Chapter 7
“Where did you learn to dance like that?”
James grimaced. “Madam Serviette’s School for Well-Bred Wizards and Witches. It’s an etiquette school for old wizarding families.”
Lily arched an eyebrow at him. “I take it you didn’t enjoy your time there?”
“My mum forced me to go, summer after first year. I was really embarrassed about it; I told everyone I was going to visit an American cousin in New York. But I showed up on the first day of class and there was Sirius. He’d told everyone he was going to his family’s estate in the south of France.”
Lily laughed. “Poor Madam Serviette. I can imagine how that went.”
James chuckled, shaking his head. “We were… not her favorite students. But the classes were atrociously boring. Sirius and I thought we were just improving on the stuffy atmosphere.”
Lily shook her head. James never made a fuss about his lineage and she often forgot he was from one of the oldest wizarding families. The Potters weren’t notorious like Sirius’ family, but she knew enough to understand that among people who cared about wizarding society, James’ family were like minor royalty.
Which explained the dancing. Lily had been dreading their first dance, assuming she’d look somewhere between mildly and moderately silly as she tried to remember the steps McGonagall had taught them last weekend. But James had been so confident and steady; she’d completely given over to his lead. She didn’t quite know what had happened, but suddenly they’d been weaving together through a dance far more complex than anything McGonagall had instructed.
Something had changed. Nothing but the music and James’ hands at her waist and beneath her palm mattered. They’d been moving as one—no actual magic had been involved, but it felt like one of the most magical moments of her life.
When they’d finished, the crowd of people around them had burst into a roar of applause, startling Lily, who’d forgotten all about them. Together they’d fended off an onslaught of compliments and well wishes, until James had grabbed her hand and they’d escaped into the outdoor ice garden for some fresh air.
The soft glow of the fairy lights caught James in profile. Lily couldn’t ignore the way her whole body tingled at the sight. The arrogant tilt of his eyes, and the way his round frames contrasted with the angular lines of his face. His thin upper lip and bite-able lower lip (Lily knew this from experience now). His strong jaw. The set of his mouth that made him always look on the cusp of either laughing or smirking. The more Lily looked at him, the more things she found to be obsessed with. Her neck thing had extended to encompass his shoulders and his abs and, she assumed, everything else.
She shivered and blushed, remembering the way she’d practically attacked his face earlier in response to his descriptions of what he wanted to do to her. His words had sent heat racing through her body, settling into a molten ball of desire in her core. She’d never known it was possible to get wet from a simple look. Snogging James hadn’t exactly helped matters, and when he’d finally pulled away and insisted they return to the castle because she was shivering, she’d gone reluctantly, feeling uncomfortably aroused and a little annoyed at James for doing nothing to alleviate her state. She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t the cold making her shiver, but James given her such a stern look, she’d been forced to give it up.
The garden around them now looked like an illustration from her children’s copy of The Secret Garden, except done up for Christmastide. Somehow, against all odds, going to a ball by accident with one of the least likely people was turning out to be one of the best nights of her life. She sighed happily, leaning in to sniff a Christmas tree. James watched her with such a tender look on his face that she blushed self-consciously.
“I love Christmas,” she said, by way of explanation, gesturing limply at the tree, half-expecting James to laugh at her.
Instead, he softly replied. “I know you do.”
“It used to be me and my sister’s favorite time of year. Petunia, my sister—she loved getting presents. She always wrote a mile-long letter to Father Christmas. And I loved the magic and mystery of it. I guess part of me always suspected there was more out there than just the Muggle world, you know?”
James nodded, watching her thoughtfully. “Used to be?”
“Hm?”
“You said it used to be your favorite time of year.”
“Oh. Yes.” The familiar pain every time she remembered her and Petunia as children lanced through Lily. It had been years since they’d been close, but she suspected the hurt would never completely go away. She up gazed at the enormous fir, not able to meet James’ eye.
“My sister and I aren’t… close anymore,” she admitted. Even saying it out loud stung. She hadn’t told anyone about Petunia in years, since Mary and Marlene had helped her through the initial messy fallout. “Petunia was jealous when I got into Hogwarts. She wrote to Dumbledore begging to be admitted too, and when he explained to her that only magically gifted people can attend, she reacted defensively and started hating everything to do with magic and… well, me.”
James frowned. “But it’s not your fault you’re magical and she’s not.”
“I know,” Lily sighed. “But it didn’t matter. And I admit I didn’t help things. I was so happy at Hogwarts and I didn’t bother to hide it when I came home on holidays. It must have seemed like gloating to her.”
“She should have been happy to see you happy.”
Lily smiled ruefully. “Sisters don’t work that way sometimes. I wonder now if I’d let her in more, if I’d told her about the bad as well as the good, and showed her how magic really works, maybe she wouldn’t have grown to hate and fear it like she has. But at the time I was hurt and I reacted badly, too—showing off and playing tricks and all sorts.”
