was.
He clears his throat, a hand flying to his hair anxiously as he does. “Right, yes—sorry. Little bugger knocked me off my broom. I'm all out of sorts.” He lies smoothly.
Sirius laughs from his bed, as if saying: sure, that’s why you’re out of sorts.
James sends him a subtle glare and in return the grey-eyed boy does his best to conceal the sound with a half-hearted cough.
Thankfully, the room pays him no mind. Instead, James shifts his focus to Remus, who’s pulling on his cloak. “You’re on rounds tonight, Moony?” James asks as a means to shift the conversation.
“Yeah,” he answers, fastening the clasp, “one of the Slytherin prefects says she’s too sick to patrol. Think that’s true?”
A laugh rings from the other side of the room, “definitely not.” Peter pipes up.
James blinks, having just noticed the blonde's presence. Peter had been otherwise unassuming lately, nose always buried in his comic books. Speaking of…
“Hey, Pete, I’ve been meaning to ask where you keep getting your comics from?” James asks suddenly.
Peter—like James and Sirius—comes from a pureblood family. He lives in a small wizarding village just outside London. While both Peter and his parents support Muggle-borns and Muggles, James knows from firsthand experience that when you’re born into a magical community it’s a bit tricky for a wizard to blend in elsewhere. Even to do something as unassuming and simple as comic book shopping. And if that fact alone wasn’t enough proof to James that Peter had someone getting them for him, it was also the notion that a new comic book seemed to materialize into his hand each week without a singular trip to the owlery.
Peter drops the glossy pages and lights up with enthusiasm. “You know Aaron Johnson? The sixth-year bloke in Ravenclaw?” James nods. “His parents are Muggles, they run a bookshop not too far from here. He gets loads of books from them and I just throw him a galleon and he’ll write to send the ones I want.” He explains excitedly. “Why are you interested? If you want a comic, Kraven’s Last Hunt is really—”
He feels his pulse quicken. He hesitates under the waiting gaze of Peter’s watery eyes. “Er—What about Pride and Prejudice? Jane Austen?” James finally asks before losing his nerve.
Peter furrows his brow in confusion. Beside him, Sirius throws his head back and laughs.
Canary—that was it.
“And pray tell, Prongs, why are you fishing for romances?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow and knowing smile.
He can feel his cheeks heating by their own volition.
“You know Jane Austen, Padfoot?” Remus asks half-amused, half-incredulous.
Sirius just rolls his eyes. “What, you think I was just born romantic?” He quips.
“You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.” James interjects before he can help it.
“That’s not true!” He protests indignantly. “Right, Moony?”
Remus flushes ever so slightly, “you haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.” He repeats flatly, though there’s a trace of a smile there. “But I am curious James—where did you hear about Jane Austen?”
All eyes find him and maybe James is paranoid but their gazes feel almost knowing—pressing.
“Oh,” he almost flinches, “Muggle Studies thing—came up in class. You know my Mum, she loves her romances and her birthday’s coming up and I just thought…” he trails, hoping it’s believable enough.
There’s a brief silence and James can practically feel the sweat building under his jumper.
Finally, Peter breaks the silence. “Alright,” he says with a nod, “just write it down and I’ll ask Aaron tomorrow. I’m due for a new comic, anyway.”
Relief floods James so quickly he nearly sags. “Thanks, mate. I’ll cover yours, too.”
Peter looks as if he’s about to protest but thinks better of it, they all know James has got more money then he knows what to do with and is often adamant about spreading the wealth. Literally.
“Well,” Remus breaks the silence, pinning the badge to his robes. “I’m off to patrol, you coming, Wormy?”
Peter jumps up, “yep! Better get my pudding before curfew.” He explains to James and Sirius over his shoulder.
“Wait, Peter—” James starts, causing him to turn. “Throw that comic on my bed, won’t you? The hunting one? I’ll give it a peak.” He tells his friend, who was so thrilled at the idea of sharing it with James earlier, he thought to give it a try.
Peter smiles brightly, rummaging through the box next to his bed before handing it to James.
The pair start toward the door, “Gents, see you later.” Remus nods with a salute, Peter waving to them, too.
Both James and Sirius throw their goodbyes before the door shuts. And as soon as it clicks, Sirius’ magazine is tossed aside as he perches himself on the edge of his bed.
“Okay, out with it Prongs, why’d you lie?” Sirius asks, wasting no time with any preamble.
“What do you mean?” James asks, though Sirius sees right through him—as always.
“Well for one, your Mum’s birthday is in June.” Sirius points out smugly.
James stamps down the urge to groan and instead tries for a casual shrug. “I meant Christmas, then.” He supplies weakly.
