Ok ok jily #15 (that number was made for them)
15: Loud, so everyone can hear (prompts list here)
Lily has never found the enormous double doors quite so–daunting.
Like–honestly, they’re just…doors. Colossal slabs of ancient wood that separate the main hallway from the Great Hall, yes, but they’re still just doors. They can’t–they can’t hurt her.
Her heart still thunders painfully, though.
“So, like,” James says conversationally, “I mean–we’re doing this, aren’t we? Telling everyone we’re official, in a very dramatic manner worthy of Sirius? Yes? We’re doing this?”
He’s rambling again, the way he does when he’s nervous. Lily thinks it’s a little nice, actually, to know that that makes two of them.
She nudges his shoulder. “Of course we are. But we’re not married yet, or whatever else you plan to try to do, so you’d better watch your step, Potter.”
“Yet?” James repeats, one eyebrow arching, and Lily has to smile. Really, it’s hard not to smile when she’s with James.
She reaches out and takes his hand, and the warmth from his palm seeps into her own. In this moment, she thinks perhaps all of him is seeping into her.
Well. She supposes that’s just how much she…loves him, to trust him with her whole being, her very soul, like this.
They exchange one last nervous smile before they step into the Great Hall together, hand in hand, shoulders straight, beaming into the silence. The silence, because–the laughter and chatter and clamor of fork against plate have all ceased.
It’s dead, dead silent. Silent as the grave. All eyes are trained on them, and then–
Half of the Gryffindor table stands up. There’s applause and cheers and whistles and more cheers, and Sirius is shouting, “I knew it!” A smile is splitting his face practically in half. “Knew something was going on. Called it, I did!”
“Is that James Potter?” A whisper, from the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff tables. In the sudden chaos, it’s hard to tell. “WIth Lily Evans? How’d he get her?”
“With my charismatic personality and dashing good looks,” James mutters, and Lily finds herself smiling again.
Then he says–or rather, he bellows, really, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Yes, everyone. We’re going out. We’re in love, actually. And, yes, I’d move mountains for her, and–and fight the sun, or whatever other poetic bullshit there is. I’d do all of it. For her. That’s it. That’s all. Please feel free to return to your meal and stop fucking ogling us at any moment in the very near future.”
This statement seems to make everyone else realize the fact of their rude stares, and their attention is redirected to their breakfasts, and rather meekly, too.
Later, when they’ve found seats next to Remus and Sirius and Peter, Lily says, “You’re too scrawny to be able to move mountains, Potter.”
James grins back. “Really? You think so?” he challenges. “You want to bet?”
“Five Galleons,” Lily offers.
“All right, then. Seven Galleons. You are on, Evans.”
The next morning, James conjures a miniature replica of the Sierra Nevada mountain range in America. It’s probably two feet or so long, made out of plastic and beautifully rendered, and Lily’s about to step over it, but James kneels down beside it and pushes it out of the way for her.
Lily doesn’t give him seven Galleons, but she does laugh till her eyes leak and her stomach feels as if it’s caving in. And she showers him in a lot more than seven kisses, too.