Girls! Girls! Girls!
Girls night.
Marlene, Dorcas, and Lily have all gathered at Mary’s family flat in London, bringing firewhiskey and witch’s brew, face masks and fuzzy socks. Mary’s flat is the best. She has her own bedroom, and her parents are never home, so she can basically do what she wants. Plus, she’s muggle-born, so she has a TV.
“How’s living with the boys?” Dorcas asks, watching Marlene paint her nails baby blue. Her long braids are tied up in a huge bun at the top of her head, a green face mask over her dark skin.
Lily shrugs, blowing on her own nails. “It’s good. I like Mr. and Mrs. Potter a lot. Sirius and James are kind of insane, but I guess I expected that.”
“Has James… you know?” Marlene says.
“No.” Lily shakes her head. “Actually, the other night, we ran into each other in the kitchen, and he told me that he’s over me. Then, he apologized for how he acted when he was younger.”
“Damn,” Dorcas says.
“Don’t move your hand.” Marlene hits her on the arm lightly. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“There’s not,” Lily says.
“You sure?”
“Sure about what?” Mary comes into her room holding their Indian takeaway. The warm lighting hits her dark skin, and she smiles a crooked-tooth smile when she sees all three of her girls.
Marlene screws on the nail polish cap. “I was just asking Lily if she’s sure she doesn’t fancy James.”
“Marlene!”
“This certainly came out of nowhere.” Mary puts the takeaway on her desk and begins unpacking it. “Do you fancy James, Lily?”
“No!” She says, too defensive, too loud. “I live with him. We’re friends.”
Dorcas gives Lily a look.
“Do I think he’s attractive? Yes. Do I think he’s kind? Yes,” Lily says. “Do I like when he hugs me? Yes. Do I want to date him?--”
“Yes,” Marlene fills in.
“No!” Lily corrects. “Honestly, what has gotten into you all. You know I wouldn’t date him.”
Marlene stands up and crosses the room to search for her meal, long blonde hair in a braid down her back. “All I’m saying is that you guys feel like an inevitability.”
Lily crosses her arms.
“You can tell us whatever you feel, okay?” Mary says. “Whenever, whatever. We’re here.”
“I appreciate that, but there’s nothing to tell.”
“Enough boy talk,” Marlene says, turning around with a fork in her hand. “Boys are icky and I hate them. I have a better idea.”
“Like what?” Dorcas asks, intrigued.
Marlene grins devilishly. “Have any of you ever performed a ritual?”
~
The girls finish their food and their facemasks. They let their nails dry and drink an entire bottle of firewhiskey. From there, they don their wizard robes and summon all the candles from inside the flat. Marlene has a book of ancient witching rituals, filled with bookmarks and covered in hot pink highlighter.
They release their hair, their faces are bare, their feet are free. They apparate to an unclaimed piece of land around the border of England and Wales where the grass is untamed and the woodlands are fierce. Lily vomits when she lands, wipes her mouth, and sucks it up.
“This way,” Marlene says, walking towards the woods.
The girls follow her on unsteady feet.
“How do we know you’re not taking us to our death?” Dorcas jokes. “Maybe you’ve joined the Death Eaters and want us gone.”
“Don’t even insinuate that,” Marlene snaps. “I’m trying to find the perfect location where we can celebrate our femininity and ensure our safety in the coming years.”
“Ooh, big words.”
Marlene scowls.
They continue walking, into the woods and through them. Lily’s robes are too long for her, and she kicks them out to step safely over the uneven roots. Wolves howl and leaves rustle. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do when they’re in the middle of the war, but they’re seventeen. What else are they supposed to do?
After a while of walking in silence, they come across a clearing in the forest. Some type of animal has recently made a nest here, so they’re careful not to trample over the mess of twigs and bones.
Dorcas places the candles in a circle. Lily casts a fire prevention charm, as well as a protection charm. Mary lights the candles with just her fingers. Marlene stands in the middle, ritual book clutched to her chest.
They pull their hoods over their heads, smiling to themselves. It’s silly and solemn at the same time.
“Do you remember what to say?” Marlene asks.
