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“There she is, my beautiful girl.”
Lily inhaled the sip of hot chocolate she had just taken, spluttering as she whipped her head around to see James Potter – the boy she had just been talking about – walking towards her across the common room, still wearing his Quidditch robes, hair messier than ever and those greeny-golden hazel eyes staring right at her.
When did he get back here?! How much did he hear?!
“Excuse me?” choked Lily, leaning forward in her armchair while trying to clear her lungs of hot chocolate. She could feel her cheeks reddening to the same shade as her hair and she was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat.
Apparently ignoring her question, James unclasped his robes and rested both them and his broomstick against the side of Lily’s chair, before perching on the arm of the sofa next to her. As he did, Lily tried – and failed – not to let her eyes appraise how very complimentary his Quidditch jumper was for his shoulders and how all-too-inappropriately, in Lily’s opinion, well-fitting his Quidditch trousers were.
I am actually doomed, she thought, mentally thanking whatever gods there were that Marlene wasn’t there to watch this; she was already enjoying far too much the fact that Lily had started to catch feelings for James right after he’d seemingly stopped making it clear that he had any to share in return.
“Come here, you,” James cooed softly, startling Lily back to reality.
Lily’s eyes widened as James leaned toward her, holding his hands out, palms facing upward invitingly.
What. The. Fudge. He heard me talking about him. He heard and he’s…beckoning me to him?
Dropping her gaze to his outstretched hands, Lily’s heart rate increased further still. Against the handle of her mug, her fingers twitched unconsciously for want of setting it down and becoming enveloped within James’ own much longer ones.
“Wha-?” Lily started, while trying- and once again failing – not to imagine how warm his hands probably are and how much smaller hers would look against his.
Honestly, Lily. How has it come to this?
Before she could finish gathering her thoughts enough to finish her question, or worse, actually act upon her suddenly unstoppable desires, a tiny ginger paw beat her to the test.
Lily stared blankly for a beat, before comprehension dawned on her, bringing with it a further flush of red to her cheeks.
For Merlin’s sake, Lily. He’s talking to his cat. Not you. His cat.
Releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, Lily looked down to see James’ cat, Marmalade – the cat that had been napping in her lap all evening and to whom Lily had been musing out loud about her complex feelings for James – had woken up and was fixing her owner with her intense, orange gaze.
Normally Marmalade avoided everyone except James, but that evening she had padded straight over to Lily and plonked herself down in her lap with a soft purr, where she’d stayed for hours while Lily worked on her Potions essay.
Even after the essay was done, Lily had been loath to move, feeling content to sit and watch the world go by, drinking the hot chocolate she’d been keeping warm with a heat charm and combing her fingers through Marmalade’s fur until she was the last one in the common room.
As was usually the case, the silence had made her chatty, and with no one else there to judge her for her delayed feelings for one Mr James Fleamont Potter, she’d started thinking aloud to her furry companion.
Lily watched as James rubbed the pad of his thumb over Marmalade's paw, experiencing as she did a mixture of humour, embarrassment and, ridiculously, disappointment.
You’re jealous of a cat, Lily. You need help.
Stretching languidly, Marmalade unfurled herself from Lily’s lap, placing a second paw in James’ palm before leaping straight onto his chest.
James caught her with both hands, leaning back against the sofa and laughing as she nuzzled her face against his neck, first this way, then the other.
“I missed you too, Marms,” he told her, stroking his fingers behind her ears. Marmalade purred contentedly, folding herself neatly into James’ arms and closing her eyes once again.
Lily watched as James smiled lovingly at his cat, cheeks still flushed from Quidditch practise.
Sweet wasn’t often a word one would use to describe James Potter. Confident, if not occasionally arrogant. Troublesome, cheeky, fiercely loyal, impulsive, charismatic, passionate. Not sweet.
Except he was sweet. At least, he could be sometimes. And Marmalade always got his sweet side.
It wasn’t uncommon to find groups of girls in the common room squeeing over how adorable James – Quidditch superstar, prankster extraordinaire, mischievous to the point of being dangerous – Potter was with his cat, desperately trying to entice the feline over in the hope that James might follow and be sweet to them too.
Lily used to find it pathetic, but now there she was, just as bad as them, insides practically melting to the consistency of actual marmalade and secretly wishing it was she who was the one snuggled into James Potter’s chest, purring as he stroked her all over....
“Alright there, Evans?” James asked, suddenly snapping her out of her reverie. “You’re looking a bit flushed.”
Lily’s eyes found James’, her cheeks darkening ever more as she took in what felt to her like a knowing smile. His eyes were warm but there was a glint of mischief in them that made her stomach flip.
Merlin help me if he’s a bloody Occlumens.
Clearing her throat, Lily leaned forward to place her mug on the table and rubbed her palms along her thighs, suddenly feeling nervous and strangely guilty for having been caught in the act of ogling the boy whose advances she’d shot down so many times.
