Chapter 4
As soon as the flames of Lily’s hair whipped around the corner, James uttered a vile curse and punched the nearest thing. Which was a mistake, because the suit of armor made a tremendous crash and tried to have a go at him, forcing James immobilize it with a handy little jinx Moony had found their third year.
Blood still running hot through his body, he finished their rounds alone, which gave his thoughts way too much time to torture him.
The instant Lily’s lips had touched his, James knew he’d made a catastrophic mistake. Because he wasn’t ever going to be able to move on from that moment. He’d known he loved Lily Evans since first year, almost since the first moment he’d seen her. And he’d known he wanted her for nearly as long. He cringed, remembering the way he used to stiffen practically every time she walked into a room. Still did, if he was completely honest with himself.
But getting to taste her? Getting to watch her come apart under his fingers? That was a completely different feeling altogether. He’d thought his heart was going to burst through his chest, it was beating so hard when she reached up and kissed him. It was the most perfect moment of his entire life.
He swore, remembering each press of her petal-soft lips. Every place her hands had roamed over his body felt branded. The feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest. And, most of all, the feeling of her gripping his fingers with the force of her release? He knew it was no use. He could live to be as old as Nicholas Flamel with only one memory left in his brain, and it would be that one.
One more breathy little moan from her, and he was pretty sure he’d have started stripping away their clothing until there was nothing between them. Until he could sink inside her and make Lily his in a way that couldn’t be undone.
Knowing she’d wanted him to didn’t make him feel any better. Well, actually, it did a little bit. He bit back a groan remembering the way she’d instinctively ground her hips against his. But he’d still gone and mucked it all up, possibly worse than all the other times he’d mucked it up with Evans before.
He blamed himself. For provoking her. For getting so hot. For damn near losing control. And then somehow, despite never having wanted anything more in his life, making her feel like he didn’t want her. Like a prize idiot.
With a heavy sigh, he finished rounds and climbed back through the portrait hole, very much looking forward to falling dead asleep in his four-poster where he couldn’t be tormented by the image of distrust and dislike clouding Lily’s lovely eyes all over again. After they’d shared the most intimate moment of his life.
James shucked his robes and pulled on flannel pajama bottoms, but when he drew back the hangings on his bed, something slobbery and wet licked his face.
“Bloody hell, Padfoot!” he yelped.
The enormous black dog suddenly became Sirius, sprawled all over James’ pillows.
“Oh, come on. You knew I’d be here.”
“Doesn’t mean I want you here,” James muttered grumpily, climbing on the bed and wrenching the curtains shut. Sirius conjured a glowing globe that hung over their heads like a lantern, just as he’d done on a thousand other nights. Nights where they’d plotted their most brilliant pranks. Where they’d hotly debated Quidditch strategy and Bowie albums. Where Sirius had told James what really happened in the Noble House of Black, and where James had held Sirius while he sobbed. Where they’d figured out how to become Animagi, and promised each other to fight when they left Hogwarts. Where they’d planned together for a future both of them weren’t sure wouldn’t come to pass…
Sirius raised his eyebrows, a smug grin on his face. “You smell like her.”
James slumped opposite him, drawing a weary hand over his face.
“I fucked it up, Pads.”
Sirius frowned. “You’re not really dating.”
There was no point lying to Sirius. He’d know anyway. All the marauders were like brothers to James, but Sirius... Sirius was who he’d go to war for, without asking why. Sirius knew him better than anyone in the world ever had. Sirius didn’t even have to speak, and James knew what he was thinking. He and Sirius mostly communicated in a shorthand of half-uttered sentences.
James shook his head. “No. We’re not really dating.”
“But you snogged.” It wasn’t a question.
James muffled an agonized groan in his elbow.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He told Sirius everything, and as usual things started to seem less dire as Sirius listened, his sharp grey eyes taking in every detail James left unsaid, too. “…so it’s hopeless, really.”
“No, it’s not,” Sirius scoffed. “She just thinks you rejected her. Nothing a bit of explaining won’t clear right up.”
“If she’ll even listen to me.”
Sirius grunted noncommittally. “Then make her listen.”
