Chapter 1
Twas the night before the Yule Ball, and all through the Gryffindor common room, nobody was quiet—probably not even a mouse.
Lily had long since given up trying to read, and was instead watching Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus, who were engaged in a noisy game of exploding snap. Marlene sat on the floor, cracking nuts and chucking the shells into the fire, while Mary lounged on the sofa, working an intricate braid into her long hair.
Really, by seventh year, Lily should have known better than to try reading the night before the Yule Ball, when everyone seemed to collectively catch the Christmas spirit (or at least a large quantity of illicit firewhiskey-spiked eggnog that Lily was currently choosing to ignore as it made its rounds through the sixth years on the other side of the common room).
As seventh years, they’d exerted their right to the squashiest armchairs closest to the fire. A huge fir tree glittered with tinsel in the corner. Flurries fell outside the arched windows like an actual snow globe. The fire crackled and popped. It was all very merry.
The picture of Christmas cheer, Lily thought glumly. But it was hard to get into a festive spirit when tomorrow was the Yule Ball, and nobody had asked her yet. Which was especially troublesome because, as Head Girl, she was expected to start the ball with the first dance. What was she supposed to do, stand in the center of the Great Hall and waltz by herself? Which, actually, was starting to seem like an alarmingly likely possibility, with less than twenty-four hours to go and no date in sight. Not even one measly little, “Hey, Evans, wanna go with me?”
Not even from Potter, who was sitting across from her, roaring with laughter because Peter had just singed off half an eyebrow with a badly placed card.
“It’s not funny, Prongs, I have a date tomorrow night.”
Sirius sniggered. “Fat Friar finally said yes, did he?”
“No,” Peter glowered. “I’m going with Jenny Baxter from Hufflepuff.”
James clapped him on the back. “Well done, mate.”
Peter flushed, looking pleased. “Who’re you going with, then?”
James glanced up at Lily and she lowered her eyes, avoiding contact.
It was still so strange to Lily that they were all more or less friends now (even if she couldn’t always make eye contact with James). She’d spent most of her first five years at Hogwarts trying to stay as far away from James and his mates as possible. In fairness, they’d all changed a lot over the last two years, though sometimes the distance was still there—the boys had a million dumb inside jokes, just like she and Marlene and Mary did.
Marlene had befriended Sirius sixth year, and then Lily and Remus had become potions partners after her fallout with Sev. She and Remus also been prefects together, and Lily had been pleasantly surprised to find that Remus was actually quite a lovely, un-Marauder-ish person. After that, the two groups had slowly fallen in together until they were all more or less friends.
Even James. Which was largely because he’d kept his promise to her after their fight two years ago.
Merlin, Evans. If that’s how you feel, I swear on my magic I’ll never ask you out again.
So Lily wasn’t afraid James would spontaneously propose for the ninety-seventh time if they made eye contact, or anything like that. She wasn’t even sure if he still felt that way about her. “That way,” being—as one of the worst singing Cupid-grams on Valentine’s day their second year had put it—that he was “ready to die for spinach-green eyes.” Or if he ever had felt that way in the first place. Lily was certain Potter had only fixated on her because she was the only girl in the whole school who didn’t fall at his feet the second he ruffled his stupid black hair.
It didn’t matter anyway, because if Mary’s extremely reliable gossip was to be believed, he’d moved on… Many times over, in most of the broom closets in the school. Apparently Potter had decided being treated like the emperor of Hogwarts wasn’t such a bad thing after all if it led to lots of snogging.
No, that wasn’t why Lily couldn’t bring herself to meet James’ eyes. It was more that something weird kept happening when they made eye contact these days. It had started after Halloween, because, well… everything had changed after Halloween. But now whenever she looked at him, it felt like when she used to shuffle her socks on the carpet and then go poke Petunia to make her yelp from the static, except it also made her kind of queasy. And sweaty? Lily made a mental note to check her copy Magical Maladies later. Because she did not want to consider the other alternative. Especially not in her current sad, date-less state.
“I expect Jamesie will be going stag as usual,” Sirius winked, breaking the awkward pause. For some reason Peter burst into uproarious laughter. James gave up trying to catch her eye when Sirius elbowed him in the side.
“Stag, eh?” James said, winking back at him.
Marlene chucked a walnut at Sirius, who caught it and popped it in his mouth. “Who’re you going with?” she asked.
“I asked McGonagall if she’d go with me, but it turns out fraternizing with the students is frowned upon.”
Mary giggled. “Sirius! You did not.”
“I regret to inform you he absolutely did.” Remus tried very hard to look annoyed, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.
“More’s the pity,” Sirius shrugged, then waggled his eyebrows at Remus. “Who’re you going with, Mooney?”
“Oh, I—er, well, it’s not. You see. And actually, I thought I’d just. Well. Sort of…”
“Most intriguing, Mooney,” Sirius said, his eyes glinting wickedly. “But you must save at least one dance for me.” He grabbed Remus’ hand and pulled him out of his seat into a limp sort of foxtrot.
