Chapter 6
James Potter knew love at first sight existed, because he remembered the first moment he’d ever seen Lily Evans.
He hadn’t realized it at first, on the train, though he’d been shocked by the electric jolt he felt when their eyes connected for the first time.
It was later during the sorting that it had hit him. The nasally voice of the Sorting Hat floated through his mind.
“Evans, Lily.”
So that was her name. Lily Evans. James’ stomach swooped like he was playing Quidditch.
With a determined look in her brilliant green eyes, the small redhead raised her chin and paced toward the hat on steady legs. She folded her hands across her lap politely like she was at a high tea. And in that moment, James Potter knew two things.
One: Lily Evans was going to be sorted into Gryffindor. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so brave and resolute.
And, two: He was in love with her from the tip of her freckled nose to the heels of her lightly scuffed shoes.
James was been every bit as startled by this epiphany as anyone might be to learn that, at age 11, an otherwise normal boy identified the love of his life. But it hadn’t felt like a normal, eleven-year-old feeling to James. That’s partly why it stood out to him: it was the most bone-deep, mature feeling he’d ever known n his whole life. He felt electrified and ancient at the same time. He watched the hat pronounce “Gryffindor!” with no surprise whatsoever (though a certain Snape, Severus had given a startled snort a few rows back).
Lily smiled, and James was ruined forever.
James sensed Lily before she saw her, partly because he felt her eyes on him and partly because of the hush that fell over the Great Hall when she appeared at the top of the staircase.
He turned and felt his breath halt.
It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. That same feeling of love hit him in the chest like a battering ram. Powerful. Unmistakable. Indescribable. That same heat engulfed him. That familiar tug pulled him towards her.
Lily had been beautiful to James every single day of their six and a half years at Hogwarts, but tonight? Tonight she was otherworldly.
James couldn’t breathe. Lily’s hair was swept up into a chic twist at the back of her neck, and her cheeks flushed slightly as hundreds of eyes trained on her. She wore a floor-length shimmering gold gown, with a high neck and a fitted bodice that made James’ mouth go dry. Her arms and shoulders were bare, exposing pale, freckled skin he’d only ever dreamed about. The fabric clung to every curve on her body, from her high, round breasts to the hypnotic dip-and-flare of her waist, to the strong columns of her thighs. With the gold of Lily’s gown and her shining red hair, the overall effect created an ethereal glow, like a winter sunset or a still-burning ember.
It was a good thing James’ mum had raised him to be the consummate gentleman, because he didn’t have to think as he stepped forward to meet her at the base of the staircase. He felt like he was moving through a dream. Lily Evans was descending on a golden cloud to meet him? At any moment he expected to wake, hot and hard and desperate for release, like he had hundreds of times before.
But it wasn’t a dream. Just a few hours ago, he’d been kissing her pouty little mouth. He’d had his hands spanning her waist, tangled in her hair, teasing the hard points of her breasts. The same green eyes that were now glittering like emeralds had been hooded with desire earlier as he’d tipped her head back to give him better access to the sensitive pulse point on her neck. He felt himself stiffening at the memory and pushed the taunting images from his mind as Lily approached him, a shy smile curving her lips.
James offered his hand for the last few steps. His voice came out raspy and dry. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat.
Lily’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Am I a thing, Potter? A girl puts on a gold dress and suddenly she’s just a shiny object?”
“No!” James swore. “Gods—that’s not what I meant. You—you’re the most beautiful girl—woman I’ve ever seen. But you’re also clever and kind and…”
Lily laughed cheerfully.
“It’s okay, James,” she said, patting his arm. “I was just teasing; I know what you meant. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
Her eyes took in James’ appearance approvingly and he sent a silent thank you to his mum for the second time that night, for insisting he always have tailored dress robes over his protestations that he’d never wear them.
They moved together into the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a palace of ice and snow. He led Lily over to the rest of the Marauders, who were hanging around a centaur ice sculpture. Wormtail looked uncomfortably stuffed into his robes, like they might have fit several years (and inches) ago. James was surprised to see Moony had on a stunning set of robes, expertly tailored to his tall form, but one glance at Sirius and he knew who was responsible. Sirius, of course, looked like he was born in dress robes, but he was almost unrecognizable because he looked both nervous and happy—two things James rarely associated with his best friend.