“Two—” Sirius starts, wagging his pointer and index fingers in the air. “I sit next to you in Muggle Studies, you berk. All we’ve talked about is electricity.” He finishes, a pleased smile on his face as James visibly blanches.
James curses himself for the stupid oversight on his part. In fairness, it’s not all his fault—not really. His brain is still on that balcony with fingers wrapped around hers and eyes glittering under the stars. It was maddeningly distracting, that unique ability she seems to have. The one where she can scramble his brain into absolute bits. He finds he doesn’t mind though.
Sirius’ smugness. Remus’ suspicions. Snape’s coldness.
Not even they could take it from him.
The silence stretches between them and Sirius—never one for missing a beat—presses on. “Evans has been here, what? Three days? And she’s already got you reading romances.”
“It’s not like that.” James all but growls before sitting on the edge of his mattress.
Sirius places his hands in front of him, practically leaning off his own bed with keen interest. “What’s it like then?” Though the dark haired boy still has that look on his face, his tone is something softer. Genuine, even.
James takes a breath, both to steady himself and to try and collect his thoughts.
What is it like?
He can’t very well tell Sirius everything—not the dizzying pull, not the way her laugh seemed to make the air around her crackle or how the simple brush of her fingers had left him feeling untethered to his body. He couldn’t explain that standing under the stars with her beside him, it felt infinite. Like Lily was thrust into this life, at this exact moment to fulfill some greater destiny that intertwined with his. That’s just barmy— right?
So, instead, he’ll settle with what he does know. What he can admit to himself and now Sirius, too.
“It’s just—Lily—she’s new to all of this. To Hogwarts, to Magic, to the people. Can you imagine how overwhelming it all must be for anyone? Never mind that she’s the only Muggle-born seventh-year Gryffindor, too. I mean, it’s not like people ‘round really care, not like the Slytherin’s anyway.” He sneers, before taking another stuttering breath. “I heard Delilah telling Anastasia that they haven’t even spoken to her yet and don’t really care to try. That she keeps to herself. I mean, have you got the impression that Lily’s, I dunno—sad? Lonely?”
“I clearly do not spend half the time you seem to in Lily’s business,” he begins lightly, before his face drops into something stoic. “But, yeah, I noticed how she reacted when she heard my last name the day Remus introduced us. It was like she expected me to be awful to her. Like she thought she was less than me.” He admits in a whisper, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.
James’ jaw tightens. He nods slowly before continuing. “I mean, she’s so quiet most of the time. It’s like she’s trying to hide but, Sirius,” his grey-eyes bore into James’, who is now smiling to himself. Something secret. “She positively lit up when I asked her about the book. It was almost like she was someone else.” He pauses then, because that’s not true, she wasn’t someone else. “It’s almost like she was really herself and it was—”
He stops abruptly and bites his lip in thought. No words seem adamant to describe her on that too short walk to the tower.
She was radiant. Incandescent. All encompassing—purely, Lily.
It wasn’t the sadness or loneliness that drew him in. No obligations or sense of pity, just purely her. The real her. The one she has tried to hide but becomes poorly concealed with each passing interaction.
“I just thought maybe having someone else to talk to about something she’s familiar with might make her feel better.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing.
But it’s not.
And Sirius seems to figure it out because the soft smile that was on his face is soon washed away as the realization dawns on him. Sirius begins grinning, teeth bared and practically vibrating with excitement and James knows he’s said too much.
“You like her!” Sirius practically squeals. It’s not in an ‘I told you so,’ kind of way—he almost seems giddy. “Good and proper like her.” He reiterates. “Flowers and romance like her!”
“I’ve known her, what? Three days? ” He reiterates, throwing Sirius’ words back at him.
His best friend remains unfazed, continuing to bounce above his sheets with joy. “Oh my little Prongs !” He cries, rising from his bed to pinch James’ pink cheeks. “I never thought I’d see the day!”
James knocks his hands from his face and rolls his eyes. “Knock it off, it’s not like that.”
He’s barely convinced of the claim himself.
“I just…” he pauses, averting his eyes to the carpet. “I think she needs someone to see her for who she is. Not what people think she’s supposed to be. So, I just want to be there for her, in any way that helps. And right now, I think she needs a friend more than anything else.”
He suddenly feels bare. Vulnerable, even. It’s the most honest he’s been with himself since meeting Lily. It was the truth. Perhaps not the entire truth—because that, he is yet to understand—but this he does know.
A warm pat on his shoulder forces him to raise his eyes from the ground. “Prongs?” Sirius says, grey eyes soft, corners of his mouth smooth. “You’re a good bloke.”
James smiles back at his pseudo brother, appreciative for the assurances instead of what he thought would be the impending—you’re barmy, mate.