The girls nod.
“I’ll start.” She opens her book and sucks in a breath, stepping back to create a circle. She begins.
“I was born in June. Summer baby, summer girl. My sister was born not long after, and I gave up my crib long before I was ready so that she could have it. I fell out and hit my head. Nobody came when I cried. I am the oldest daughter. My younger sister and brother played games while I was in the kitchen, while I was in the laundry room. I have a duty to my family to be perfect. I never wanted to be anything less than what they expected. I am the oldest daughter. I am the best witch, I am the best daughter, I am the blueprint not because I want to be, but because I have to be. I am a summer baby, summer girl. I don’t owe anyone anything. I vow to always be free.”
Mary looks down at what she had written on a scrap piece of notebook paper and says, “I was raised to be a mother. My family always told me that I had childbearing hips. I was eight. I was barely hitting puberty. They didn’t tell me that I was a good kid, or that they were proud of me for being a witch. They told me that I’d be a great mother. They introduced me to boys, potential husbands. They want me married young. They want me to be a mother. That is who I am to them. To myself, I am Mary, and I could be a mother, yes, but I could also be more. I don’t owe anyone anything. I vow to always be free.”
Dorcas looks at her paper she wrote herself and crumples it up. She says, “My mother sent me to my first day of primary school in braids. They were short little things with beads at the end–pink and purple and yellow. I liked the way they swished and clinked against each other. I liked the way they made my mother smile when she looked at me. Then, a boy tugged on my braids. Another girl picked at the beads. Another boy shouted at me because he hated the way they clinked. I went back home and I told my mum to never put braids in my hair again. I made her take them out. Ten years later, I wear them again, I reclaim my culture, my identity. I wear my braids down my back and I’m proud of them because I don’t owe anyone anything and I vow to always be free.”
Lily takes a deep breath, looking down at her paper held with shaky hands. “I was my dad’s girl. I didn’t like my mum, and I didn’t like my sister. We were too similar, too hard-headed. It was a cycle of mothers pushing their daughters to be something they couldn’t be. A cycle of handing their daughters a broken violin and asking them to play perfect Beethoven. I wish I could be proud of being my mother’s daughter, but I can’t be. I want to break the cycle. I never want my daughters to have a broken violin, I never want them to be expected to play perfect Beethoven. I was my dad’s girl, and I was a boy’s best friend, and I never understood the powerful nature of female relationships until recently. I don’t want my daughters to be like me. I want to break the cycle. I don’t owe anyone anything. I vow to always be free.”
Marlene nods, smiling, tears in her eyes. “Okay, now.”
All four of them raise their wands, tips glittering, just letting unfiltered power seep from their bodies into the wood. Lily tilts her head up to the sky and breathes in the clean forest air, lungs open, eyes dripping.
“We come from the wayward wind,” Marlene begins, reading out of her book, an old ritual written by women who had even less than these girls now. “a piece of charm from the trees, we come from the sky, and from the earth und’rneath.”
Women of nature, women of freedom, women of love. Lily feels it now. She gets it. This pull between her and her girls. Meant to be, ancient, this tie between them that is almost visible. Do boys feel like this? Do boys understand what it is to be a woman? Does anybody?
“Blessed shall we be at each moment best, women of pow'r and women of love, nev'r shall others rid our dignity, and forever free shall we live.”
They shoot their flames into the sky, flying higher, higher, higher, until they’re among the stairs. Lily tastes stardust, she feels electricity on her skin. She feels these women around her, and she feels confident that she can break the cycle.
“It’s our time, ladies,” Marlene says. She’s crying. Her book is clutched to her chest.
Lily sniffs, lowering her wand, flames out of her line of vision. She lets out a loud laugh and shouts, “I love being a woman!”
Dorcas laughs with her, then yells, “I love being a woman!”
“I love being a woman!”
“I love being a woman!”
Mary lets out a loud whoop, and then they’re rushing the center of the circle, enveloping each other in a hug. Women of the ages. Lily is infinite. Lily will never die, not with her girls around her. James is something for later. This is now.
These are her women.
