when james deflates his head and matures a bit, he actually manages to become friends with lily evans
like, really good friends who have comfortable conversations and make each other laugh, and it’s great, really great
but there’s a problem: james is still in love with her
like, crazily in love and he tries to hide it, but he automatically smiles when she walks into the room, and his eyes soften when he sees her, and his gaze flickers to her lips when she speaks and he cannot help it
and it is painfully obvious to literally everybody… except lily
she somehow remains oblivious to the fact that the boy who is quickly becoming one of her closest friends just wants to hold her and run his hands through her hair and tell her every day how desperately in love with her he is
(he also wants to push her against a wall and snog her senseless, but that’s neither here nor there)
and james can accept things as they are because lily really doesn’t see him in that way and he’s not going to risk losing what they have
so he just swallows his feelings and feels like he’s dying a little every day, no big deal
but then they’re all in the three broomsticks, squeezed into a smaller booth than normal, and when james ends up next to lily, he’s positive the universe hates him and he’s going to go mad because he’s never been so close to her in his life and it’s simultaneously ecstasy and torture
but he manages to play it cool because lily seem completely unperturbed by their proximity (damn)
what he doesn’t realise, because she manages to play it cool too, is that lily is actually very aware that james is pressed up against her; they’re literally shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee
and it gives her tingles
‘oh,’ she thinks. then it clicks. oh. oh no
because it suddenly hits her that maybe the way she’s been thinking about james lately, like admiring his physique in his quidditch uniform or the cute way he adjusts his glasses or the captivating way he runs his fingers through his hair, hasn’t been exactly platonic
and now it’s all she can think about; he’s all she can think about
and suddenly it’s her turn to try and hide the fact that she’s in love
she does about as a good a job of it as james does
and he does about as a good a job as her at being oblivious
(everyone else in the school is going mad)
at the next hogsmeade visit, when they somehow end up alone together because everyone else is conveniently busy, they both try not to make too big a deal about it and fail horribly because it’s a massive deal when you’re in love with the person sitting across the table from you and shit, did this count as a date?
but they’re still friends, so they somehow manage to get through lunch despite the romantic and sexual tension between them
then james steals some of lily’s food
“oi!” she moves to slap the back of his hand, but it’s too late and he laughs as he comes away with a handful of chips
she shoots him a murderous glare which just makes him laugh harder and she adores the sound of his laughter so she laughs, too
she shakes her head. “you’re incorrigible!”
“you love it,” he jokes
“i love you,” she says
shit shit shit
they’ve both frozen; james has forgotten how to breathe and lily is wishing she could sink through the floor
“do…” he starts, but trails off because he’s scared, terrified, of finishing the question, because maybe she’ll give him an answer he doesn’t want to hear
and lily does briefly consider taking it back; she knows she could add, ‘as a friend!’ to the end of that sentence and they could pretend it never happened and everything would go back to the way it was and they could stay friends
except she’s so bloody sick of being his friend, she’s so tired of pretending that friendship with james potter is enough for her when it isn’t, it’s never going to be enough
so she takes a deep breath before whispering, “yes.”
she watches in awe as a familiarly warm grin spreads slowly across his face
“you’re the only person i’ve ever been in love with,” he finally admits and when her face lights up, it feels like he’s swallowed a sun
Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. But James works in a coffee shop, and every time he sees colour there’s an annoying customer there too (AKA a coffee shop and soulmate au fic in one because i have no chill).
“One frozen mocha to go!”
It’s second nature to him now, as quick and easy as breathing. In one swift movement, James grabs hold of the milk carton, ready to pour it into the blender. He hears the door to the cafe open, a chilly breeze ruthlessly following a handful of students who scrabble inside as it begins to rain.
It’s then that it happens. The milk drops to the floor as he stares, perplexed, at the colour of his hand. It’s like the weight of an avalanche crumbles on top of him, an invisible weight pressing hard on his shoulders. Before he even realises, his legs are like jelly and he’s falling.
“James? Are you alright?” a voice asks.
He feels a hand pressed against his back, the sound of someone’s concerned voice muffled against his ear. He tries to say something, but all he can manage is an intense gasp for air as his legs shake once more.
He can see.
Not that he couldn’t before… but he can see.
Colours are everywhere, blinding and intense. They’re beautiful, so vibrant that it’s making his head spin.
He’s staring at white tiles, chestnut coloured cabinets. It feels like he’s on fire and, more than anything, he wishes he could stand, to just look around the place to see who is making him like this.