Lily snuggled deeper into her armchair, and snuck a glance at Potter as he laughed at Sirius and Lupin. He’d grown the past year, both upwards and outwards, his voice deepening. It wasn’t fair, honestly, that somebody so annoying could be so… ugh. So hot. Also, he didn’t need to be hot—he was already unbelievably talented and rich and popular and athletic. It was such a waste of a perfect profile. She traced his outline from his warm eyes to his lips, which always seemed to be on the verge of a smile. And was the dimple reallynecessary? The strong, comic-book-hero jawline?The I-can-lift-very-heavy-objects neck?
Lily had developed a complex about James’ neck. It was probably a natural consequence of staring at it all the times she couldn’t meet his eyes. But his neck was—well, in her weaker moments, she could admit she wanted to lick it. Strong and thick, with this terribly distracting V-shape in the front that led to the hollow between his collarbones. It was on full display now. James’ head tipped back as he laughed at Sirius, who was now attempting to lift Remus above his head in a balletic leap.
“—no, Moony,” Sirius instructed, “Put your hands there, and then—”
“—oof, stop it, Pads, ouch, my knee doesn’t bend that way—”
“—you’re not even trying, you’ve got to jump—” Sirius whined.
“—I’ll lift you if it’s all the same, your arms are noodles—”
“—very ungallant of you to say so—”
“—oh, right, because you’re the picture of chivalry—” Lupin thrashed wildly, but failed to dislodge Sirius.
“—am so—umph—maybe you just need to lay off the chocolate—”
“…you going with, Lils?”
Lily jerked back to the conversation. Mary was looking at her curiously, waiting for an answer.
Heat instantly rose to her cheeks. It was just embarrassing when all your friends had their dates lined up for weeks, and nobody had even glanced your way. For the first time in her life, Lily’s confidence had been shaken. She wasn’t the most popular girl at Hogwarts, but she’d never wanted for dates to Hogsmeade or flowers on Valentine’s Day. Gods knew at the very least Potter had never once passed up an opportunity to ask her out—up until two years ago, that is. But maybe nobody thought a Head Girl would make a fun date. Or maybe the dark circles under her eyes from too many late-night NEWT study sessions had scared them off? They did make her look a bit like panda sometimes, and she never had the time or the energy to put on concealer in the mornings. Lily knew she could have asked somebody, but every time she tried to think of who to ask, Potter’s dumb neck popped into her mind, and she couldn’t very well waltz around with a neck.
So the basic fact remained that Lily was without a date, which was just so unfair. She’d been looking forward to the Yule Ball since the start of term. She loved Christmas and dancing (when not performed in front of hundreds of people) and she loved flirting and sipping champagne and getting to not be Head Girl for a night. And she’d splurged on such a pretty dress!
“Um,” she said, hoping to Merlin her face wasn’t as red as it felt. Mary’s expression was beginning to look suspiciously pitying.
“It’s okay, Evans,” Peter piped up. “You can hang out with me and Jenny all night.”
A mental image of Peter and his girlfriend wrapped around each other while she stood off to one side with a sad drink in her hand flashed behind her eyes.
Through some horrible involuntary instinct, Lily found herself glancing at James again. He was watching her intently.
Oh gods. It was just as bad as she’d feared. Now that they’d made eye contact, she couldn’t look away. Her mind blanked. His eyes were such an unusual color—almost golden, with flecks of green and brown. James’ expression sharpened to one of concern as the silence stretched. A log popped and hissed in the fireplace. Say something!! Lily’s brain yelled.
“Actually, I’m going with James.”
Lily blinked. Surely she had not just…
Oh.
God.
WHAT HAD POSSESSED HER TO SAY THAT?!?
There were audible gasps.
“WHAT?!”
“You andPotter?!” Mary shrieked.
“YOU DIDN’T TELL US!!!”
James appeared to be trying not to laugh as he leaned back in his armchair and quirked an eyebrow at her. He shook his head imperceptibly, a pleased smirk on his lips.
Lily earnestly wished she could fade into her own armchair. If she were a chair, nobody would be gawking at her right now. If she were a chair, she wouldn’t be the same color as the chair—crimson, by the way—she’d just be a normal chair color. If she were a chair, she wouldn’t be going to the Yule Ball with James Potter, former nemesis-turned-friend-with-distracting-neck. Tomorrow.
James still looked alarmingly unfazed—even pleased—with this development. Meanwhile their friends were still bombarding them with questions and reprimands, looking back and forth between them warily.
James stretched and put his hands behind his head. “Sorry,” he shrugged, grinning. “Forgot to tell you lot. But, yeah. Evans finally said yes.”
Lily released a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. He was… going along with it? He didn’t already have a date? This was… working?
James must have sensed Lily wasn’t capable of speech at the moment. As she listened to him smoothly covering for her spur-of-the-moment lie, she felt a rush of gratitude for him, for the second time in her life. Merlin’s beard. What had she done???