promise rings
“And then I got this,” he pulled out a white button down shirt from the shopping bag at his feet.
Lily, legs crossed and head resting on her hand, assessed the shirt with scrutinising eyes before shaking her head, “I think that’s too formal, what do you think?” she asked, looking down at Harry.
Harry, back resting on a pillow shaped like a ladybug matched her expression, entirely unimpressed.
“Okay got it,” he huffed. “How’s this?” he asked, now showing them a red shirt that was much more casual, “The model in the store had this open with a white shirt underneath if that helps.”
This seemed to catch her interest a bit more and then she looked from the shirt back up to him and started laughing. He remained straight faced, which only seemed to make her laugh more, “What?” James snapped, dropping his hands down defeatedly and kicking the bag a bit.
“Nothing, it’s just…” she searched for the word, “cute.”
“What is?”
She sighed deeply, leaning back on her hands, “It’s just that you’ve never tried so hard to make friends before. It’s cute seeing you put in effort”
He deflated a bit, joining her on the bed though he was now face down into his soft and worn blue duvet, “I know,” he groaned.
She smacked him straight on the back as she stood, using him as leverage. He heard some shuffling, then he cracked a single eye open and watched as she pulled out a forest green shirt he had also bought, twin to the red one, “I think this one is nice, it’ll bring out your eyes.”
She smiled then left and suddenly, he felt a mass on his back and he just laid there as Harry began using his body as his own personal rock climbing wall. He let it continue until Harry reached his head—then promptly tumbled forward, face-planting into his forehead.
He had to get up and rock him till he stopped crying while he had no one to rub his own bruised forehead, how selfish of him.
__________
“What’s this for?” Regulus breathed as he stared into the small velvet box in his hands and the twin bands that rest within- one gold and one silver.
“Well, I know how much you care about the old ways so I wanted to do this right,” James hummed, grasping the box and pulling out the silver ring for him.
“Promise rings?” Regulus breathed knowingly.
They were up in the Astronomy Tower and the night was clear and warm. They had spent the past hour talking but James was too focused on the box in his pocket the entire time. He had been wanting to give these to Regulus for as long as he could remember but wanted to make sure the timing was right until he realised- the timing didn’t matter, only Regulus did.
He nodded and grasped Reg’s smooth hand, his hand pale and fingers thin as they slipped into his own, “James we can’t-.”
“By the blood of our ancestors, I offer this ring as a symbol of my vow. Bound by honour and the magic that courses through my veins, I pledge my loyalty, my protection, and my heart to you Regulus Arcturus Black. May this ring remind us of our bond, bound by legacy and sealed in promise.” he finished, repeating the words he had reread over a hundred times to make sure he got them right.
He slipped the ring onto his finger and it hummed and glowed around Regulus’ digit for a moment before the magic coating sunk into his skin, resting happily within him. Gooseflesh erupted over his skin at the sensation.
Regulus pretended he didn’t want the rings but the glittering in his eyes and the pale pink on his cheeks betrayed his joy.
Nervously, Regulus grasped the golden ring and flipped their hands. He repeated the vows more confidently than he had and the ring glowed similarly around his finger, warm and snug.
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Regulus murmured as he pulled him in close, pressing a bruising kiss onto his lips, his arms winding around his neck. “Even though the logistics of this don’t really-.”
He silenced him with another kiss before pulling back, holding his hands in his own, “Reg, I don’t care about the logistics, only you.”
He rubbed the cold band on his finger before turning away from the mirror. He couldn’t bear to take it off, feeling like he was betraying Regulus in some way if he did. He had made a promise, one he had intended to keep.
“Right well I’ll be back soon,” he called out to Lily who he found was watching something very intently on the tele. He never quite got around to ever using it, having never grown up around it, but it was one of the first purchases Lily made once they moved in, going on about the luxuries of being a muggle.
“I hope not,” she snorted, “Go make some bad decisions, be young for the both of us!” She laughed and he gave her a wave before stepping out into the corridor, shutting and locking the door behind him.
When he got to the main road, he took a bumpy taxi all the way to his destination before proceeding to pay the man probably more than what was asked of him. He still didn’t quite get Muggle money with all of the papers and coins and whatever change was. He missed the simple currency of knuts, sickles, and galleons.