~
They wake up in the morning all cuddled together on Mary’s queen-size bed on top of the covers. Lily has the shakes and nausea, so she spends the majority of the morning by the toilet, willing it to go away. At school, there’s always somebody selling anti-hangover potions, but at home, you just have to rawdog it.
Mary makes eggs for breakfast and Lily forces them down. They sit around the table with a newfound sense of confidence, hungover and tired and happy.
The Daily Prophet comes, and that lightweight spell is broken. The top story is of a half-blood family killed in their beds as they slept last night, the dark mark cast over their home.
“How tragic,” Dorcas says, scanning the headline. “All of them.”
Lily’s heart jumps. She grabs the last page, where deaths are listed, and ensures that none of her friends or their families were killed. It’s routine. It’s typical. You check it, see the list of the dead, and move on with your day. That is how it has always been.
Evan Mckinnon
Roseanne Mckinnon
Lola Mckinnon
Henry Mckinnon
Lily gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, tears brewing behind her eyes. She throws down the paper, and it’s swarmed by the other three girls.
Marlene puts down her fork and leans over the table.
Lily has to back away. She can’t do it. She won’t look. It’s not right. It’s not Marlene’s parents or her siblings, but it’s four Mckinnons.
Four of them.
“Oh my God.” Marlene takes a step back. She’s breathing heavily, gulping. “Oh my God.”
“It’s not…” Dorcas begins.
“I have to go home now.” Marlene snatches the list of deaths off the table and holds it to her chest. “My parents… my parents don’t get the Prophet. They won’t know.”
“Who are they?” Mary asks tentatively.
Marlene shakes her head. She’s crying. “I–”
“Do you want us to come home with you?” Lily asks.
“No.” Her chest rises up and down rapidly, she’s sucking in breaths like the air is depleting. “Where can I apparate, Mary?”
“Just outside the door.”
Marlene is gone. A wisp of blonde hair, running, running, running. Four Mckinnons. Four of them.
Dorcas lowers herself into a chair when the door slams, tears falling down her face. “That was her aunt and uncle, and two of her cousins. They weren’t even Hogwarts-aged yet.”
Lily bites her trembling lip.
The war has come home.
~
“Did you see the paper?” Lily asks, standing in the Potter kitchen, out of breath from her horrid attempt at apparation that left her with most of her arm hair missing.
Remus is over, having recovered nicely from the full moon. Sirius is sitting beside him, James across from him, paper in his hand.
“They’re not…”
“Marlene’s aunt, uncle, and cousins,” Lily says. “All of them. It’s the front page story. Her uncle, the wizard, got too vocal at the Ministry. The kids are eight and three. Eight and three.”
Remus puts his head in his hands, Sirius rubs his back. James fists the paper so hard that it rips.
“Do any of you know how to cook?” He asks.
“What?” Lily almost laughs at the ridiculous question. How could he be asking about cooking skills at a time like this?
“We need to make her a casserole or something. Pastries. Turnovers. I don’t know. I literally don’t care.”
“Poor Marlene,” Remus whispers.
“I don’t get it,” Sirius says, voice broken. “Was their house not protected or something? I…”
“Running story is that a death eater followed her uncle home from work. Their house wasn’t under the Fidelius.”
James stands up, chair clattering to the ground behind him. He pays this no attention, going straight for the cupboards, clanging around the pots and pans.
“What are you doing, James,” Lily sighs, well and truly exhausted.
“I’m making a goddamn casserole.”
~
Five hours later, two casseroles and one batch of biscuits in the bin, James pulls a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and rests them on the stove to cool. Lily’s hair is wild and frizzy from being in the humid kitchen all day, and James isn’t faring much better. He got flour on his face a while ago, and there’s still splotches of it on his nose and chin, a little bit in the corner of his glasses lens.
“Do these look okay?” He asks, tapping the center one with his finger.
“They look great,” Lily says. “Let’s wait for them to cool down, then we can package them up and give them to Marlene.”
James nods.
The back door opens, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter come in, disheveled and smelling heavily of dark magic. Bitter electricity.
“You’re an hour late,” James says, crossing his arms.