Sirius moves back to plop on his bed, still facing James. “And a real gentleman too. Evans won’t be able to resist you. ” He winks.
James groans—there it is.
He flops back against his pillows with a loud groan. “Shut up, Padfoot.” He mumbles, though his cheeks are pink and his lips are tugged upward.
“Oh, James! You’re so handsome and so sweet and so good at Quidditch!” Sirius starts, voice turned up several pitches in a poor imitation of Lily’s.
“Stop.” James protests, but his chest begins to shake with laughter.
“Oh, James,” he starts again, voice taking on a more sultry tone, “you’ve read my favorite book, how can I ever repay you?” He flutters his eyelashes for added effect.
“Alright, you’ve had your fun.” James says, rolling over to look at Sirius, who’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, way too pleased with himself.
“I have a few ideas, Trouble. ” Sirius mocks, dropping his voice several octaves now, fingers pressed in circles around his eyes in what James thinks are supposed to be his glasses.
Suddenly Sirius puckers his lips and begins making exaggerated kissing sounds, stopping occasionally to let out a poor imitation of a female giggle.
James rolls over and grabs one of his pillows, throwing it at Sirius without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
And when he hears the soft thump and the ceasing of the imaginary make out, James smiles to himself. Despite skeeving off a few hours of Quidditch today, it’s nice to know he’s still got his touch.
Moments later, James feels the pillow return, weakly hitting his back before knocking onto the carpet. With a sigh, he rolls back over to face his friend.
“Your secret’s safe with me, mate, don’t worry.” Sirius promises.
“There’s no secret to keep.” James emphasizes stubbornly.
Sirius laughs, laying back against his pillows and swiping his magazine. “If that’s how you wanna play it.” He winks over the pages.
James rolls his eyes. For a brief moment, he considers divulging the interaction with Snape in the hall, to help sort out its implications, but he thinks better of it. The whole fifth-year incident was a sore subject for Remus and Sirius and James doesn’t want to reopen the old wounds. Not now, anyway, Snape’s already tried to take one good thing away from him tonight. He won’t allow him that satisfaction again.
Anyway, he’s pretty positive Sirius would manage to sneak in more questions and jokes about his feelings for Lily and James has had his fill of that too.
Instead, he rises, opening his drawer for his tartan pajama pants, slinging them over his shoulder and starting for the door to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
“Prongs?” Sirius breaks the silence just as James begins twisting the brass knob.
James sighs, turning to him, “yes?”
Sirius places his magazine down, stoic look on his face as he speaks. “My feelings will not be repressed.” He begins, “you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” He finishes with a shit-eating grin.
James furrows his brow, “I don’t understand.”
Sirius looks pleased with himself, “oh, don’t worry, you will. Now off you go.” He says shooing him away as he flicks to the next page of his magazine.
James shuts the door and lets out a breath as he makes his way to the loo.
He wisely made the decision not to share with Sirius; he knew exactly what he was quoting, having heard the words from Lily only an hour ago.
He liked them much better coming from her lips, anyway.
Once he’s changed and brushed his teeth he heads back to his room. A small rush of relief washes over him when he finds Sirius’ curtains drawn for the night, clearly having had his fun and granting James some peace.
James settles into bed, sinking into the comfort of his mattress, letting the thrill of the day and his heavy thoughts drift away as exhaustion creeps into his bones. Almost on instinct, his hand slips under his pillow and he pulls out the map. A routine he’s fallen into the past couple of days. But as his fingers graze his wand—the one he’s been using to discreetly check for Lily’s name each night—he pauses.
Not tonight, he decides.
Instead, he reaches into his bedside drawer, suddenly hoping the book that he’s neglected for months is still where he last remembers. His fingers find it a moment later and he’s suddenly glad he’s kept it so close the past several years as he pulls it into his lap.
The book is as worn as he remembers. The deep purple leather cover is creased and withering. The silver embossed stars are dull with age but no less beautiful than he remembers.
It had been a gift from his parents on the eve of his first ever departure to Hogwarts. Back when he was just eleven years old. Nothing but wide eyes, endless dreams and a boy who didn’t want to say goodbye.
“Whenever you miss us, just look at the stars.” His mother had told him that night, voice thick with emotion and eyes glistening .
“We are right there with you, son.” His father had promised.
His fingertips dance over the faded stars before they move to trace its title, The Celestial Atlas: Myths and Maps of Stars.
He hasn’t read it in years, but tonight it feels right.
James hopes to learn and relearn and learn it all again—every story, every star, every constellation. Just so, one day, he can share it all with Lily. The thought makes his heart do a little skip, causes a smile to creep onto his face.
Until Pride and Prejudice reaches him, he’ll read this with her in mind. Part of him hopes that perhaps under the same stars, Lily may be lying awake and thinking of him too.