The bar was in a much cooler area of town, a far cry from the suburban area they lived in. The streets buzzed with activity, lined with shops and restaurants, while the sidewalks brimmed with people of all ages. As the taxi driver pointed out that his destination was just ahead, he continued walking until he spotted a hanging metal sign protruding from a building: The Crescent Star.
When he entered after flashing his muggle identification to a gruff man out front, he had to walk down a set of stairs as a barrage of scents and sights slowly seeped into view. It was much warmer down here than it was outside and the thick darkness was broken up by ambient lighting in the form of lamps and fairy lights and lanterns burning all around. There were velvet sofas arranged in circles around low tables and a space for dancing that was currently sparsely occupied. Smooth music played in overhead speakers, instrumentals crescendoing and falling in a hypnotic rhythm.
The bar stretched along the far wall, long and elegant, with cherry wood counters that gleamed as if they'd just been polished. He saw Marc sitting at a stool there surrounded by a group of five other people and slowly made his way over.
He was saying something in rushed French and James slowly walked up to them, feeling suddenly awkward by intruding, but Marc noticed him quickly and stood up, “James!”
He turned, hand resting on his back, and began introducing him to each of them.
Clara was the first to be introduced. She was tall and lithe, her height further accentuated by a pair of pinpoint heels. Her chocolate-brown hair framed bright, kind brown eyes that sparkled as she greeted him, her handshake gentle and warm. Her uneven smile, with the right side lifting slightly higher than the left, gave her a perpetual, playful smirk.
Next was Alexandre, equally tall but with a stockier build. His soft blond hair curled around his ears, and his blue eyes lit up with a warmth that matched his easy smile. Beside him stood a girl who resembled him closely. While his nose was prominent, hers was delicate, and where his features were angular, hers were soft. He soon learned they were twins, and her name was Noelle.
Manon was the most striking of them all, with jet-black hair that framed her sharp green eyes, which assessed him with a cool intensity. Her high cheekbones and full lips gave her an almost unreal quality, the ambient light behind her casting her in stark, dramatic relief. Yet when she smiled, the hardness in her features seemed to melt away for a brief moment—only to return just as quickly, like a fleeting glimpse of softness.
The last was Louis, and James felt his heart stutter as they shook hands. Louis had sandy blond hair, almost brown, falling in messy waves across his forehead and cheeks. His eyes must have been brown, but in the low light, they gleamed as golden as the drink in his hand. He was at least a head taller than him and James thought he wouldn’t have looked so conspicuous if it wasn’t for the scar that slashed down his cheek, starting from above his right brow and dropping to just beside his mouth.
Louis must have thought he was staring at the scar but it was the likeness to Remus that had scared him so. From the height to the fringe to the soft and tentative smile that pulled on his lips.
Oh it hurt so deeply yet James stayed smiling, clasped his hand, and pushed his old memories back to the corner he liked to shove them in when he was out. He preferred to pore over them in private. He was grateful Regulus had taught him some Occlumency- he was no expert but in times like this, he could compartmentalise a bit.
They knew English though they customarily slipped into French sometimes so James was left hanging on the edge of the rope for a lot of conversations, being able to climb up it while they spoke before they slipped and so did he. Marc helped translate a lot in the interim which was nice and he allowed himself to get carried away in their merriment. He preferred that they didn’t try to change for him, letting him come in and out of the moment.
It was nice, getting to know new people again, being able to ask what they did for work and what cuisine they liked and what hobbies they had. He didn’t realise how much he had to cover up until the questions came up- What do you do for work? Or Do you have any siblings? Or I knew someone who grew up in the same city as you, maybe you know them? He scrambled, just denying everything.
“I think they like you,” Marc smiled over to him at some point as he asked for refills for both of their beers.
Despite his words, James couldn't shake the feeling that the opposite was true. As he mulled over what he said and everyone’s reactions, he realised he was overthinking it. He just shrugged as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry, I just-.”
He just waved a hand though, reassuring James that he was doing amazing and instead clasping his shoulder and said, “Come, let’s dance.” They left their drinks behind with Alexandre who had just come from the dance floor and was currently chatting up a short woman whose hair was split dyed, half black, the other half a bright shade of purple.
He let Marc lead him to the floor that had steadily filled up since his arrival as the hour hand on the grand clock installed into the bar wall ticked higher and higher, indicating the late hour.