“You’ve met Evans. I can’t make her do anything.”
“You know that’s not the real problem.”
“I know.”
“She’s—”
“Scared. I know.”
“Spent half her life hating you and suddenly she can’t deny your raw animal magnetism and wants to…” Sirius grinned and made a rude gesture with his hands.
“You’re disgusting, Padfoot.”
“Well, what’s—”
“The problem is that she doesn’t trust me. Still.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to get this straight. You dared her to snog you, right?”
“Yes, but without—”
“Falling madly in love with you, yeah, I got it. And so she snogs you, but she gets all caught up in your—”
“I swear on Godric’s sword, if you say raw animal mag—”
“Irresistible charms, I was going to say—”
“That’s somehow worse,” James said.
“—but then you refused to shag her. Even though that’s literally been the sum total of seven years of your pathetically boring fantasies.”
“Not boring, but yes.”
Sirius sighed. “So… this is where I’m getting lost.”
It was where James got lost, too. He thought back to the way Lily had stiffened when he refused to take her virginity in a public hallway where anybody could have happened across them. Not that he minded the risk factor, but he’d imagined that moment so many times and he wanted it to be perfect, not rough and rushed. Except… in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t really managed to express all of that. He’d just… refused her. Realization broke over him like a cold bucket of water.
“I think,” James said slowly, “she thought I was just proving a point. Making her admit that she feels something for me, just so I could add a notch to my belt, or something.”
“Prongs, mate, that’s demented.”
James glared at his best friend, rising to Lily’s defense. “It’s not—”
“What reason could you have for messing her around like that?”
“I dunno,” James moaned. “She just… doesn’t trust me.”
“You’ve been in love with her for seven years, Merlin’s sake. She knows that.”
But did she? James wondered. He thought back to their argument two years ago. She’d thought he was toying with her at worst, shallowly infatuated with her at best. Maybe she didn’t really know how he felt about her. It was possible that the million-and-twelve times he’d told her how he felt had only served to make her more suspicious of his motives.
“So, what now?” Sirius asked.
James sighed. “I’m going to tell her that I love her. No roses, no mistletoe, no bloody singing cupids. I’ll just tell her that I love her, and if she still wants me, I’ll go with her to the ball.”
“As her fake date who is in real love with her?”
“Yes.”
Sirius gave him shrewd look.
“What?” James said.
“That is, without a doubt, the worst idea you have ever had.”
“I can be casual for one night!” James protested.
Sirius sighed. “No, mate, you really can’t. But even if you do somehow manage to pull it off, accepting anything less than love from her in return is only going to end up hurting you.”
James squirmed inwardly, unused to receiving undeniably good advice from Sirius. Normally it was more like, “You should break at least seven international statutes and smuggle a dragon into Snivellus’ trunk.”
“She’s a Gryffindor. She’ll be brave, and admit she has feelings for me. Eventually,” James said with more confidence than he felt.
Sirius merely raised an eyebrow, and settled back, scrunching all James’ pillows hopelessly out of shape as he sank into an even deeper slouch. “Well anyway,” he said, “It’s a lot more hope than you’ve ever had to go on, mate. We should do a firewhiskey toast.”
“We should absolutely not do that.”
Sirius had already conjured two glasses and was floating one over to James. “Bottoms up,” he grinned. “To young love requited.”
James rolled his eyes but tossed the shot back anyway.
“You never said who you were going with,” James coughed through the firewhiskey, realizing a bit guiltily that he’d talked about himself for half an hour straight. “Who is it this time, half of Ravenclaw?”
Sirius had swallowed his firewhiskey without any change of expression as usual, but he froze at James’ question, like a dog scenting a fox.
“I’m going with Moony,” he said carefully.
James snorted. “Right. Who are you really going with?”
Sirius remained very still, watching James as though he were about to explode.
“What?” James asked, a little annoyed with Sirius for being unnecessarily evasive with his jokes. Except he didn’t look like he was joking… Sirius looked unusually, well, serious.
James stared at him, feeling like his thoughts had been hit with an Impedimenta jinx. There was only one possible way Sirius’ statement made sense, but… that couldn’t be right. Sirius had been with about a million girls almost since the moment they’d set foot in Hogwarts.