“Look at him, telling us off,” Mrs. Potter smiles, patting James on the cheek. “Sorry for not saying anything. It was an emergency.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I’m always concerned.”
Mr. Potter takes off his shoes and looks at the biscuits, rubbing his fingers together. He reaches for one, but James stops him by batting his arm. “You can’t have one. They’re for Marlene.”
“Why Marlene?” Mr. Potter asks.
“Some of her extended family were killed last night. It was on the front page of the Prophet,” Lily explains.
Mrs. Potter takes in a steadying breath. “Well, the war has certainly involved you kids now.”
“To be fair, it has always involved me,” Lily says, not even thinking about her words.
“Of course.”
James frowns at Lily. He looks back to his parents and says, “I want to fight. I want to go to meetings for whatever organization you’re in. I want to end this war before any of my friends get hurt.”
“Sweetheart, you’re just too young,” Mrs. Potter says.
“I agree,” Mr. Potter concurs.
“I’m seventeen!” James says, raising his voice. “I’m an adult! I deserve to know what’s going on, and I deserve to fight for the cause I believe in.”
Lily remains silent. She considers slipping out, leaving James to his parents, but she’s too interested in what they have to say. If they allow James to fight, then Lily will too. She’s sick of being cornered in hallways, sick of being hexed, sick of hearing slurs thrown around at her everyday. Sick of fearing for her life every time she steps outside.
“When you leave school, you are free to do whatever you want,” Mrs. Potter says. “For now, however, you are under our jurisdiction and will do as we say.”
James lets out a loud grunt and storms away.
Lily smiles sheepishly. “It’s been a hard day all around.”
“It’s okay, dear,” Mr. Potter pats her arm. “Why don’t you go see if you can talk some sense into him. If anyone can, it’s you.”
Lily doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t say so. Maybe, at one time, she would have been able to, but not anymore. Not when James’ feelings have changed, when he’s drifting away, when Lily can barely feel him under her fingertips.
When she knocks on James’ door and is told to come in, she finds Sirius, Remus, and James all joined on his bed, sitting in a circle with their heads bowed together. They look at her and immediately scoot to make a space for her between James and Remus. She takes her seat in the youth war council and listens.
“There’s this guy who comes to the meetings a lot. Sirius, Lily, and I have seen him pass through the house. He’s all cut up, only got one eye. The other one’s magical. Everyone calls him Mad-Eye,” James says. “He’s one of the head Aurors. I think we can get him to change Mum’s mind.”
“Mad-Eye?” Remus gapes. “No way. I met him when I was at the ministry to get my registry number. Complete douchebag. Asshat. Dipshit. All of the bad words.”
“Okay, so, no Mad-Eye,” James says. “There’s gotta be something we can do to help, though. Right? There’s gotta be something.”
"Thing is, Prongs," Remus says, "I think we've just gotta wait until we get back to Hogwarts. We can do anything when we're there, but when we're here..."
"We're trapped," Sirius finishes.
There's silence for a few moments until James lets out a sigh and says, "I'm gonna go smoke."
"I'll come." Sirius slides off the bed and stands.
Lily makes a move to follow, but Remus touches her hand and shakes his head. When the two boys have left, Remus lets go of Lily's hand and says, "Sometimes, you need to let Sirius have James."
She nods, not quite understanding. She's not sure she'll ever understand the bond between James and Sirius.
~
Lily’s reading on the sofa in the sitting room in the middle of the afternoon. The boys were playing quidditch, but have just come inside, bringing a sweaty smell with them and their rambunctious laughter. Two sets of feet rumble up the stairs, probably Remus and Sirius going to shower.
The book is another Remus recommendation. On the Road by Jack Kerouac. It’s hard to get through and feels like it was written in one sitting. The sentences run together, the format is almost manic. Lily isn’t sure she likes it very much, but if she finishes it, then Remus will tell her why she should like it, and she’ll probably agree with him.
James and Peter come in the sitting room.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Peter has some of his school reading on his lap that he probably won’t do. James has a whole pear in his hand and The Prophet on the arm of his chair. He digs his teeth into the skin of the pear and makes a slurping sound, the juices exploding from the fruit. A bit of it drips down his chin, and he swipes his tongue out of his mouth to lick his chin.