The speakers pumped out some synthy upbeat song so loud that it rattled through his bones. He felt awkward at first, unsure of how to fit into the slot of people dancing all around him until he realised he was just feeding into his worried thoughts about his life being over.
He was literally the same age as everyone around him but he supposed it was hard to remember that he was only twenty-one when he had a child and lived through a war. It was hard to remember how to be normal.
He slowly raised his arm, mirroring Marc’s movements, letting the music flow through his hips and torso. A smile crept across his face as the beat swelled, his body lifting with it, and jumping when it dropped. Closing his eyes amplified the sensation, freeing him in a way he hadn't felt before. He was no longer just following the rhythm of the song; he was dancing to the pulse of his own thrumming heart.
Slowly, he felt a body come up behind him and he chanced a look over his shoulder. It was a man, taller than he was, with jet black hair. He had icy blue eyes and his pupils were blown wide, dark pools of onyx that scaled the length of his body. He was handsome if a bit rugged and James let him snake his arms around his waist, pulling him in close.
They swayed in tandem and the man whispered something into his ear in French but he couldn’t quite catch it, instead tilting his head to the side and that seemed to be the right thing to do because he felt the stranger rest his head on the divot of his shoulder, his breath cool over his sweat-slicked skin.
The song switched to something slower, the lights burning impossibly low, and he felt foreign lips trace across the arch of his neck, wet and hot. He couldn’t tell whether he liked it or not but it had been so long since he had felt another body against his own that he allowed it just to chase the feeling of loneliness away.
James had always been tactile—perhaps too much at times—but it was how he expressed and felt love. When walking with Sirius, he’d loop their arms together; with Marlene, it was an arm slung around her shoulder; and with Fabian, it was playful bumps of their elbows. With Regulus, his touches were softer, lingering on his wrists or neck, while with Lily, it was a gentle rub of her shoulders. And when it came to Harry or his parents, any kind of touch would do.
It had been so long that he just let it happen, letting his hands rest on top of the mans’, tracing against the rough skin there.
Finally, he turned around so that they were face to face and he was content to keep dancing but the man lifted his head and when his eyes latched onto his, they were hungry, darting from his eyes down to his lips and when he made a move, James had to put a hand on his chest to stop him.
He disentangled himself and walked away, hating and commending himself for doing it.
It would be so easy for him to get lost in the body of a nameless stranger but that wasn’t who James was unfortunately. He wished he was the type who would shag a stranger in a dirty bar bathroom but his heart was too big for that, his conscience even bigger.
When he got back to the table, he downed the rest of his lukewarm beer as though it was a shot and took a breather next to Louis who was silently watching the bar unfold around them.
He turned to James as he sat down, “That looked fun,” he said liltingly.
He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and was embarrassed of it even in the dimness of the space, “Sort of,” was all he could say.
He stood up and gave a quick jerk of his head, signalling James to follow him out to a patio that extended off the side of the bar. They climbed a short flight of stairs to reach it, and the space was peaceful, quieter than inside, with only a few others scattered around. The cool night air hit James, instantly offering him relief. Leaning against the railing, the other man pulled out a cigarette, holding it delicately between his long fingers. He offered one to James, who stared at it for a moment before shaking his head.
“I don’t anymore,” he said.
Louis lit his with a silver lighter and blew out a puff before eyeing him, “Anymore? Bit young to have already kicked an addiction don’t you think?” His lips curled around the edge of his cigarette.
“I only ever smoked with a friend of mine. Since moving, it’s ah- not the same,” he replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
A few lights along the door cast a soft glow over the patio, while the rest of the light filtered in from the surrounding buildings. In that faint illumination, his scar stood out sharply—lighter than the rest of his skin, jagged and uneven. It wasn’t clean like Remus's, whose claws left precise marks across his body.
“I was in a car accident when I was ten. We were driving on a country road when a drunk driver swerved from the other lane and hit our car head on. We ran into a tree. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt so I got a bit roughed up,” he said plainly, fingering the edge of his scar by his mouth before slipping the cigarette back between his lips.
Jarred, James tried to backtrack, “Oh I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just-,” he sighed, “You just look like a friend I used to have- I was caught off guard.”
“Is he also wildly handsome, if a bit cut up like myself,” he smirked.
He was good at diffusing tension and James found he could lean against the railing next to him, “Yes he is actually.”
He nodded, pleased, as another tendril of ash grey smoke flitted from his cigarette.