“I, er, I’m fine,” she hesitated, trying to arrange her face into a more nonchalant expression. “It’s just hot in here, isn’t it? And you made me jump, so…”
Lily mentally rolled her eyes.
Can’t even finish a sentence around him anymore.
James’ lips twitched, almost turning up into a smirk, but not quite making it that far. He shrugged and shifted Marmalade into a more comfortable position in his arms.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” James said. “It’s late, I didn’t think anyone would still be up at this time. If it’s any consolation, you still look cute with hot chocolate on your chin.”
“Oh my god, what?!” Lily glared at him, mortified, her hands going straight to her chin, trying to feel where the offending chocolate was.
Wait, he thinks I’m cute? What does that mean? Didn’t he describe a blast-ended skrewt as ‘kind of cute from a certain angle’ the other day???
Laughing now, James moved a reluctant Marmalade to his lap and produced his wand from his back pocket.
Still perched on the edge of the sofa, he leaned closer to Lily, gently grasping one of her wrists to pull her hand away from her chin. Lily tried not to pay unnecessary attention to how warm his touch was, nor how his Quidditch-calloused fingers were able to wrap around her entire wrist, nor how good he smelled - all pine trees and broomstick polish and…James.
“Here,” he said. James casually flicked his wand once and Lily felt his spell clean her face.”All gone.”
As James lifted his gaze back to Lily’s, she could swear his eyes paused on her lips for a beat longer than they needed to.
But at this rate, you could just be fantasising, Lily.
“Thanks,” Lily breathed, excruciatingly aware of how close he suddenly seemed. “You didn’t need to… I mean, I could have done that…”
James shrugged, suddenly releasing her wrist and putting his wand away, before running his hand through his messy hair. Lily resisted the urge to bite her lip. She used to find it irritating when he did that, now she found it inexplicably attractive.
The silence crackled between them for a moment or two before James, with an unreadable look in his eye, broke it.
“I see Marms has made a new friend.” His tone was light, but Lily couldn’t help wondering how much of her inner turmoil he’d heard her impart to his beloved cat. “You’re very honoured, she doesn’t like most people. Especially Padfoot.”
Lily’s heart leapt a little; she and her friends had grown close to the boys – James, Sirius, Remus and Peter – over the last year, but she had only recently been let in on the meaning of the nicknames she’d heard them use for each other.
Of course, much to their surprise, she had known about Remus’ “furry little problem” for a long time.
“Wait, you know?!” Remus had cried, his face pale.
“How could you possibly know, Evans? And who else knows?” Sirius had barked, dark eyes suddenly suspicious.
James hadn’t spoken, but watched her intensely, different emotions flickering over his face.
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you boys, but you are not subtle,” Lily had explained. “Contrarily, I’m very observant. It didn’t take much to put two and two together” she had continued. “But don’t worry, as far as I’m aware, I’m the only one who knows, and I would never tell a soul, Remus, I promise you. I didn’t ever tell you I knew because I figured if you wanted me to know you would tell me yourself.”
But she’d had no idea about the other three, (“You did what ?!” she had shrieked at James, stuck somewhere between incredulous and awestruck ), so whenever they used the nicknames it was a welcome reminder that they felt comfortable enough to be themselves around her now.
“She has good taste,” Lily replied, returning to the present and trying to match James’ lighthearted tone. She felt a pang of regret though; it wasn’t lost on her that if James had heard even some of what she’d said to his cat this evening, then she was being a lot less honest with him than he had been with her.
Lily glanced down at Marmalade, who was now curled into James’ stomach as he gently stroked her fur.
‘Yes, she does,” James agreed after a pause, his voice quiet.
For a moment, Lily enjoyed having the freedom to watch James as he scratched the back of Marmalade’s head without him looking back at her, drinking in his windswept hair, a shadow of stubble running across his sharp jawline, hazel eyes almost like butterbeer in the cosy glow of the Gryffindor common room fire.
James’ eyes snapped back up to Lily’s, taking her by surprise. She felt a pull in her stomach, words leaping to escape her mouth.
She was torn between wanting to tell him everything that she’d told Marmalade…how she feels like there’s this weird energy when he’s around her, how she misses him when he’s not there, how she’s sorry that she called him an arrogant, bullying toerag, how she’s in awe of his Transfiguration skills, how she loves that he wears his heart on his sleeve, how she admires his bravery, how she craves his bone-crushing hugs, how she feels like she’s flying when she makes him laugh, how she adores how much of a loyal friend he is, how she sees how kind he is to first years and how it makes her insides melt, how she absolutely cannot deal with how good he looks in his Quidditch robes, how she is insanely attracted to the way he does this clenching thing with his jaw when he’s concentrating, how she’s feels safe around him, how she really wants to run her hands through his hair to see if it feels as soft as it looks, how she’d like to see for herself whether he really is a phenomenal snog if only so that she can stop wondering about whether he’s simply putting some sort of spell on every girl he snogs to get them to sing his praises, how she’s scared of telling him how she feels because she doesn’t want it to change their friendship, how she’s sorry that it took her so long to realise what this probably all means and now it’s probably too late because he doesn’t ever ask her out anymore and she’s seen how Catherine Whatshername looks at him these days and honestly who is she to get in the way of James’ happiness after all the times she said no to him…
…and also wanting to say something sarcastic or dismissive to end this strange electricity charged interaction, so that she could go back to pining in private.
