Epilogue
“Evans… We should go down for breakfast.”
“Mm,” Lily pouted, wiggling into the cocoon James’ body made curled against her back. If he hadn’t already come twice this morning, the movement of her bum against his cock would have driven him mad. “I don’t want to. I want to stay right here.”
James chuckled.
It was still hard for him to believe that this was all real. It had taken ages for him to fall asleep last night, between the fierce pounding of his heart, and the fear that he’d wake up from the best dream of his entire life alone in his bed in Gryffindor tower. So he’d held Lily while she slept, threading his fingers through her hair and trying to convince himself there was no way he could dream up such a wonderful feeling. Eventually, he’d lost consciousness, more against his will than intentionally.
He’d woken to Lily’s bum pressed against him just like it was now, except he’d been harder than a beater’s bat. For once, Lily had woken up cheerful without her requisite two cups of tea, and they’d spent the morning blissfully exploring each other’s bodies.
He’d learned, for instance, that when Lily was close, a dull, splotchy blush spread from her collarbones up her neck. He’d vowed to make his life’s mission pursuit of that pretty pink flush. So far he’d seen it five times. He smirked and pulled her tighter into the circle of his arms.
He didn’t much want to leave their magical room, either. It hadn’t missed a beat, providing a delicious breakfast, and delivering their Christmas day gifts to the foot of their enormous bed.
(James had been appalled when Lily unwrapped her gift from her sister: a dreadful, brown scarf full of holes. Lily had shrugged and rolled her eyes, but he saw the pain beneath her indifference, and wished her sister could see how much Lily hurt. At least her parents were loving—she’d nearly been buried under the pile of clothes and books her parents had sent.)
He himself had received the usual embarrassing number of expensive gifts from his parents—though this year included an abnormal amount of defensive instruments—plus a tin of homemade biscuits from his mum with a note to say how much they missed him. Sirius had given him ridiculously extravagant season Quidditch tickets (box seats, with a scrawled note that said, “Must do something with our time now there’s no school to get in the way”). Remus and Peter had, predictably, gotten him a book about advanced Defensive spells and a large box of chocolate frogs, respectively.
Pressing his nose into Lily’s hair James sighed and said, “I don’t want to either, but our friends will worry if we don’t show face on Christmas morning.”
Lily gave a groan of acknowledgement that sounded like an asthmatic cow.
As it turned out, James was completely wrong—their friends weren’t worried at all. The Great Hall was nearly empty by the time they arrived, only Mary having made it down for breakfast. She immediately regaled Lily (and James, by default of him sitting next to them) with rather more detail about the size and shape of her Hufflepuff date’s penis than he’d ever wanted to know. Gods, was this how girls talked to each other? Obviously, the answer was yes. With a rather unpleasant twist in his gut, he realized if he weren’t here, they’d probably be talking about him.
James had never felt so grateful to see Peter, and clapped him heartily on the back with a cheerful, “Happy Christmas!” as soon as Pete sat down next to him at the Gryffindor table.
Peter winced, and it was then James noticed he was looking rather paler than usual.
“All right, Wormtail?” he asked.
“Yeah, m’fine,” Peter mumbled, before emitting a suspect belch. “Too much—last night, y’know,” he said, staring at the breakfast spread before him like a general strategizing for battle.
“Ah, bad luck, mate,” James laughed, pouring him some coffee. “Thanks for the frogs, by the way.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks for the—well, you know—”
“Firewhiskey? Don’t mention it,” he winked. James was finding this more amusing than he should. At least he knew Peter would enjoy the rare malt he’d procured from the Potter vaults for his Christmas gift.
“Please, don’t say that word,” Peter croaked, looking distinctly green.
“Fine, fine. Eat up.” James nudged some unassuming buttered toast Pete’s way. He stared straight ahead as he munched on the toast like it was an unpleasant task he’d been assigned in detention. From the whispers and giggles to his left, James gathered Lily was filling Mary in on their night. Suddenly he felt a little queasy himself. What was she saying? Was it really good? She hadn’t been faking her pleasure… had she??
“…Prongs?”
“What?” he said, realizing Peter had asked him a question.
“I was asking if you knew where Padfoot got off to last night. Only Moony was in the dormitory when I got back.”
Still half-distracted by Lily’s conversation, James answered without thinking.
“I’m sure he was sleeping with Moony.”
Peter stopped mid-chew, turning to stare at James, looking more alert than he had all morning.
Godric’s sword, James cursed. Why am I always saying the wrong thing? On the one hand, James knew it wasn’t his secret to tell, in which case he’d just made an enormous blunder. But on the other, Sirius and Moony hadn’t been making any secret of their relationship last night. Apparently Pete had been too oblivious (or, perhaps more likely, too drunk) to notice. And then there was always the chance with Pete that he’d say something stupid, so perhaps it was best that he was learning from James and not Sirius or Remus.
“They—they’re together, Pete,” James said, as gently as he could. Peter was still staring at him, half-chewed toast unfortunately visible in his slightly open mouth. “I only just learned myself. I was as—erm, surprised—as you are.”
Slowly, Peter resumed chewing. He swallowed his toast, took a sip of coffee, and then said, “Well. That’s. Good?”