Sirius winked at James and Lily, and squeezed Remus’ hand, which he was holding in a subtle claim. James nodded at Moony and grinned, finding himself stupidly happy for his best mates. Moony’s mouth curved into his signature understated smile, same as ever. It was obvious Peter hadn’t noticed yet, and James understood why they might not have told him.
Wormtail usually had to be disabused of his conservative upbringing before he came round to a right way of thinking about things. James figured he’d have to talk to Peter about this, like he had about Muggleborns and Marlene and Moony’s “furry little problem.” He knew Peter didn’t mean to be intolerant and that he’d been raised with different values, but all the same he wished sometimes that Peter would think for himself a bit more. After all, Sirius had been raised in the most hateful environment possible, and he’d never swallowed the prejudice he’d been spoon-fed growing up.
Mary and Marlene joined them, and Lily turned to squeal over their ensembles. Mary’s hair was in a complex pile of swirls atop her head, and had in tow one of the Hufflepuff beaters, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes of her. Marlene was dashing in a tux, her Ravenclaw girlfriend looking a little aloof and bored.
Everyone was talking loudly over each other. Mary was exclaiming over Lily’s dress. Several people were debating what sort of magical creature’s feathers covered Professor Grubbly-Plank’s robes, which gave her the appearance of an overlarge bird. Marlene was offering people sips of firewhiskey from a flask she’d concealed in an inner pocket of her tux, and Wormtail’s date kept wondering aloud how the ice sculptures were made.
“Magic, I expect,” Sirius replied dryly, after her third time repeating the same question.
Professor McGonagall was suddenly beside James’ elbow and he found himself and Lily being ushered to the center of the dance floor for the first waltz. It didn’t escape James’ notice the way Lily’s shoulders tensed.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I hate being the center of attention,” Lily said, glancing twitchily at the crowd forming in a wide circle around them.
James chuckled. “I know. Luckily you’re with me and I love it. Shall I create a diversion? Draw them away from you?”
Lily rolled her eyes, a reluctant grin taking over her face.
And then the music started, and James, who’d spent years cursing his mother for the dance lessons he’d been made to attend, was forced to concede she’d been right for a third time that night (he made a mental note to write her a letter of thanks later). Because much as it had mortified him when he was younger, he was rather a good dancer. Placing a firm but gentle hand on Lily’s waist, he took her other hand, and pulled her into the first steps of the waltz. For the first few turns, her spine was stiff and she resisted his lead, but it quickly became clear he was the far more skilled dancer. He felt the moment she placed her trust in him. The tension flowed out of her body and she smiled shyly at him. His heart swelled against his will. It was hard to keep a reign on his hope when Lily was here, all soft and trusting in his arms.
“You’re really good at this,” she whispered.
He raised a sardonic brow. “I’ll try not to be offended by the tone of surprise.”
Lily laughed, letting him spin her in ever more complex maneuvers. He lifted her on the next downbeat, and when she gasped in surprise and then giggled, James thought he’d never heard a better sound.
As they swirled through the ballroom, James glanced up. He nearly made a misstep as his eyes connected with Snape’s across the room. Snape was staring at them with such naked fury on his face, that even James, who was used to loathing looks from his main rival, felt a jolt of surprise. Years earlier he’d suspected Snape fancied Evans, but after that day at the lake he’d assumed whatever tender feelings Snape might’ve held must have dissipated in the wake of his prejudice. But the way Snape was watching them now, like he’d enjoy killing one or perhaps both of them, unnerved James. Perhaps he did still have a soft spot for Evans?
James glanced back down at Lily and discovered a much pleasanter surprise to find that she was looking up at him, directly meeting his eyes. He couldn’t quite read her expression—but there was something wondering in her eyes, like she was seeing him for the first time. And liking what she saw.
James instinctively tightened his hold at her waist, drawing her a little closer. Lily’s breath hitched, and suddenly they were dancing as James had never danced with anyone before. As the music climaxed, he lost track of where his body ended and hers began. They were an elegant whirlwind. Connected. Inseparable. One.
Hope—dangerous, treacherous hope—bloomed in James’ chest.