“You’re… going with Moony?” he asked stupidly.
“Yes,” Sirius answered, a faint blush tingeing his haughty cheekbones.
And that was when James knew Sirius really meant it.
His jaw dropped.
“Oh, fuck, Pads—” he started, but Sirius cut him off fiercely, the familiar gleam of unstoppable determination in his eyes.
“You’re not going to be a prat about this. I won’t let you.”
James knew better than to argue with Sirius when he got like this. Not that he wanted to. He felt as though he’d only just realized he was miles behind in a race and was sprinting to catch up. For the second time that night, he had the horrible sense that he was making a mess of things.
“No, no. I wasn’t—I was going to apologize,” James clarified hastily, forcing his brain to catch up to the conversation.
Sirius leaned back warily, his expression reassuming its usual aristocratic hauteur. “Apologize for what?”
“I—for thinking you were joking. And for having my head so far up my own arse worried about Evans that I never realized—it never even occurred to me that you… and Moony… that you two…” he spluttered.
“Liked blokes?” Sirius supplied, an amused smirk taking over.
“Well, yeah,” James answered lamely.
Sirius shrugged. “I’d always noticed them both, girls and guys, but it wasn’t until Moony that I wanted to act on it.”
Something suddenly occurred to James. “You’re not—”
“Having a fling?”
James nodded.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m not. I’m not,” he insisted, seeing James’ dubious expression. “There’s no need for you to defend Moony’s honor. I properly love him. Death do us part and everything.”
James’ face must have looked very stupid. Sirius laughed. “You should see yourself, mate.”
“I just never thought I’d hear you say those words. About anyone, let alone Moony.” James shook himself. “It doesn’t change anything, you know that, right? You’re still my best mate.”
“Don’t be daft,” Sirius waved him off, but his voice sounded a little hoarse and relieved, which made something in James’s chest pinch painfully.
“How long have you two been…?” he asked.
“There was a thing summer before last. But really it was end of last year, properly.”
“That’s why you two were at each other’s throats last fall?”
Sirius looked chagrined. “Yeah. I was being a real prick. But it’s all right now.”
A hundred memories were shifting through James’ mind as he re-evaluated moments that suddenly made so much more sense with Sirius’ news. The inexplicably vicious fight Padfoot and Moony had gotten into during a full moon sixth year. That time he’d barged into the dormitory after Quidditch practice to see Sirius and Remus leaping apart, all disheveled and flushed. They’d said they were looking for Moony’s prefect badge and James had believed them. All the times he’d seen them wandering off through the castle together on the map, and he’d just assumed they were… practicing charms? Playing chess? What had he thought? It was pretty stupidly obvious, in retrospect.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized they made sense together. A lot of sense, actually. Moony’s steadiness counterbalancing Sirius’s manic moods, and Sirius’s take-no-prisoners confidence bolstering Moony’s shyness. Moony’s quiet strength and Sirius’ brash brilliance. Sirius’ restless energy and Moony’s thoughtful calm. A warm glow filled James’ chest.
“Well,” he said at last, “Moony’s by far my favorite person you’ve ever dated.”
Sirius grinned. “Only the best for the Blacks, as my dear mother would say.”
James didn’t get to sleep until very late after all. He and Sirius kept talking late into the night, and then he lay awake for another hour planning for the next day.
He was going to make tomorrow the most magical night of Lily Evans’ life.
If she’d let him.
****
“You’re joking. So it’s all fake?!”
Lily nodded miserably.
“How? Why?” Mary had abandoned her hair half up in rollers, and was staring at Lily with a completely horrified expression.
“We snogged,” Lily wailed, hiding her face in her hands.
“Was that fake too, then?” Marlene grinned.
The second Lily had gotten back to their dormitory, her best friends had pounced, and Lily, who was a terrible liar, had let the whole story out. Well, almost the whole story… She’d left out the bit where she’d let James finger her through the best orgasm of her life. But Lily didn’t have the heart to keep up the charade in front of her best friends. In typical fashion, Mary was in a flap and Marlene found the whole thing enormously amusing.