Lily looks back at her book. James takes another bite. This time, he licks the meat of the pear, slurping up the juice remaining, jaw clicking occasionally. His hand holds the fruit, veins visible after the exertion of quidditch. They show beneath his tan skin, winding around his muscular arms. His sleeves are rolled up, biceps visible. He used to be so skinny, just a stick of a boy who shot up too fast for his metabolism to catch up. It’s caught up now.
He licks the skin of the pear before taking his next bite, practically inhaling it, making grotesque and rather suggestive slurping sounds, looking down at the Prophet, reading an advice column. Another bite. More licking.
Once the pear is down to the core, he stands up with a grunt and walks out of the room to throw it away, Prophet in hand.
The door shuts. Peter slams his book closed. “Did you just watch James eat an entire pear?”
“What?” No!” Lily says defensively. “What the hell, Pete?”
Peter smirks, standing up. “Wanna talk about it, Lils?”
“Nothing to talk about,” Lily says, looking down at her book to hide her rapidly flushing cheeks. “Nothing… at all.”
“‘Kay,” Peter says, smiling. “I’m gonna go shower.”
“Have fun.”
“Let me know if you wanna talk!”
“I don’t!”
James comes back in the room with another pear. “Talk about what?”
“The rash on Peter’s arse,” Lily says.
James pauses in front of his chair. Grins. Sits down. Bites.
Lily sighs.
~
The girls show up at Potter Manor half past seven with booze clanging around in their book bags and sleeping bags tucked under their arms. They’ve got guilty smiles on their faces as they greet Mr. and Mrs. Potter, shaking their hands. Marlene unapologetically flirts with Mrs. Potter. It’s kind of their thing.
After that, they all pound up to James’ bedroom, where he’s got a record playing and more booze on his desk. Earlier in the day, Remus went into the village for a liquor run because he’s the only one of them who doesn’t get declined when buying copious amounts of alcohol. Peter went with him for moral support, but hung out outside of the building.
“Welcome to mi casa,” James says, arms stretched wide. “Let’s get pissed.”
They do. The girls unzip their backpacks and place their vodka and tequila and rum on the desk along with the beers. Remus casts a couple wards on the door and lights a joint.
“Shots,” Lily says, magically pouring eight shots of straight vodka. It feels like they’re back in Gryffindor tower, only with less drugs and better music. Gryffindor parties are deadly. They are the only time Lily will ever be caught doing cocaine. She does it to be sexy and cool like Stevie Nicks.
“Liquor before beerm you’re in the clear,” Sirius hums to himself. Remus bats his head.
They all cheers their shots, bang them on various surfaces, and down them. Lily follows it with orange juice, then makes herself a big drink, half vodka and half orange juice – a seventeen-year-old’s screwdriver.
Lily touches Marlene’s arm to break her out of a trace and asks, “How’re you doing?”
Marlene smiles something fake and says, “I don’t really want to talk about it. I kind of just want to get pissed.”
“Shots?” Lily hasn’t gotten drunk since the night before leaving Hogwarts at the end of sixth year. She was blacked out by midnight and woke up outside of the door to Gryffindor tower with a bloody nose and no recollection of how she got there. It was awesome.
Lily does a shot with Marlene.
She joins in a conversation with James and Sirius on the bed. James is smoking a joint and passes it to her. She puts her lips right where his were and inhales.
“Okay, think about it though,” James is saying, high-serious, “think about it. We plant some sort of… some sort of listening device in my dad’s office. We listen to what they’re saying. We can… I dunno, prove our legitimacy.”
Lily passes the joint back to James. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
He takes a hit, then passes it to Sirius. “It’s not stupid.”
“It’s pretty fucking stupid,” Sirius says. “Just drop it, James. We graduate in a year, then you can fight to the death as often as you want. For now, though, we can just… be young.”
“Don’t wanna,” James pouts.
Lily wants to kiss him.
“Come do a shot, James,” she says, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt.