Of course, he’s read the stories like everyone else. Lullabies that dated back long before they even had a name. Fairy-tales of people who, like everyone else, saw the world in a lens, the colour of life squeezed out. There was only one person who could help to retrieve that colour back into your life.
James blinks, his heart now slowing to a calm, even beat. He breathes in deeply, relishing the peaceful feeling that washes over him. The owner of the hand speaks again and rubs the place between his shoulder blades tentatively, asking if he needs an ambulance.
He shakes his head, finally looking up at Remus.
“Can you stand?” Remus asks, taking hold of James’ shaking hand and pulling him to his feet. He wobbles for a split second and reaches out to grasp hold of the counter with both arms. His fingers grip onto the support for dear life.
He swallows, a nauseating bubble rippling throughout his intestines and threatening to shoot up his throat. He breathes in, counting to ten. Slow and easy, he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the wooden counter and cautiously glances around cafe.
The colours are dazzling; blues, reds, greens, all different shades and intensities. They’re all so vivid and intense that it feels like the ground’s shaking beneath him. The place is heaving with students, all wet due to the unexpected stormy April shower and James tries to look at as many as he can, searching desperately for someone who seems just as unsettled and surprised as him.
Everyone seems normal. How can that be? Colour’s just flown into every crevice of their being… and they don’t care?
There are too many voices, people ordering, grabbing their coffees and other beverages and talking aimlessly with one another. Amidst the chatter and the whirring noises from the coffee machines, the sound of the door opening reaches his ears. A freezing wind enters, the chilly kind that makes the hairs on his arms stand up on edge.
And then, just like that, his world is drained of colour.
they are two red-haired women, one pureblood and one muggleborn, but neither of them care because blood does not matter
(except that it does. except that this whole stupid war is about blood)
they are two red-haired women with the future of the wizarding world growing in their bellies
and this is how it goes
gideon and fabian prewett go into the ground that day
molly, the last remaining prewett, feels like she’s drowning
(and although she is now a weasley, she will always be a prewett)
arthur’s hand in hers reminds her that she is not alone (far from it, in fact), but it does not ease the pain, the grief of losing all that was left of her family in one fell swoop
there is a stream of endless platitudes and consolations, so repetitive and meaningless that they blend into one another
(and she feels awful for the ones she has offered in the past)
(sometimes words mean so little)
she tries to tune it all out. sometimes she mutters, ‘thank you,’ towards her feet, but mostly she is silent
‘when are you due?’
it is the only question that cuts through because it is so thoroughly unexpected, especially at a funeral
looking up, she meets a pair of brilliant green eyes, softened with sympathy in this moment
(but she knows just by looking at her that this woman can be hard, so hard and strong when she wants to be)
(and behind the woman stands a tall, bespectacled man with black hair, wilder and messier than hair really has a right to be, and she knows immediately that they are lily and james potter, who gideon and fabian talked about because of how bright and brave and in love they are)
when she does not answer, lily tries again, ‘you are pregnant, right? this isn’t some awful, social faux pas where i’ve asked a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not, right?’
james sniggers and lily elbows him in the stomach
(and she wonders about these two, clearly so young, too young, for war and for a baby and for merlin knows what else might be coming)
(but she sees the way he holds her hand reverently, and the way she looks up at him reproachfully, her eyes betraying her amusement and embarrassment, and how he smiles and she smiles back and molly may as well not be there because they are so in love and damn the war)
‘march,’ she eventually answers and the anxiety in lily’s face melts away
then molly casts her eyes downwards and smiles
‘august,’ she answers, glowing like only a woman who is creating life can
lily’s hand skims across her stomach, the instinctual action of a woman whose belly is full of baby
(and molly would know, she has patted her own belly too many times to count)
‘well, i guess our children will be going to hogwarts together, then,’ molly muses aloud
‘maybe they’ll be best friends,’ lily smirks
and, for a moment, molly feels lighter because it is so reassuring to talk about the future in this way, to think about her children growing up in a world where they’re safe and happy and blood doesn’t matter and they can be whatever they choose to be
‘potter and weasley,’ james is staring dreamily at the sky before dropping his gaze back down and grinning widely
‘hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
she never sees them again
her hands shake when she reads about them in the daily prophet
and she cries when she thinks about how they were bright and brave and so young
(too young and so in love)
(and now gone too soon)
she never forgets, but the memory does fade, the memory of meeting a vivacious couple on one of the worst days of her life and how they gave her hope for a future when the word future felt like taboo
and it doesn’t happen the way any of them had predicted, but it happens
because ron writes home in september 1991, talking about how he made friends with harry potter and how he stuffed himself silly on the hogwarts express because harry was generous and cool and being friends with him was easy and natural
so she thinks of lily and how she rubbed her belly, green eyes alight with hope
and she thinks of james and his cheeky grin and what he said that day
‘potter and weasley. hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her
face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint
and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.
