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Lily Evans prided herself on being sensible. Logical. A cool head in a sea of Gryffindor impulsivity. She never swooned, never simpered, and most certainly never gave James Potter the time of day beyond what was necessary. He was loud, arrogant, messy-haired, and absolutely convinced the sun shone out of his -
Well, it didn’t.
She prided herself on her ability to ignore James Potter.
Well, mostly ignore James Potter.
She just… noticed him more lately. That’s all.
Noticed the way he pushed his sleeves up to the elbow during Transfiguration, forearms ink-stained and freckled. Noticed how he ruffled his hair less these days - unless he was nervous, and then it was back with a vengeance. Noticed how he hadn’t asked her out since spring of last year.
That last one surprised her most.
He hadn’t pestered, hadn’t even called out to her in months. He’d just… let her be. It should have been a relief.
But now, strangely, it wasn’t.
It was just... weird.
And maybe a little disappointing.
Not that she cared.
She didn’t.
(Probably.)
It started during a late-night patrol. The castle had quieted into the comforting creaks and sighs of sleeping stone. She and James walked side by side, and for once, he wasn’t filling the silence with tales of Quidditch heroics or declarations of eternal devotion. Instead, he was talking about his mum’s Christmas pudding recipe and how Sirius always pretended to hate it, but nicked three helpings when no one was looking.
She’d laughed. A real one, the kind that made her cheeks ache.
He’d turned to look at her then, hazel eyes warm and crinkled at the edges with amusement. 'You’ve got a nice laugh, Evans.'
Her heart had stuttered. Just once.
She wrote it off as indigestion.
Today, she had almost ignored him in the corridor. He’d been showing off a trick with a Snitch - letting it disappear into his sleeve and emerge behind someone’s ear like a magician’s dove. It was silly, childish, and somehow managed to make the first-year watching him burst into shrieks of laughter. Lily had meant to roll her eyes and keep walking.
But then he’d grinned.
Wide and lopsided, cheeks dimpling just so, and something fluttered in her chest like she’d swallowed a Snidget.
She frowned.
That was… odd.
The fluttering happened again two days later in Charms, when James leaned back in his seat - two rows ahead of her - and accidentally caught her eye. He didn’t smirk or wink. He just looked , warm and golden and stupidly sunlit despite the enchanted ceiling’s steady drizzle. Her heart gave a funny, treacherous thump .
She dropped her quill.
Marlene, to her right, glanced at her. 'You okay?'
'Fine,' Lily said quickly. She looked back at the parchment she’d been writing on, only to realise she’d doodled a tiny pair of glasses in the margin.
Oh no.
It kept happening.
They’d been paired together for a Transfiguration assignment - McGonagall’s idea of House unity, no doubt - and Lily had expected to carry the weight of it. But James had been sharp, focused, wand precise. He’d even gently corrected her when she muttered the wrong incantation under her breath, without a hint of mockery.
Then he’d said, 'You always furrow your brow when you're thinking. It’s cute.'
Her stomach flipped.
Absolutely not.
She glared at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched before she could stop it.
Innocent moments , that’s what they were. Harmless.
Like the time she caught him defending a second-year from Mulciber’s looming shadow near the library - James had stood tall, wand out but not aggressive, protective in a way that made Lily's stomach do a little somersault. Or the time he gave Sirius his last chocolate frog without comment, just a soft smile, as if it were nothing.
And then there were the times he was just… ridiculous.
Like now.
Lily sat at the Gryffindor table, watching him try to flip a pancake onto Sirius’s plate using only magic. The pancake arced beautifully into the air, hovered…
And then landed squarely on Remus’s head.
James howled with laughter. Sirius roared. Even Remus chuckled as he peeled the offending breakfast off his curls.
Lily felt something slide sideways in her chest, and, against her better judgement, she smiled.
Marlene elbowed her. 'Caught you.'
'I was laughing at him,' Lily lied.
'You were smiling like he just gave you a kitten.'
'No I wasn’t.'
'You so were.'
Lily glared. 'It was a very stupid display.'
Marlene gave her a look. 'Sure it was.'
And that’s when it hit her.
'Oh,' she whispered.
Oh no.
One night in the common room, Lily caught him helping a first-year with their Charms homework.
She stopped, just short of the staircase, and watched as he crouched beside the kid’s chair, explaining a pronunciation trick with slow, patient gestures. The boy beamed.