He says nothing, just gets up when she does and follows her to the desk. Tequila, this time.
“What should we cheers to?” Lily says, holding her shot glass between her thumb and pointer finger.
“Me,” James says, clanging his glass against Lily and taking the shot.
Lily knocks hers back and follows it with a screwdriver that tastes more and more like vodka the further down she gets in it. She shakes her head back and forth. The room kind of spins. She hasn’t eaten very much today.
Mary’s shouting something. She has an empty beer bottle in her hand and is taking charge of the whole room, doing typical Mary things. Peter and Marlene sit on the ground, giggling into each other’s shoulders, arms entwined, drinking each other’s drinks.
“What?” Lily says.
James touches her elbow, hand hot against her skin, fingers wrapping around her arm. She looks at him, but he’s facing forward.
“Paranoia,” Mary says, sitting beside Marlene. “I play this with my muggle friends. The lot of you, sit in a circle! Swear to God, I feel like I’m rounding up First Years.”
James and Lily sit on opposite sides of the circle. Lily takes a seat between Remus and Sirius, which she comes to regret as Mary explains the rules of the game, in which a question is whispered and the answer is given out loud, and only the toss of a coin reveals the question to the group.
Sirius cracks his fingers. Lily is terrified.
Mary goes first, whispering a question to Marlene. She answers, “Yes.”
Mary flips a sickle she found in one of James’ drawers. Heads up. “The question was asking… if Marlene actually has a crush on James’ mum.”
James takes off his sock and throws it at Marlene. The group roars with laughter.
The game continues, various questions of sexual nature. Peter proudly confesses to upwards of ten secret rendezvous in the broom closets. James admits that, if given the choice between having sex with Dumbledore or being kicked out of Hogwarts, he’d have sex with Dumbledore. Sirius answers ‘James’, but the answer is not revealed.
“Okay. Threesome.” Sirius says into Lily’s ear. “Two people in this circle. Who are you choosing?”
“Remus and Sirius,” Lily says. No hesitation. She wants to know what the fuck these two get up to in private.
“What the fuck?” Sirius laughs, hand on his heart, appalled.
Remus narrows his eyes.
“Flip the coin, dipshit.” Lily gives Sirius the sickle and chugs a bit of her screwdriver.
Heads.
“Remus, cover your ears,” Sirius says.
“No,” Remus replies, high off his ass, simply on cloud nine.
“Lily has stated that were she to have a threesome with any two people in this circle, she’d choose Remus and I.”
“Lily!” Dorcas gasps.
Mary falls over with the force of her laugh.
Lily shrugs, smiling. “It’d be hot.”
Remus groans.
Later on, a few rounds through, during which Dorcas has answered a question with ‘Marlene’, many ‘yeses’ have been left without revelations, and body counts have been revealed, it comes time for Lily to answer a question. So far, Sirius has asked her the threesome question, then required her to answer another threesome question about Hogwarts professors. Remus has asked her how many people she’s kissed (3), but the coin landed on tails.
Remus leans in, hands cupped around his mouth. Lily has two more shots in her. She’s perfectly woozy. He whispers, “Choose one person in this room you wanna fuck. Say their name.”
“Are you kidding me?” She asks, completely unimpressed.
“It’s the question,” Remus says, rolling the coin between his knuckles. “The coin decides your faith.”
Lily’s tipsy brain comes up with these two options. She could lie and say something like Remus; a safe answer that everyone would accept because everybody wants to fuck Remus whether they’ll admit it or not. He’s hot. Either way the question goes, she’s safe.
She could also tell the truth. James. If the coin lands on tails, she’s safe. She leaves him wondering. The question can usually be inferred, but James could never be positive. If the coin lands on heads, Lily’s screwed, but she’s drunk enough to gamble.
“James,” she answers.
Remus smiles smugly.
James points to himself.
As the coin is in the air, flipping, Lily is on the edge of her seat. She regrets her decision. She doesn’t at all. She wants James to know. She wants to tell him. She wants to be out of the dark. She wants to hide it for the rest of her life. She wants to die with this secret. She’s too drunk for this type of decision.