They spoke idly for a little while longer until they heard the bartender shout out for the final call and knew it was time to reign it in. He put out his stub on the iron bar and it sizzled for a moment before going silent and he led the way back inside.
They regrouped at the table and walked out together. They all bid each other goodbye with promises to do this again sometime. As it turned out, he and Marc were heading in the same direction, so they decided to walk instead of catching a taxi to prolong the merriment for just a little bit longer.
“Did you have fun?” Marc asked with a slide of his eyes, hopeful.
He nodded genuinely, “I did. Your friends are nice, thank you for inviting me. I have to admit, I’ve felt a bit…lonely since moving here.”
His cheek dimpled as his lips thinned, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, “Paris can be like that. There are so many people here yet none take more than ten seconds with you till they’ve moved on and I imagine it’s only harder for a foreigner. But you have us now, and your partner, if she’s half as great as you, I’m sure she’ll fit right in.”
“Oh she’s better than me,” he laughed.
“And your son! I’m sure Harry would be the best wingman, girls or boys love a man with a baby,” he nudged him, drawing another laugh from him. He hadn’t said anything explicitly but he assumed Marc had also seen him dancing with a man and he appreciated that he hadn’t made it weird. Muggles made being gay, or in his case bisexual, a much bigger deal than Wizards did but at least he didn’t have to worry about being judged here.
In any case, he could already imagine him, holding Harry on his hip at a bar, while girls cooed at him in French.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in a few hours,” he smiled when they got to his building and James shamefully had to agree- he may or may not be developing a slight caffeine addiction, or maybe it was just an addiction to that specific cafe.
When he got home, the flat was silent and when he passed by Lily’s room, he saw that she was somehow still awake. The clock read 2:11AM and her eyes were bleary when they peered up at him.
“What are you doing still up?” he questioned from the door.
She held up her book in reply, “I got to a good part then couldn’t put it back down,” she said before putting a pink bookmark in the margin and setting it aside, “How was it?”
He gave her a quick summary of the night then asked, “When we were walking back, I saw a children’s museum, what do you think about taking Harry there soon? Together?”
She nodded, pleased, and he bid her goodnight before going to Harry’s nursery.
In the quiet calm of his room that smelled of lavender, he saw Harry, wrapped tightly in his snitch-patterned blanket. It felt like an ancient relic, out of place with where they were, but comforting all the same. A small broom stuffy sat in the corner and James couldn’t wait till Harry was old enough to fly on his first broom.
He pressed a kiss to his cheek before shutting the door silently and going back to his own room.
He was asleep the second his head hit the pillow.
__________
He ended up stopping by the cafe a bit later in the day than usual.
He woke up with a mild hangover, not enough that he was nonfunctional but enough so that he had a slight headache that was cured by a hearty breakfast and a mid-morning cat nap on the sofa while Harry played with blocks at his feet.
Later, Lily had gone out to get groceries with Harry and he was reminded that he had to return the book he had snatched from the cafe in favour of a new one so he figured he’d use this free time to make a quick stop by the shop. He also wanted a chance to see Marc again who apparently seemed to be the only employee at the cafe which was a bit odd but he did say it was new so he supposed it made sense.
The door chimed when he pushed it open and he wasn’t all that surprised to see it was empty inside, caught between the midday and evening rush.
Marc was wiping down some of the counters but he straightened at his arrival, “James!” he smiled. He always did that, as if somehow surprised to see him despite the fact that they discussed this the previous night- it was always a surprised exclamation of his name, never a greeting. “How are you?”
“I’m good, you?” he asked, grabbing the book from the bag at his side and heading over to the shelf to slot it back somewhere.
He was going to put it back at a random spot until from behind him, Marc said, “Oh that actually goes on the next shelf over. My boss, Reggie, he’s so specific about it.”
His voice was casual, easy even, but to James it was as if he’d said the most outlandish thing in the world. He froze, slowly turning on his heel to look back at him, “Your boss?”
He looked up from where he was rubbing at a tough stain on the countertop, “He alphabetized the whole thing when he first took over and since then, he checks it at the end of every week. I don’t know why he cares so much but y’know, everyone has their quirks.”
“James, I’ve told you dozens of times, it goes by author and title,” Regulus huffed, reorganising the shelf in his dorm room.
“Reg, don’t you think that’s a bit much?” he replied, tilting his head to try to find the right spot for the book in his hand.