And James? He just ruffled the kid’s hair and walked away without fanfare.
Lily stood there, stunned.
Mary caught her expression. 'You look like someone hit you with a Confundus.'
'I might be cursed.'
'Why?'
'I just saw James Potter being sweet .'
Mary smirked. 'Ah.'
'No - no, don’t ‘ah’ me.'
'Too late.'
That night, Lily stared at the ceiling of her dorm bed and admitted something dark and terrifying to herself.
She liked him.
Not in the silly, fluttery, ‘he’s handsome’ kind of way - though, fine, yes , he was that too. But in a way that had depth. That unsettled her. That tugged on her insides like a hook.
She was doomed.
It wasn’t just the silly things.
While it had become abundantly clear he was full off goodness for the general student body, he certainly hadn’t neglected Lily.
James holding the portrait hole open for her with a cheeky bow. James tossing her a chocolate frog after Herbology and telling her she looked like she needed a win. James defending a flustered first-year from Snape’s sharp tongue.
And the worst one - James in the common room, utterly disheveled, hair even messier than usual, glasses askew, with a sleeping Peter on one side and Remus half-draped on the other, his eyes closed as he listened to Sirius read aloud from Hogwarts: A History in a terrible French accent.
Lily had stood frozen in the doorway for a solid minute, heart thudding like she’d run from the Great Hall.
Why is your heart fluttering, Lily?
She didn’t have an answer.
He had become thoughtful . He always had an extra quill in class, even when it wasn’t for her. How he didn’t make a fuss when Remus forgot a meeting and gently covered for him. Or the way he stood up to Mulciber without making it a duel.
He was - ugh. Responsible now.
Grown-up. In a James Potter sort of way. Still a bit wild around the edges, like the wind hadn’t quite worn him down, but… softer, too.
Lily didn’t know when she’d started liking that about him.
But she had .
And that was a problem.
She didn’t say anything for a day. Or two. She watched him joke and laugh and trip over his own feet racing to Herbology. Watched him scratch his head with ink-stained fingers during Transfiguration. Watched him grin at her and wave - actually wave - across the courtyard like a dork.
And every time, her heart reacted like it had a mind of its own.
It came to a head one rainy afternoon when James was being… well, himself. They were in the library, of all places, because apparently James Potter could be studious when he thought no one was looking.
Except she was looking.
He was flipping through a book on defensive enchantments, muttering to himself and chewing absently on a Sugar Quill. His hair was damp from the rain, curling at the ends, and his tie was askew. She wasn’t even pretending to study anymore. Her quill lay idle, parchment forgotten.
James looked up and caught her staring.
He grinned.
She dropped her inkpot.
As they both scrambled to clean the spill, their hands brushed. Her fingers sparked like she’d touched a live wire. She yanked her hand back, heartbeat galloping.
James raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.
She left the library in a daze.
It hit her like a Bludger to the ribs an hour later in the girls’ dormitory, while Mary and Marlene argued over who'd eaten the last of the chocolate biscuits.
Lily sat bolt upright in bed.
'Oh,' she whispered. Then again, louder, voice rising with horror: 'Oh no.'
So she cracked.
'Marlene,' Lily hissed, tugging her into an alcove near the staircase. 'Help.'
'What, did you murder someone? Because I’m not great at corpse disposal, but - '
'I think I fancy James Potter.'
Marlene blinked. '...Like, our James Potter?'
'Yes!' Lily rubbed her temples. 'How did this happen ?'
'I mean…' Marlene tilted her head. 'He got hot.'
'He did not! ' Lily snapped, then hesitated. 'Well. Maybe a little. But that’s not the point!'
'What is the point?'
'I don’t want to like him.'
'But you do ?'
Lily groaned and slumped against the wall. 'It’s like my heart didn’t get the memo. I keep… noticing him. And smiling. And - and when he laughs, it’s like the sun came out and - ugh , who even am I ?'
'Someone falling for James Potter,' Marlene said smugly.
Lily slapped her arm.
Coming to terms with it was a process.
There were stages. Denial ('I just admire his dedication.'), Anger ('Why does he have to be funny and thoughtful and occasionally heroic?'), Bargaining ('Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away.'), and finally, Acceptance.
James Potter had somehow snuck past her walls and made himself at home in her chest. The realization was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
'I told you,' Mary said later that evening in the dormitory, twirling her wand. 'He wears you down like water against a rock.'