James raised his eyebrows. “Lily Evans—a prankster?!”
“It wasn’t my fault! She has this horrid boyfriend—Vernon, of all names—and one time he tried to grope my ass in a family photo we were taking, so I hexed him. He had really awful gas for three weeks. Petunia was beside herself.”
A black look had come over James’ face. “I’d like to meet this Vernon,” he muttered. “He’d get a lot worse than gas from me.”
“I can look after myself, James,” Lily said, placing a placating hand on his forearm.
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”
Lily shrugged, feeling conflicted. She’d always thought having the sort of over-protective, knight-in-shining armor type around would be annoying. Whenever Mary gushed about a boy opening some door for her, Lily and Marlene would roll their eyes at each other. But apparently she had some kind of inner Medieval maiden-in-a-tower who found it very hot when James got all threatening and violent on her behalf.
James cleared his throat. “So now you know magic really does exist, what’s your favorite part of Christmas?”
Lily thought for a moment, gazing out over the ice garden dotted with huge evergreens and tiny fairy lights. Even though Christmas wasn’t as magical as it had been when she was a kid, and even though in general she despised the cold and drear of winter, she still loved the yuletide season.
“I guess,” she mused slowly, “I like the way it gives us all a little hope at the darkest time of the year.”
James nodded thoughtfully. “We all need a little of that these days,” he said quietly. “The stakes are too high to lose hope.”
Lily knew they weren’t talking about Christmas anymore—not really. “What are you going to do after Hogwarts?” she asked softly.
A muscle jumped in James’ jaw, and he looked off into the darkness beyond the courtyard walls. “I’m going to fight,” he said tightly.
“Why?” Lily asked, genuinely curious to know what his reason was.
“I have to. I wouldn’t be able to face my family if I didn’t.”
“Your parents are fighting?” Lily asked.
“What?” James looked confused. “Oh, no,” he said, seeming to realize her meaning and becoming embarrassed. “I mean, yes, they are. But I meant my own family. Someday. In the future.”
“Oh,” Lily said, heat creeping up her cheeks. What did he see when he imagined that future? Was she in it? When he thought of his life, did he see her by his side? His family. Did he think about what their child would look like, if they had one? Did he imagine her pregnant with his baby? Lily shook herself sharply. What kind of weirdo thinks like that? Even James, notorious romantic, probably didn’t fantasize about her getting pregnant. Would she even want that? She was barely seventeen, and yes, she loved babies and had always assumed she’d have children someday, but only ever in her most abstract, far-off dreams. Yet something about the idea made newly awakened inner primitive self hum with satisfaction. “You… think about that?” she asked.
“Sure,” he shrugged, trying to pass it off as casual, but the yearning in his gaze as he looked at Lily gave him away. Maybe he did, she thought, her heart speeding up. “What’s the point of the future without family and friends?” he continued. “There’s nothing more important.”
Lily nodded sadly, remembering Petunia again. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel the same way.”
They’d come to a secluded alcove, partly obscured by another glowing Christmas tree. They sat on a simple stone bench. Lily shivered a bit as the cold stone bit through her thin dress, and James put his arm around her shoulders. Grateful for his warmth and the comfort of his embrace, Lily leaned into his strong body and he tightened his arm. She could look after herself, like she’d told James, fainting maiden be damned, but gods it felt good in the protection and safety of his arms.
“What do you want to do after Hogwarts?” James returned her question.
Would he understand her hesitation to fight? He was such a Gryffindor—never shying from a fight. She knew James and Sirius would be right at the vanguard of whatever offensive Dumbledore planned, and that because of them it would be a formidable offensive. Would he consider her a coward?
“I want to be a healer,” she said softly, glancing up at James.
A flicker of surprise passed over his face, followed almost instantly by… relief?
She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain herself, but she told him about her thoughts the night after the incident. Far from judging her, James looked impressed.
When she’d finished he shook his head. “Gods, Evans. You’ve got more kindness in you than the whole rest of the world has combined.”
Lily looked up at him. “You understand?”
“Of course. I might feel the same way if—” he stopped.
“If?” she prompted.
James cleared his throat, looking self-conscious again. “It’s like I said earlier. The stakes are too high, if they win. I have to fight.”
He was watching her so intently, but she… Oh. He means me. I’m the stakes, she realized. He’s fighting to protect… me.
Suddenly the full impact of everything James had said earlier hit her.
I love you, Evans… My heart belongs to you and you alone.
A powerful feeling filled Lily’s chest, and warmth spread through her whole body. It was like champagne and raspberries. Like spring sunshine. Like Christmas morning back when she and Petunia were still best friends. Joy. And another thing she couldn’t name yet. But she knew it was there.
She turned in James’ arms so she was facing him, and looked up at his familiar face—a face she’d loathed, a face she just might love.
“I don’t want this night to end,” she whispered.
James kept his word. He didn’t tell her he loved her, not in so many words. But the way he tenderly brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear, and then tilted her face up to his said it just the same.