“If you know the book you’re looking for is called Lunar Lexicon by Wertothdon’t you think it’s quicker to just go to that section rather than try and sort through all that mess?” he queried with a raised brow.
He didn’t reply, knowing he had been outsmarted, and Reg came over to poke him in the side, “You can say I’m right y’know?”
He just parroted back what he said in a funny voice and when Reg turned away to walk into the bathroom, he shoved the book in a random spot.
“James, put it in the right spot!” he shouted from behind the door.
Barty laughed from his spot on the bed while he just muttered, “Bloody hell,” and put it in its designated spot, wondering how the hell Regulus had known.
“James?”
Marc was suddenly in front of him. His surroudings slowly came into focus and he reoriented himself- he had been slipping back into old memories more often than not, each episode bringing with it a fresh wave of pain and misery.
“Oh sorry what? I just-” he waved his hand around absently. He went to the next shelf over and slotted the book in what seemed like the right spot but he couldn’t be sure all the while his head started to spin. Reggie was a perfectly normal name- short for Reginald or some other French name he’d never heard of, he tried and failed to convince even himself.
He narrowed his eyes and said matter-of-factly, “I think you need a simple black coffee today.” He ambled back to the counter and called out towards the direction of the kitchen, “Reggie, can you put on two black coffees?”
A moment later, a man trailed out and replied smartly, “Is that not what I hired you for?”
“I think a boss should know how to make his own product,” he tutted and then turned back to James, “What do you think you want next?”
James refocused on the shelf, “Er-,” before he could say anything, Marc interjected which was well good because he didn’t really know what he wanted- his brain felt like it had melted and was just sloshing around in his skull now.
“I always have fun just shutting my eyes and picking something,” he chirped.
Seeming like a good idea, he shut his eyes and waved his hands about wildly until his finger landed on something. He tugged the soft covered book from its slot and turned it over to see that it was a copy of The Iliad. It was worn, micro tears littering the edges, and the lettering on the front was faded but it wasn’t run down so much as well-used and loved.
“That was such a chore to read in school wasn’t it,” Marc commented.
He just nodded absently, “Yeah it was, but maybe I’ll like it more now.” He’d actually never read it so he was pretty pleased with his choice knowing that it was standard muggle practice to have read it at some point.
“I have to go round to the shop to get some milk, I shouldn’t take long, are you okay here on your own?” his boss, Reggie, spoke again in English though he wasn’t quite sure why.
“He acts like I don’t do that everyday,” Marc muttered then said, “Yes I’m fine.”
“Ne laisse pas ton petit ami te distraire” he said finally with a lilting tone that caught his attention. (Don’t let your boyfriend distract you). When he looked up to spot ‘Reggie’, he was, regrettably, already gone but maybe that was for the best.
The little box in the back of James’ mind felt like it was rattling and he had to physically shake his head to will it to stop.
Marc was still laughing though, “What is it?” he asked, wondering what Reggie had said.
He just shook his head then went back to finish off their drinks.
“So, you’ve got friends down, what say you about your love life?” he asked once they sat back down in their spot. One other person had come in but they ordered a simple black coffee and sat down to get some work done so Marc did have some time to take a seat with him though he kept his head on a swivel.
“Nonexistent and not looking,” James shrugged as he sat back.
“At all?” he asked, shocked, “But you’re so- well you know.”
He tilted his head and Marc went on like he was thick, “Handsome.”
Looking out the window at the setting sun, he just had to shake his head, “I think my time for that has passed.”
Marc just looked at him, questions brimming behind his eyes, his fine features downturned, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He asked, taking another sip of the rich coffee and savouring the caffeine as it slowly got to work on him, chasing away the last dregs of tiredness from last night.
It was Marc’s turn to shake his head, “Whatever it is that happened. I can see it- in your eyes.”
James was going to respond but Marc just ploughed on, “So what sports do you like?” and the conversation continued from there.
__________
When he arrived home, he saw a letter sitting unopened on the dining table.
He was confused for only a moment because upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a missive from Dumbledore. He used the muggle post system to go undetected but he still somehow imbued some sort of magic into the letters because they never just arrived with the rest of the mail, it was always somehow separated as if to emphasise its’ importance.
He tore it open and pulled out the parchment, its soft and thick texture reminding him a bit of home. He always found muggle paper too thin and prone to tears.
Shafiq,
I hope you are well.