“James, I-”
“Look, Lil-”
They both spoke at the same time, both stopping to let the other speak. James let out a soft laugh, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
“Go on,” he said, gesturing to Lily.
“No, no, you first,” she countered, green eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
James sighed, ruffling his hair once again and pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.
“Ah, look, Lily,” he began, faltering again as he scratched the back of his neck. James glanced down at Marmalade for a second before meeting her eyes once more, a renewed determination burning in his gaze. “We’re friends now, yes?”
Lily nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going.
“And you don’t hate me anymore?” James asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I never actually hated you, I just found you…annoying,” Lily argued, brushing her hair over her right shoulder and starting to twirl some strands around her finger - an unconscious habit she did, James knew, when she was nervous or concentrating hard.
“Fair enough, you don’t find me annoying anymore, then?” James continued, a glimmer of humour in his eyes.
“Well, I don’t know if I can categorically say that you never annoy me, but yes, generally, I don’t find you too annoying,” Lily consented, squirming a little under James’ intense gaze. His eyes were darker now, almost mocha coloured.
“So it would be fair to say that your feelings have changed for me over the past year, correct?” James proposed, a smirk dancing on his lips, eyes still boring into Lily’s.
“That would be a fair assessment, yes,” Lily agreed slowly, desperately hoping her cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.
James nodded, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw.
Ah, the sexy jaw clench, Merlin give me strength.
“Well, the thing is” James started, suddenly a lot closer to her than she had noticed him getting. He was right on the edge of the sofa now, one arm braced on the arm of her chair, practically leaning over her like a bird of prey.
Lily’s heartbeat was in her ears, her breath hitching as James’ eyes flicked to her lips before burning into hers again.
“The thing is,” James continued, eyes blazing. “My feelings haven’t changed for you.”
Lily was pretty sure she had stopped breathing, trapped under James’ fixed, confident stare. Ears ringing, lips tingling, she had an overwhelming desire to reach up, grab a fistful of his scarlet Quidditch jumper and pull his face down to hers.
But before she could move, before she could even blink, James had straightened up and hopped lithely to his feet with Marmalade cradled in his arms.
‘So,” James said, his tone suddenly airy as he walked around Lily’s chair to collect his discarded robes and broomstick. “Just so you know, when you’re ready to talk to me about your new feelings instead of my dear cat here, I will be very willing to listen.”
Lily exhaled, her mouth dropping open slightly.
Shit shit shit. He did hear me.
“Wha-” Lily stuttered, trying to think of something clever to say to save herself, and failing miserably. She attempted to rally herself, watching in disbelief as he started to walk over to the boy’s dormitory staircase. “Um, wait, how much did you hear exactly?”
“Enough,” James replied, over his shoulder.
Fuck. Me.
“Any time, Lily,” James called, now with one foot on the bottom stair. “Literally any time.”
Did I say that out loud?!
“Ugh!” Lily cried, burying her face in her hands, wishing her armchair would just swallow her up.
“Oh, and Lily?” James asked. Lily peeked through her fingers to see that James had turned to face her.
“What?” she replied reluctantly, her cheeks burning under her hands.
“My hair really is as soft as it looks,” he said, winking at her. “Can’t wait for you to have a feel for yourself.”
“Oh piss off, Potter,” Lily grumbled, throwing a cushion at him and trying to clear her mind of the image of snogging this insufferable boy senseless, fingers buried in his ridiculous bedhead hair.
James dodged the cushion by jumping up onto the next stair up.
“Blimey, Evans,” James stressed her surname, mocking playfully. “I’ll need to get you to try out for Chaser with an aim like that. You do love to see me in my Quidditch robes, after all…”
“Go to bed, Potter!” Lily all but shrieked. “Or I’ll aim a hex at you instead.”
“Good night, Lily,” James called after a beat of silence, his voice softer now. Lily braved another glance in his direction, “I meant what I said, I’m ready whenever you are.”
With that, James disappeared up the stairs to his dormitory, cat, broomstick and robes in tow.
Lily sat in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the space where James had just been standing, his words ringing in her ears.
Quaffle’s in your court, then, Lily, she thought to herself. That motherfudging Marmalade.