Relief bloomed in James’ chest, and he regretted thinking so poorly of his friend. He’d underestimated Pete—who’d clearly learned a thing or two from their years of friendship with Marlene.
James huffed a relieved laugh. “Yeah, it’s brilliant. I’m chuffed.”
Peter gave a distinctly wobbly smile—but that might have been the hangover—and said, “Well. That’s brilliant, then.”
The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully. From the impressed glances and lascivious innuendos Mary was shooting his way, James surmised that Lily had been genuinely well-sated last night, much to his relief. Their friends trickled in, Sirius and Remus arriving last and looking conspicuously tousled. James tensed, watching Peter apprehensively in case he said something about it. But all Peter said was, “Congrats on, y’know—” He flapped a hand in their general direction.
“On what?” Sirius started sharply, but Remus cut him off.
“Thanks, Pete,” Remus said mildly, putting an arm around Sirius’ shoulders in a silent claim.
The tension passed. Sirius shot James a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn’t have to. James had tracked the mix of irritation and reluctant relief and protectiveness in his look, and knew Sirius had read every emotion he’d felt, too. The silent question and the apology and the mirrored relief.
After breakfast, they all went outside and played in the snow. The lake had frozen solid, so they transfigured their shoes and—well, skated wasn’t exactly the right word considering they spent most of their time falling and laughing and crashing into each other. Lily’s nose turned such an adorable pink that James couldn’t resist kissing it, but the moment was immediately ruined when their friends sent up a chorus of cheers and whistling.
Red-cheeked and covered in snow, they stomped back up to the castle as the sun began to set. The girls insisted they change out of their damp clothes before the feast. It was shaping up to be the perfect day—save one tiny problem. James couldn’t believe he’d spent seven years dreaming up presents for Lily only to be caught flat-footed on their first Christmas together. But he had an idea. Just before Lily turned to climb the stairs to her dormitory, James snagged her around the waist, pulling her behind the giant Christmas tree that dominated the common room.
“What?” she laughed.
He snogged her, just because he could, heat flaring in his chest as she eagerly returned his kiss.
“That,” he said, breaking off their kiss, breathing heavily. “And, I had to give you your Christmas present.”
“That wasn’t it?” she teased, a wicked glint in her eye.
James groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me, witch. But, no. Just—wait here one second, okay?”
She nodded, curiosity overtaking her amusement. James turned and raced up the stairs to the dormitory, tore through his trunk ignoring the questions from his friends, before bounding back down the stairs.
Lily grinned when she saw him round the corner.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
Lily did.
“Hands?”
She held them out, palms up.
He placed her gift in her waiting hands.
“Open.”
She looked down, and laughed.
“I know it’s lame,” James hastened to say, his hand jumping up to ruffle his hair. “But I didn’t know we’d—for once, I didn’t plan this out, so I didn’t have a proper gift for you. But I couldn’t give my girlfriend—” he tried out the word for the first time, and found he liked it enormously, “nothing on Christmas.”
“But I haven’t got anything for you!” she cried, her green eyes widening with guilt and dismay.
“Please don’t worry about it, Evans. You didn’t know either. Anyway, this is really more a gift for myself, if you wear it. You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured you in my Quidditch jumper.”
A shy smile stole across her face, her nose crinkling just a little. Irresistible. James snogged her again.
“So,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke apart several moments later. “If I wear your jumper, that counts?”
James bobbed his head, trying not to appear too eager at the thought of his name emblazoned across her back in an unmistakable claim for all to see. Lily Evans was finally his. And the whole school would know it.
“If you want to,” he forced himself to say.
Lily lifted the jumper to her face and inhaled. James’ jaw dropped.
“It smells like you,” she said, her pupils dilating.
“Fuck, Evans. That’s a good thing?”
Lily nodded, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. James tucked the memory of her inhaling his scent away for future use.
“Oi! Are you two coming to the feast, or not?” Marlene shouted, startling them both.
“Coming!” Lily called, giving James a wink before darting up the stairs behind them.
James thought that seeing Lily in his Quidditch jumper would be the best Christmas gift he’d ever received. It swamped her smaller frame, making her look even more adorable than usual. Lily Evans walking into the Great Hall with POTTER across her back caused more than a little whispering and whooping.
But he was wrong.
That wasn’t the best Christmas gift. The best part came long after everyone else had gone to bed, when the embers were burning low in the common room fireplace, and Lily was stretched out on top of him, his arms wrapped tight around her as they snuggled into the old, squashy sofa. Lily drifted in and out of sleep as he stroked her hair and her back over and over, silently wondering at his luck.
She mumbled something he didn’t catch.
“What?” he said, stroking her cheek softly.
“You feel like home,” she said, her voice muffled with sleep.
A beat passed as James’ heart swelled with her words. Before he could reply, she added, “I love you, James Potter.”
His throat tightened. “I love you, Lily Evans,” he said roughly.
Lily sighed contentedly and sank deeper against him, dropping off into a peaceful sleep.
For the second night, James lay awake beneath her, far too full of thoughts to fall asleep. He knew they had the whole rest of their lives to nurture the happiness they’d just found—to grow together, to make a family, to love each other. But he couldn’t imagine feeling happier than he did in that moment, holding Lily, and her love, in his heart.