I’m writing to inform you that things here in England aren’t so good. We’re seeing an uptick in giant storms that threaten our safety but we’re doing what we can to stay afloat. I’ve made accommodations for everybody, as I do, but it’s difficult with the way things are going. My neighbours have also been incredibly vicious, depotting my plants or outright stealing them for her own- how cruel.
Anyways, that’s enough about my neighbours, how are yours? Remember, it is good to make friends so they too can give you a cup of sugar should you ever need it.
Best wishes,
Brian
“I cannot wait till they take down that noseless bastard so Dumbledore would at least stop writing in code,” Lily said once she arrived back home, tossing the paper aside after only having looked at the letter once. “It’s all gibberish.”
James had to agree, Dumbeldore talking in rhymes and riddles was one thing, but being subjected to them when talking about the state of the world was another.
Lily though, annoyed whenever something puzzled her, went back to retrieve the letter and after a few minutes of deciphering it, decided, “I guess giants have now sided with Voldemort, adding to his ranks, and the death eaters are targeting safe houses? Or Order sympathisers?”
It sounded about right, “Lovely,” James sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You think I can ask him to include Quidditch updates? Surely they’re still playing right?” James cared about the letters, of course he wanted to know how everyone was doing or if something major had happened, but constantly receiving the same letter about how things were ‘looking dire’ didn’t help anything.
Lily shook her head at his attempt to lighten the mood, “I can’t believe they’re all still out there, taking control of the entire Wizarding World like parasites,” Lily criticised. “You know when I found out about magic, I thought anything was possible and that nothing could bring us down and yet here we are. Do you even know how much I miss using a Lumos when I go to Harry at night or a quick Accio for the television remote?”
“I don’t think any of us envisioned our lives turning out this way, Lils,” he replied simply.
“And why the hell isn’t Dumbledore doing something about it then? Dorcas found Voldemort herself after Marlene, there’s no way he can’t do it too,” she urged.
But he didn’t have any answers to her line of questioning, he didn’t have anything to offer because he didn’t know anything anymore.
She sighed, knowing how he felt, and folded the letter away.
“Well I have some good news,” she chirped, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
“Hit me,” he replied, grateful for the change in tune.
“I ran into Madam Gauthier today and I mentioned how I wanted to become an English tutor and she hired me for her granddaughter Juliette!” she grinned, twirling a lock of fiery hair incessantly around her index finger.
“That’s amazing Lils, when do you start?”
“Tomorrow!” and he remembered that it was a Friday today so it was perfect. “I told her that I had absolutely zero certifications and she said, and I quote, ‘English is the same wherever it came from, degree or not.’ So, while I was out, I stopped by a shop and got a few workbooks I thought we could get started on.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to get started though, considering she’ll know considerably more French than English?” he asked.
She considered it before saying, “Well, kids do learn English in school here and with the tele now, they pick up a lot. Plus, my French skills aren’t horrible so I’ll be able to get by. I think with a little back and forth we’ll come to something.”
He was proud of her optimism, “How will Harry and I cope without you around,” he frowned, initially meaning for it to come off as a joke but he realised just how serious it actually was after the words escaped him. They had been spending all day everyday together for much longer than when they came to France. They’d been in hiding for the entirety of Lily’s pregnancy as well, forcing them into the confines of the same four walls of a house or flat for the past two years at the very least.
She started looking worried but before she started to spiral too far, he leaned out and grabbed her hand, “I’m kidding, we’ll do just fine, I think if anything, some time apart is good for us.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” he reassured her.
Her cheeks pinked as she played with his fingers, “This might sound weird but I’m really happy I had Harry with you.” He laughed but she didn’t, “Really. I know we didn’t always get along in school but I don’t think I can ever imagine how my life would’ve been without you by my side through it all. You’ve been invaluable James.”
“I doubt you would’ve had to go into hiding,” he pointed out but his heart still squeezed at her sentiment.
“No that’s true but I would do it another ten years if it meant we all got to stay safe together,” she smiled then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I think if younger me heard what I was saying now, she’d have a conniption.”
“Younger Lily was uptight,” he said before dodging her incoming jab at his ribs.
“Younger Lily was sensible, you’ve brought me down this dark path,” she tutted.
“I rather think that was Mary.”
She nodded slowly, turning away, “I think she just helped me find myself. It might explain why I feel so lost now without her..."