Lily explained the whole story from start to finish, while Marlene sniggered and Mary sucked in sharp breaths at different points, her eyes getting bigger and bigger.
“…and I just ran for it. I’m such a classic fool. I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“Fell for what?” Mary asked, looking confused.
“Well, obviously he only wanted to prove a bloody point, didn’t he?”
“Which was?”
Lily’s face heated right up to her hairline. “That I happen to find him attractive, alright?” she said, a bit aggressively. “The only reason he ever fancied me in the first place was because I didn’t worship the ground he walked on, and now I’ve gone and propped up his bloody ego just like every other witch in this school. He’s going to be insufferable. And worst of all, he’ll be right. Because, Merlin help me, he was good at snogging and I liked it. But then he just… stopped. And made it clear he wasn’t,” she cleared her throat, “interested, like that. It was completely humiliating. He was obviously just playing the game.”
Mary and Marlene exchanged a look.
“Lils,” Mary began gently. “I don’t think he was just messing around. Why would he do that? I know you don’t think he really cares about you, but the way he looks at you…”
“He loves you,” Marlene added, bluntly.
Lily scoffed. “There is no way—”
“I know you don’t believe us,” Marlene interrupted, speaking over her. “But think about it. Even if he doesn’t, he can’t have planned this. He didn’t know you were going to announce to the room you were going to the Yule Ball together. He wouldn’t have played along if he didn’t want to, and from what you said it sounds like he was happy to play his part without any physical contact. So there’s no way that’s what he was in it for.”
Lily thought about it. Marlene’s argument did make a certain amount of sense. He might have provoked her, but she wouldn’t have snogged him if she hadn’t wanted to. Plus, it didn’t really make sense. If his goal had really been to get Lily’s surrender, he’d at least have taken his pleasure, too, wouldn’t he? Thinking back, he hadn’t looked like he was gloating when he’d turned her down. He’d looked pained.
It still didn’t mean he loved her. For as long as they’d been at Hogwarts, Mary and Marlene had listened to Lily’s complaints about Potter for hours one end, and had wholeheartedly agreed with her that he was a prat. But they’d always disagreed on the question of whether James’ pursuit of Lily was earnest or not. Both of Lily’s best friends believed he really did love her, though they agreed that his aggressive tactics were a horrid way of showing it. Meanwhile, Lily had maintained that if he really loved her, he would’ve left her alone.
But if, for the sake of argument, he really did care for her… Did she want that? After all these years of despising him?
He’d changed over the past year—even Lily couldn’t deny it. She’d been skeptical when Dumbledore awarded him Head Boy at the start of term, but she had to admit he’d completely risen to the role. Watching him gently break up a pair of dueling third years; or bend down to help a lost first year so they wouldn’t be intimidated by his height; or furiously defend the same small, annoying Slytherins he used to hex when he was their age, had forced Lily to concede that he was the perfect choice. He’d never once shirked rounds or any of his Head Boy duties the way she’d feared. And she actually admired the way he managed to enforce rules without damaging his nonchalant reputation. Somehow the troublemakers and quiet kids looked up to him alike. Though she supposed he had more than enough experience as a troublemaker himself to know how to effectively deal with them.
James wasn’t nearly the same swaggering showoff he’d been when she’d first met him. And unfortunately, Lily supposed there wasn’t any point anymore to denying the way her stomach flipped whenever she saw him now. His lean, tanned face. His perfectly tousled black hair. His clear, surprisingly kind hazel eyes, with the round glasses lending some gravitas to the perfect symmetry of his face. The way the corners of his lips crinkled when he smiled, still retaining a vague air of mischief. And gods his body. Though she’d barely gotten to explore the contours of his tall frame, James’ well-muscled body was branded in her mind. Even now, the memory of his strong arms surrounding her made Lily’s knees weak with want. Held against his broad chest, she’d felt safe and protected, as though nothing would ever harm her again.
She knew at least that part was real… the safety. Whether she could really trust him or not, she didn’t know. But she’d experienced James’ protective streak firsthand on that horrible Halloween night.
