Fit
Holy fuck he was fit.
It wasn’t possible that someone could get more fit as they got older, was it? Particularly when they were already the fittest person you knew. Surely they wouldn’t get more fit over time. They would get less fit.
Definitely less.
And yet, as Lily stole multiple glances across the crowded space, sneaking looks between murmurs and feinted nods of attentiveness at the woman before her, whose name she wished she could remember, she confirmed the truth of it.
James Potter had gotten even fitter in the years since she’d seen him last.
It wasn’t really fair, but of course, probably what could be expected. He’d grown a lot in their last years of secondary. He’d been lanky, towering above most of their class. Towering above her. Great face, of course, even better hair. She’d itched to run her fingers through it more than once when they’d been Head students together. But there had always been a boyish quality about him. Not quite grown into his own body, at times he’d resembled a gangly, Bambi-like fawn, all limbs.
He was all man now.
He’d spotted her too, Lily was sure. They’d caught eyes a couple of times across the room. She’d smiled, tipped her drink to him. James had winked in return. He was standing with his parents, who were standing with the hosts of the evening, the McKinnons. Marlene’s mum was lit up with pride, her eldest son getting married at last. They’d spared no expense on a beautiful rehearsal party.
Lily hadn’t seen him with a date, but someone as fit as James Potter, did not turn up to a destination wedding without one.
The same could not be said for Lily.
With no one to rescue her until Marlene and Dorcas had completed the family rounds, Lily finally found herself a break in the conversation and excused herself. The poor woman didn’t look particularly happy to leave her anecdote unfinished. Just what she, a postman, and a possum had in common, Lily wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t hanging around to find out.
She desperately needed another drink.
“Champagne, please. Actually, give me two, I’ll drink one here and take one with me,” Lily grimaced a smile at the lovely girl behind the bar. Luckily, instead a judging look, the girl only laughed.
“Hard night?”
“I should know better than to come to these things stag.”
“You stole my line, Evans.”
Lily turned from where her elbows rested on the bar, a smile already turned up the corners of her lips. She knew that voice. All this time, it hadn’t lost its warmth. Its charm. “Potter, fancy seeing you here.”
“Evans,” he bent to kiss her cheek, a hand on her waist. The touches lit her skin on fire instantly. “It’s so great to see you.”
“You as well,” she just managed to plant her own kiss, feeling the scratch of a light stubble, before he straightened up. Her hand, used to brace herself on his shoulder, now trailed down his arm. It curved around his bicep, admiring the well developed muscle. It dragged along his forearm, exposed by the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt. It caught on his hand.
Her heart skipped a beat when his fingers curled to link with hers, holding her in place.
“Did I hear that right? You’re here alone?” James tilted his head. “That can not be true.”
“And why’s that?” Lily tried not to let her cheeks redden at the way he was looking at her, but he was making it really difficult.
“Because you look more bloody gorgeous than you did when you were seventeen, Evans. And boys are meant to get smarter when they become men. Someone must have snapped you by now.”
“I’m not a fish, Potter,” Lily raised her chin tartly. “I don’t just jump on anyone’s line. And apparently you’re here alone, as well. I thought at least Sirius would be on your arm.”
“He’s on Moony’s,” James nodded towards a corner of the room. Lily followed his sight to see that sure enough, Sirius and Remus sat at the table there, hands linked, heads bent together as they laughed at something Peter was saying.
“Wow. I never thought they’d get it together.”
“Two years now,” James smiled warmly as he watched his mates.
“And what about you? No one special? You’re really here stag?” Lily was aware that the space between was not considered appropriate for someone you hadn’t seen in many years. Wasn’t appropriate for someone who you weren’t intimately involved with. They were so close she had to tip her head right back to be able to look up into James’ twinkling eyes.
But James hadn’t moved back. Hadn’t shown he had any negative feelings toward her standing in his space. If anything, he appeared to be leaning further into her space.
“I am, indeed, here alone,” James sighed dramatically. He reached forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Lily’s ear. “Sad, isn’t it?”
“Someone as fit as you? An absolute tragedy.”
Lily reached for the now filled glass of champagne from the bar, breaking eye contact with James only long enough to nod her thanks to the waitress. She took a slow sip, noting the way his eyes followed the movement of her lips.
His tongue darted out to lick his own.
“You know, Evans, you always were my one that got away. I guess I just never got over you.”
She knew he was kidding, but no one had told her heart. It beat an up tempo drum in her chest.
“Well, you should have asked me out, then.”
“I did.”
“When we were fifteen, Potter. You were a berk.”
“And you were a heartbreaker.”
“You should have asked me out, again,” Lily shook her head at his antics. “When we were seventeen. You were much better then.”
James’ free hand had returned to her waist, fingers scrunching into the soft fabric of her dress. Pressing into the skin underneath.
“What if I asked you out now?” his voice was low, huskier than she’d ever heard it. “What would you say?”
“That depends,” Lily had returned her glass to the bar. Her unoccupied fingers landed on his chest, toying with one of the small white buttons on his shirt.
“On what?” James’ head bent even closer, his breath mingling with hers.
“On how well you kiss, of course,” Lily pushed up on her toes, steadying herself against him. “Wouldn’t want to find out you’re a dud after all these years.”
“Now that really would be a tragedy, Evans.”
James followed these words with a swift but soft claim on her lips, cancelling out any retort she might have made. From the way his hands moved to bury in her hair, tilt the angle of her head to gain better access to her mouth, pull her even closer against him, Lily was pretty sure he was going to get that date.
He really was unfairly fit.