Remus catches the coin and flips it onto his hand.
“Tails.”
“Tell me, won’t you, Lily?” James says, leaning across the circle.
“Nope,” she says. “But I will take a shot with you.”
The game is pretty much disbanded at that point in favor of drinking more alcohol. Remus changes the record to something slow and sad. Dorcas and Marlene make sure he’s not looking, then put on something more upbeat. James lights a cigarette. Lily knocks back two more shots and kisses Mary on the lips.
It’s not like a Gryffindor party because Lily isn’t dancing, but it’s like one too because she’s surrounded by her favorite people, and she’s just now realizing that she’s been noticing James far more than she should be. She has been for the past few months.
He’s smoking a cigarette with Sirius. They’re in one of their serious coded talks that even Remus can’t understand, drinks in their hands.
“Let’s talk,” Remus says, pulling Lily aside. The room does not move with her. It spins instead.
“Talk about what?” She says.
“Your answer during the game.”
“It’s just a game.” She tries to turn away, but Remus grabs her by the bicep with a surprising amount of strength.
He says, “No, it’s not.”
“Let’s talk later.” Lily yanks her arm away. She walks to the other side of the room and mumbles, “or never.”
“What’s that?” Remus asks, following her, ears picking up even the quietest words. “Hmm, Lily? Are you running away?”
“Shut the fuck up!” She shouts. “What I say – hell, what I feel – is none of your business! Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you, yeah? You think I don’t know, you think any of us don’t know, but you’re fucking wrong. You’re so fucking wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” He steps closer to her, lowering his voice.
“Oh, don’t you, lover boy?”
“You’re a bitch when you’re drunk.” He picks his cigarette from behind his ear and stalks away, lighting it as he goes.
Lily stumbles.
~
“I have a game,” Dorcas says a while later.
“I’m sick of games,” Lily says, stewing on James’ bed.
“No, it’s a fun game, I promise!” Dorcas swears, holding her pinky up to Lily, who reluctantly shakes it with her own. To the room, she announces, “it’s called kiss or slap.”
“Absolutely not.”
The rest of the group cheers, happily encouraging these stupid games. Publically, none of them are dating anyone, so Lily supposes it’s their way of filling their kissing quotas for the year. She thinks it’s all a bit ridiculous.
“Come on, Lily, won’t you play?” Marlene says, giving Lily big puppy dog eyes.
“Only if I can kiss you.” Lily taps her finger to Marlene’s nose.
“Always, you whore.”
Lily gives a big laugh and takes her seat in the circle, across the way from Remus. Her seat is beside James, who has been chainsmoking all night and smells like more of a chimney than usual. He’s cross-legged. His knee touches Lily’s.
“Okay, you’re gonna spin the bottle,” Dorcas says to Peter. “Then whoever it lands on gets to choose whether to kiss you or slap you.”
“Light slaps please!” Peter chirps.
“I’m gonna rock your shit,” Sirius says before chugging an entire beer.
“I’ll kiss you, Pete,” James says.
Peter blows him a kiss, then spins the bottle. It lands on Mary.
“Right then, give me a smooch,” she grins, crawling forward on her knees.
They kiss, a sweet little peck that earns cheers. The game continues. Marlene gets slapped by Sirius. James and Sirius give each other a rather disgusting open-mouthed kiss that ends in Remus tugging him back, red-cheeked and smiline. Lily kisses Dorcas.
The game goes on for a while. They’re drunk, they’re seventeen, this is the shit they do. Remus put on some sappy shit before the game started, and they haven’t bothered to change it yet. Every single person that Remus lands on kisses him. Every. Single. One.
“You’re hot,” Mary shrugs, sitting back.
“Shut the fuck up,” Remus says shyly.
After James has been slapped by Dorcas, it’s Lily’s turn to spin. She takes the bottle between her hand and gives it a good spin, watching it go round and round, blurring together, eyes going crossed.
The bottle slows to a stop on James. Dead straight.
They look at each other.
“Right, Prongs, kiss or slap,” Remus eggs them on.
James scratches the back of his neck, glasses sliding down his sweaty nose-bridge. “What do you think, Evans?”