count: ~2.4k words
the two loves of my life, who share this glorious day as their date of birth. I
love you to the moon and back. @bantasticbeasts@yulbos. (Also, thank you @ shawn for letting me
borrow your lyrics for the title. Could not have done this without u)
They were arguing again—Lily
can’t really remember what about, except that it hadn’t been exactly pretty. The second Lily’s insults became
directed at her brother-in-law, an awful man named Vernon Dursley, Petunia got
all angry and shrilly like usual, and then
Lily’s tongue got sharper, and –well.
Her sister had wanted to make a
point, and so it was only natural that when she implied Lily was unable to get a boyfriend of her own, which
was—supposedly—why she was so incredibly rude to Vernon, Lily would have
blurted out that she was in fact, in
a relationship, thank you very much.
In hindsight, Lily reckons she should
probably get a new mouth, one that waited for her to think before it started
talking. Wouldn’t that be fucking great.
When Lily comes home after school
one day, she finds her sister sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a
gossip magazine—either Ok! Magazine,Grazia or Marie Claire, she doesn’t really remember.
“You’re not really dating, are
you, Lily?” is the first thing Petunia asks her, with her nose turned up in
disgust as she stares down at her younger sister. “No respectable male would be
caught dead with you.”
Lily scoffs as Petunia places
down the magazine. “First of all, why do you assume it’s a guy when I’m as
bisexual as they come—“
“You’re confused, is what you
“—and secondly, I’m not messing with you. I have better things to do with
my time than find new and exciting ways to annoy you,” she replies, rolling her
A dangerous smirk dances on
Petunia’s lips, and as her eyes light up, she says, “bring him ‘round for
“I will,” replies Lily, staring
defiantly at her sister’s eyes, daring her to go ahead.
She watches as Petunia picks at
her impeccably manicured nails. “Next Saturday, at seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“We won’t,” Lily snaps, her voice
two octaves too high.
Petunia smiles, showing off her
pearly white teeth and perfectly hydrated lips.
She’s laying on top of Potter’s
bed, with her feet hanging off from the side and her face pressed into his
pillow. She lets out yet another long and pained whine, and then says, “what
have I done?”
“How should I know?” he replies
from the leather swivel chair, biting his lip and furrowing his brown in
concentration as he attempts a triple head combo on Ultimate Mecha Strike III.
“The only thing you’ve done since you got her was complain about a ruined life.
No clarification whatsoever.”
“It’s really bad. Like, worse than Sirius’-obsession-with-Gasolina-bad.”
He looks over at his bed and
pauses the game, carefully placing the remote control on his lap.
“Get on with it, then.”
“I may have…” Lily’s cheeks are
redder than her hair now, and for some reason, she can’t find it in her to face
She gasps for air before blurting
James, the idiot, throws his head
back and lets out the loudest bark of laughter, one that can only be rivalled
by Sirius’ that one time during the year eleven ball when they saw Dumbledore
roller-blading through the venue.
“It’s not funny, Potter,” she
huffs, because of course he’d revel in her agony.
“On the contrary, Evans, it’s
“She wants me to bring them over
for dinner this weekend,” adds Lily, looking absolutely miserable, and of
course, James replies by laughing even harder. “What am I going to do?”
He pauses to think for a second,
furiously running his hands through his hair, when suddenly, his eyes light up.
“What?” asks Lily,
“I could be your fake-boyfriend,”
James proposes, shrugging his shoulders like it isn’t that big of a deal. (It
Lily lets out a breath.
“This will really annoy Petunia,”
he prompts, licking his lips.
She looks down at his mouth, but
shifts her attention back to his eyes before replying, “so it’s settled then.”
James stretches his hand forward.
“Carved in stone.”
Lily takes it, and they both hold
on for slightly longer than necessary.
“Brilliant,” she nods. “Thank you
for doing this, Potter.”
“It’s no problem. I’ve always
liked a good ruse.”
It’s a shame, then, that in
reality Lily is completely infatuated with the bloke and would love nothing
more than to grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest closet. And,
when Algernon –Potter’s cat– comes in with a bacon sandwich, it almost feels
like he can sense how distraught Lily
is over the whole thing.