'He did not wear me down,' Lily grumbled, face buried in her pillow.
'He stopped being a knob, didn’t he?'
'He tries to be a knob. He fails sometimes now, that’s all.'
'And that’s why you’re doodling hearts on your notes?' Mary lifted a page Lily had abandoned.
'Traitor,' Lily muttered.
'I’m just saying,' Mary sang. 'You could do a lot worse.'
Lily didn’t respond. Mostly because she knew . Merlin help her, she knew .
The next day, she resolved to test the waters.
Not outright flirtation - she wasn’t ready to cross that line - but something... softer.
She sat near him in the common room. Not next to , but within the golden glow of his laughter. She listened to him argue about Chudley Cannons vs Puddlemere United with Peter, rolled her eyes at his ridiculous claims, and smirked when he caught her watching.
'You’ve got a tell,' he said suddenly, catching her off guard.
Lily blinked. 'A what?'
James leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. 'You smile when you’re trying not to.'
She raised a brow. 'So do you.'
He grinned. 'Touché.'
She looked away before he could see her blush.
Two days later, she did sit next to him - for a group project in Defense.
He smelled like soap and ink and some faint woodsy cologne that made her throat tighten. He muttered clever observations under his breath, scribbled runes with ease, and when their hands brushed over the same textbook, he froze.
So did she.
Neither of them moved.
He looked at her then, properly, the laughter replaced by something quieter. Softer. She swallowed.
'I like working with you,' he said.
Lily didn’t respond - couldn’t. Her tongue was frozen, her mind blank.
She only nodded.
Later that night, she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
This was not supposed to happen.
He was loud and cocky and far too charming for his own good. He teased her. He messed up his hair constantly and talked about Quidditch too much and had the emotional subtlety of a Bludger.
And yet…
And yet.
When he held doors open for her, when he shared his notes without asking for anything in return, when he complimented her spells with honest admiration in his eyes -
Lily bit her lip.
She was screwed.
'Just tell him,' Marlene said a week later.
'I can’t just - walk up to James Potter and say, ‘Hi, I think I love you despite having spent past couple years routinely rejecting you.’'
'Why not?'
'Because he’ll gloat! And smirk. And be impossible !'
'Or maybe,' Mary said gently, 'he’ll just be happy.'
Lily groaned.
'What if I’m wrong? What if it’s just a phase or - or a fluke or - '
'Lils.' Mary took her hand. 'You haven’t shut up about him in days .'
'That’s not true.'
'You sighed at the sight of his hair this morning.'
'I did not.'
'You did,' Marlene said, grinning. 'It was embarrassing.'
Lily buried her face in her hands.
When it finally happened, it wasn’t planned.
She found James in the Astronomy Tower on a Tuesday evening, sitting alone with a book, of all things, his glasses slipping down his nose.
'Hi,' she said before she could stop herself.
He looked up, startled. 'Evans! Fancy seeing you here.'
'Studying?'
'Trying to. Moony recommended this one.'
She hovered awkwardly, heart hammering. 'Mind some company?'
'Never.'
She sat beside him. The silence stretched comfortably between them. The stars blinked overhead. And James, for once, wasn’t trying to impress her. He was just… there .
'I like you,' she said.
He turned slowly. 'What?'
'I like you,' Lily repeated, her voice steadier now. 'And it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.'
James stared at her.
'Say something,' she prompted.
He blinked. 'Are you - are you sure ?'
'Unfortunately.'
He laughed. Laughed like he didn’t know what else to do, and then said, 'Bloody hell.'
'I knew you’d gloat,' she muttered.
'I’m not gloating! I’m - Merlin, Lily, I’ve fancied you for years .'
'I know.'
'And now you - ?' His voice cracked.
'Against my better judgment,' she said, smiling, 'yes.'
James opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he looked at her, really looked at her, and his whole face softened.
'You’re not joking.'
'No.'
'Can I - ?' He hesitated, gesturing slightly.
She leaned in and kissed him before he could finish the question.
When she pulled back, James looked completely stunned. And over the moon.
'Merlin’s pants,' he whispered.
'Don’t make it weird.'
'You just kissed me.'
'Don’t let it go to your head.'
He grinned, wide and disbelieving. 'Too late.'
She rolled her eyes. 'Told you. Terrible idea.'
And yet, when he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, Lily thought maybe - just maybe - it was the best one she’d ever had.