“It’s up to you, Potter,” she answers, a good sport. She wants to kiss him, sure, but not like this. She also doesn’t want him to slap her. Would that mean he doesn’t want to kiss her at all? Surely, if he’s moved on.
“Slap,” James says. He rubs his hands together and winds his left hand up. Lily always forgets that he’s left-handed.
Lily braces herself, leaning back against Sirius. James makes a big show of building up to the slap, but the follow through is weak, barely a flick on her cheek.
“That’s lame, Potter,” Lily says, thoroughly relieved.
He grins. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Fucking lame.”
“Okay. Is this lame, then?” Without buildup, without fanfare, unlike his weak slap in every way, James grabs Lily by the ankle and tugs her forward with such a force that she’s pulled away from Sirius until she’s lying flat on the ground, giggling as her face gets redder and redder. Then, James is above her and he’s tickling her. Armpits, feet, neck.
“Stop, stop!” She laughs, writhing against his grip that holds her in place. “James!”
“Take it back!” He says, laughing too, dodging Lily’s attempts to tickle him back. “Say it! Say I’m not lame!”
“Never!” Lily tries to roll away, but James literally picks her up and puts her back in place, continuing his attack. She gasps for air. “James, James, I can’t breathe.”
“Too bad! Say it!”
“James, wait,” she says, going stiller, voice serious. “Timeout. Gimme a second.”
“What? Are you okay?” He backs off.
She shoots to her feet and flips James two middle fingers. “Fuck you, bitch!”
“Oh, now you’re gonna get it.” James gets to his feet as well, but Lily is already flying down the hallway, cackling.
She gets to her door and fumbles with the handle for a few seconds before opening it, but she’s too late. James wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her into the air. She kicks and tries to get him to let go, but it’s no use. He’s too strong.
He runs into the bedroom, Lily shrieking the whole way, and throws her onto the bed, crawling on top of her.
“Gerroff, Potter!” She giggles, trying and failing once more to block his attacks.
“Not… until – stop swatting at my eyes – you say… I’m not lame.”
“I’m not a liar.” Lily pushes at James’ shoulder to try to get him to roll over, but he’s an immoveable force. Saint Lucy. A rock.
“Just… get…”
It’s in that moment that they both realize the position that they’re in. The bombardement slows down, Lily’s arms go slack. She’s under James, legs on either side of his hips. She can think of other times she was in situations like this, and they were under very different circumstances.
She wants so badly to kiss him she feels like she’ll explode. Her heart is James’, should it ever burst out of her chest.
“Uh…” he backs up.
Lily sits up. “I’ll–”
“Just…”
She covers her face with her hands and lets out a sigh. “I’m tired.”
“Are you going to…”
“What time is it?”
James checks the clock in the corner. “Nearing three.”
She runs her hands through her hair and blinks slowly. “I’m going to bed. I won’t be tied into another game.”
“Okay.” James backs out from between her legs and stands up. His hair is truly a mess, and his cigarette smell and cologne has rubbed off on her sheets. “Did you…”
“Yeah?”
“Nevermind.” He shakes his head.
“If you have something to say, then…”
“It’s not important.” He sways on his feet. “Besides, I’m drunk.”
“Right.” Lily pushes her covers back with her feet and sticks her legs underneath. “I don’t suppose…”
“Can I stay?”
Lily blinks. “What?”
“I’m… I’m tired, and I’ve got a feeling that they’ll go all night. I can sleep on the floor.”
“No. Come on up, then.” She scoots over and pats the spot beside her. “Let’s have a sleepover.”
James grins his endearing crooked-tooth grin and says, “Are you sure.”
“Of course! It’ll be just like Gryffindor tower.”
He giggles a little bit, then crawls into bed beside her. Under the covers, he wiggles his feet around, touching Lily’s and rolling back and forth. Lily can’t stop smiling, though she lays completely on the other side of the bed, determined not to touch him.
“Turn off the light,” Lily says.
“Where’s your wand?”
“Nightstand.”
James reaches for it, gives it a flick, and the lights go out.