Much later in the day—Potter
invited her to stay over for dinner, because of course he did— they’re sat in his carpet, soaking up the moonlight,
a bottle of rum that James nicked from Euphemia’s cabinets swinging back and
forth between the pair of them.
“You were my first kiss, Potter,”
“You were mine, too.”
She tries convincing herself of
how lucky she got, because honestly, it’s quite the perfect set-up. They’ve
been mates for so long now, and she’s at his house more often than not, and he
took her as his date to his second-cousin’s wedding.
Still, there’s something tugging
at her heartstrings, but she vows to try her damn best to squash it. Whatever
butterflies she’s got going on have got to go.
At precisely seven o’clock, Lily
rings the doorbell, James at her side, holding her hand. When Petunia opens the
door, he tightens his hold on it.
The house looks just like always,
but tonight it feels even colder. It’s not particularly pleasant living with
Petunia and her husband, but even Lily is not used to the icy blue hue that
colours the kitchen. It’s the dead of winter and it almost feels like the weather is doing it on purpose. Maybe Petunia had
something to do with it—she’s always liked having connections.
Petunia greets the two of them
with a smile, a fake one, of course, and looks Potter up and down as if she’s
testing him, as if she’s testing them.
She can hear Vernon’s voice coming from the living room, rough and gravelly,
and Lily hates it, hates that she feels like an outsider in her own house.
James senses this, and presses a kiss on her left temple, all part of the act,
nothing short of bittersweet.
They make their way to the dining
table, calm and quiet, and James puts his arm around Lily’s shoulders, a silent
way of telling her he’s there and she can rely on him for support.
She knows. He is her best friend, after all.
Petunia serves them meatloaf and
mash, with green beans on the side. Vernon tucks right in, blissfully ignorant
to Lily and Petunia’s silent argument. Vernon Dursley is not dumb, but he’s
also not particularly clever, and Lily wishes that was the worst she had to say
Today, however, he’s not
important. What matters is that she and James make their sham of a relationship
seem believable enough.
It’s harder for her than it is
for him, she learns. He doesn’t have to think before reaching up to trace the
back of her hand, or to flick her on the nose. Lily guesses he must have loads
of practice in pretending, what with every ploy he pulls with the rest of the
Marauders, his brothers in everything but blood.
And so, because he knows Petunia, James doesn’t launch into
an elaborate story of how the two of them came to fall in love, and then into a
relationship. Instead, he sums it up in two quick sentences, tries to act as
normal as possible, and stares deep into Petunia’s eyes as if to say ‘I’m on her side.’
If Lily’s parents were here, it’d
be different, he’d be different, but
they aren’t. They aren’t—and well,
Lily finds it best not to dwell on such things. This is what she has to deal
with. This is her life now.
She is certain her sister can
feel the animosity radiating from James’ body. He’s tense, and Lily can feel
his leg jumping up and down in a failed attempt to let go of all the pent-up
energy. She places her hand on his thigh. He looks down, and then his eyes
trace the skin up her bare, freckled arm, to her exposed collarbone, to her
She’s all looks, Petunia is.
Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink
pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s
when Lily knows she’s in trouble.
“She saw right through us,” Lily
breathes, holding her head between her hands as she crouches down on Potter’s
“You don’t believe that.”
“I do,” Lily murmurs, and then
her silent sobs become louder and it doesn’t take long for her to be drowning
in her own tears. It’s a good thing his parents aren’t home.
“Hey, hey, hey,” James tells her, his voice so gentle that it’s barely even
there. “What’s wrong?”
She can’t really tell him, of
course. Can’t tell him the way it stings,
because he’s a damn good actor and she’s desperate for it to be real. It’s
overwhelming, and she’s tired, and she just wants to go home, but where even is that anymore? Certainly not at the
house, where she’s treated like absolute garbage, and has been for the better
part of two years.
“Lily?” he asks, running his
hands through his hair, making it even messier than usual, and Lily wishes it
could all just stop.
“I think I’m having a panic
attack,” she says, and realisation dawns upon James’ face. It doesn’t take long
for him to go into full-blown nurse mode. It’s not unusual for Lily to keel
over with anxiety. Now that he has a name for it, he knows how to deal with
it—he’s done so before.
“Lily,” he starts, slower this
time, “breathe with me, okay? We’ll count to ten.” In and out, in and out.
“You’re doing great, I’m right here.”
She closes her eyes and does as
she’s told, and eventually her head stops spinning and she clings onto James
like he’s her only lifeline. “Thank you,” she croaks out, and he shakes his
head and assures her that it was no problem.