Lily had intended to maintain a crisp distance from Potter when they’d become Head Boy and Girl, insisting they complete their nightly rounds separately, which had worked until about two months ago.
Their seventh year at Hogwarts had just felt different. The relentless stream of death notices and disappearances in the Daily Prophet, the gathering sense of gloom and darkness in the wizarding world beyond, and for Lily, the constant threat of being hexed or jeered at in the hallways for being Mudblood, had everyone on edge. For the most part, she could hold her own. A quick bat-bogey hex or repulsive rash jinx usually did the trick. And she suspected that even though they didn’t talk anymore, Severus might have been defending her, or at least deflecting the attention of some of the nastier Slytherins away from her.
But just before Halloween, Lily had stumbled across a cluster of Slytherins on her rounds.
What she’d seen had changed her entire worldview.
Two Slytherin sixth years had loomed over a gaggle of their first-year housemates. One small second-year stood to the side, shaking. His face was pale, and blood trickled from his nose.
“Do it,” one of the older students hissed. “If you don’t, you’ll get it instead.”
“He’s a blood traitor,” the other taunted. “He deserves it. Don’t be pussies. You lot need to learn what happens to the weak in this house.”
The first years looked sick and scared. One was crying and trying desperately not to show it.
Lily’s stomach turned. She’d heard rumors about the hazing that went on, usually behind closed doors in the Slytherin dungeons. But the Slytherins had become more and more emboldened in their cruelty, as You-Know-Who gained power, and Lily guessed this group just didn’t care anymore if they were found out.
“What’s going on?” she barked, relieved that her voice at least sounded confident, even if her hands were shaking. She suddenly wished Potter were with her.
Their faces whipped round.
One of the sixth years sneered. “Well, well, well, what have we here? Little Mudblood, come to save the day?”
Lily gripped her wand and stepped up to them, head held high. “Let them go back to their dormitory,” she ordered.
But before she could say another word, she’d doubled over as a blinding, shrieking agony the likes of which she’d never felt before gripped her whole body. She screamed, terror pushing all thought from her mind as she fought to remember who she was, let alone a spell that could stop the pain.
She still had no idea how James had found them so quickly, or how he’d known to come in the first place. When she’d asked, he’d merely shrugged and muttered something about “trade secrets.”
Lily had known James was a talented wizard. It was infuriating to see his name at the top of their class every year without his even trying, whereas she had to work her ass off to stay near the top. But knowing that and seeing it were two very different things.
James exploded.
The corridor filled with terrible, crackling light, his wand moving so fast her tear-stained eyes couldn’t track his movements. The younger students scattered, sprinting towards the entrance to their common room. The older Slytherins barely had time to react, before they were slammed into the wall and incapacitated with a cacophony of hexes.
The pain stopped as soon as Lily’s attacker dropped. She lay curled on the floor, panting and shaking, trying to will herself upright.
James ran to her, a wild expression on his face. Fear, she realized. He's afraid. For me. His usual bravado was nowhere to be found. Living together for nearly seven years, Lily had seen him elated and laughing and annoyed and exhausted and worried, but she realized she’d never seen him truly frightened before. And something else… Fury. James was shaking with pure rage.
His lips were white and his voice shuddered as he demanded, “Where are you hurt? Evans. Tell me where they hurt you.”
She’d felt his fingers gently cradle the back of her head, and fresh tears had welled in her eyes, which was just bloody embarrassing, to be weeping in front of James Potter.
James’ face became almost frantic as he saw her tears. “Please, Evans, are you alright?” His other hand moved to her cheek, as though by touching her face he could glean what was wrong.
“I’m ok,” she whispered. Of its own accord her hand covered his for a moment and somehow, the warmth of it, the feel of his touch, gave her the strength to sit up.
James had fretted over her all the way to the hospital wing; he’d practically carried her up the stairs. Once he’d safely deposited her with a very worried Madam Pomfrey, he’d disappeared for several hours. Later, Lily had learned he’d gone straight to Dumbledore and demanded the two Slytherin sixth years be expelled. Whatever he’d said had worked.
All Madam Pomfrey could do for the Cruciatus Curse was give her a restorative potion, but she’d still insisted Lily stay the rest of the night. For a long while, Lily had laid awake, watching the moonlight shifting across the floor.
She had never thought much about why the school’s most vicious bullies and most hateful Purebloods came from Slytherin, but after the horror she’d seen that night, Lily realized some (maybe even many) of them were probably coerced and groomed into cruelty from first year on. Or even before then, if their parents favored the same tactics…
Prior to that night, she and Marlene and Mary had talked endlessly about joining the fight when they graduated. There were whispers of a resistance order, rumors that Dumbledore was involved. Together, they’d spent hours mulling over which defensive spells would be most useful, dissecting which Death Eaters they’d like to take down first, and tracking attacks in the Prophet, all three of them almost eager to join the war.
But now Lily was filled with an unwelcome doubt. How could you be sure you were fighting evil and not a frightened, miserable person trying to survive? True, Death Eaters weren’t scared and helpless first years, but perhaps they’d once been. And now that she’d seen them as people, Lily found she couldn’t unsee it.
It had seemed so simple before. Voldemort and all his followers were unforgivable villains and Lily, Mary, and Marlene were going to do anything to stop them. But now? Now, she felt sick when she thought about the way they’d gleefully discussed killing enemies who were, at the end of the day, also human beings. Lily knew they had to be stopped—knew better than most what the stakes were if Voldemort won. And she still wanted to help, but her heart wasn’t in the idea of fighting anymore.
As Lily lay in the quiet hospital ward, watching Madam Pomfrey locking up for the night and checking in on each bed, an idea took form in her mind. Why not? Her potions were good, her charmswork was excellent, and she’d still be helping people. Helping anyone, in fact—if wizarding hospitals were anything like Muggle ones, where you healed first and asked questions later.
Lily had fallen asleep that night exhausted and worried but more assured in herself than she’d felt for a long time. She’d half woken once during the night and blearily thought she’d seen James, looking careworn and serious, next to her bed. But when she’d woken the next morning he was gone and she concluded she must have dreamed it.
When Lily had told her friends of her plan to become a healer instead, they hadn’t really understood. They’re killing people, Evans. People like you! Marlene in particular had been frustrated by her newfound pacifism. But Lily had refused to be dissuaded and eventually Mary had helped her convince Marlene that becoming a Healer was just as worthy an aim.
After that night, most of the barriers between James and Lily had eroded. James had insisted they go for rounds together, and Lily hadn’t disagreed. She’d been surprised to find the work was actually more pleasant with James there, making her laugh with anecdotes from his day and tales of the Marauders’ wilder pranks, asking her questions about her childhood and Muggle life, perfecting his McGonagall impersonation. They never discussed that night, or tipped over into anything too serious, and James kept his word never to ask her out. Once Lily realized he had no intention of renewing his ridiculous wooing, she’d started to relax around him in earnest.
In the past few weeks, it had become harder and harder for Lily to keep her walls up. It was hard not to trust James. Maybe Mary and Marlene had a point. Maybe James really did care for her. Maybe he hadn’t been toying with her emotions after all. There were, she chided herself, a thousand reasons why a man might want to wait to have sex. She shouldn’t have assumed he’d want to, just because he was a man with a hard-on. She started to feel a little embarrassed, remembering the way she’d reacted to his rejection.
“If it’s not a game,” Lily asked, “then what are we doing?”
“I believe the technical term is ‘dating,’” Marlene said, pulling on the tatty Holyhead Harpies tee she slept in.
Lily made a face.
“Do you fancy him?” Mary asked.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Well, you think he’s fit, right?”
“Yes,” Lily muttered, blushing furiously.
“And he’s laid off most of his nonsense now he’s Head Boy, right?”
“Most.”
“Which was what you objected to in the first place. And he did sort of save your life, which is totally dreamy,” Mary added. “I think you fancy him, Lils.”
“Oh gods,” she said. “What do I do?”
“Lily,” Marlene gave an exasperated sigh. “We’ll be leaving Hogwarts in a few months and there’s a war on. If you fancy him you might as well go for it.”