“How can I help?” James asks,
carefully sitting next to her. Lily shrugs, at a complete loss about what to
do. He is, too, until an idea pops into his head, except it’s coming from a
place of wishful thinking, and so ridiculous that he doesn’t know if he should
Lily, of course, notices. “What
is it?” she asks, biting her lip so hard it could bleed.
“We could… um…”
“Yes?” she prods.
“We could practice,” James
coughs. “For when she’s around.” He can feel his flaming hot cheeks burn, but
when he sees the way Lily’s shoulders relax and her eyes light up, it’s worth
“You don’t have to do that,
James,” she tells him, in the quietest little voice. It’s sweet, and somewhat
hoarse, and he’s oh so very attracted to her.
“I don’t mind.”
She bites her lip again. “Are you
“Of course. Besides,” he presses,
“it’s not like we’ve never done it before.”
That was true. They’d been about
fourteen at the time. It had been right after school, and they were bored out
of their wits and wanted to get it over with.
“So there’s no reason for it to
be awkward,” Lily replies, excitement starting to bubble in her stomach.
“None at all.”
James nods. “I’m going to kiss
And so he does.
It’s been two months since the
beginning of their charade. Neither of them have been able to sleep, the fact
that this is only a ruse tugging at their brains, ripping at their insides. It
didn’t take much to convince Petunia, to be honest. She just… walked in on one
of their practice sessions and that
was it. That, of course, only meant that now they absolutely had to keep it going.
Besides, it’s not like they can
fake-break up to get it off their backs. No, Petunia’s annoying as is, it
simply wouldn’t do to add fuel to the flame. They’re too young to be prey.
It’s the beginning of March and
they’re back in his room, the colourful walls mocking their shared misery. In
the midst of the strained silence, Lily hears James mutter, “I can’t do this.”
“This,” he says, this time a
little louder, gesturing to the space between the two of them. “I can’t keep
this up anymore.”
He wouldn’t. He can’t. No.
“It was your idea!” she counters, panic starting to cloud her vision. She’s
desperate, scared out of her wits that this is their downfall. She can’t lose
him too, not him, she’s lost so much
“Yeah well,” he starts, and Lily
notices how he looks about to burst, “I thought I could ignore my feelings, but
I guess not, uh—“ his mouth clamps shut. He’s said too much, and there’s no
turning back now.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Lily asks, the tiniest hint of hope flaring up inside her, and she’s trying to
contain it, because it’s likely that she only heard him wrong, but she can’t.
She can’t and it’s taking over.
“I’m in love with you.” It’s
Earth-shattering. “I’m in love with you, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I
can’t stand not knowing what’s real and what’s not, or if there’s anything real
at all, because—fuck I wish it was,
all of it—“
Suddenly, her body is flush
against his. Their lips are tangled together and she’s prodding his mouth open,
and it’s desperate, really, the way he’s clinging to her back and she to his
And then, they slow down, and it
soon becomes more laughter and smiling and teeth-clashing-against-teeth than
actual kissing, but it’s fine, really, because now Lily has her answer. This, right here.
Oh please give me jealous lily, I live for that, LIVE FOR IT!!! It is my #1 favourite thing
“why did you say no to a hogsmeade date if you wanted to go with him?”
“but i don’t want to go with him.”
“then why are we following his every move.”
lily glares. mary winks. “oh stop smirking like that mary, like you’re all smug about something.”
“you like him!”
“i do not!”
they’re both hiding behind a bush, a bush right near spintwiches sporting needs. where james potter, sirius black and portia jacobs are currently browsing the newest broom model.
“do you think she likes him?” lily has crisp, brown leaves stuck in her hair. her eyes are wide, watching like a hawk as jacobs laughs at something james must have said.
“what’s not to like? he’s good looking, quidditch star james potter”
lily hates to admit that mary’s right. it feels strange thinking of arrogant potter like that.
sirius rolls his eyes and wanders towards the display in the window. they move a little too late, sirius notices the flash of deep red hair. lily swears and they both dive to the floor.
“something in there that’s taking your fancy, evans?” three minutes later and sirius stands in front of them, grinning, eyes gleaming with his hands in his pockets. lily scowls. “no. there’s nothing i want in there.”
“now now evans, you know you’re really bad at lying right?”
“i wanted to get some… lotion. that err stuff you put on your broom to make it, um, smooth.”
sirius grins, and lily starts to fear for her life. “fleetwood’s high-finish handle polish? well, what do you know - you’re in luck because i just saw some in the shop.”
“on second thought, it’s okay! i don’t need any-”
“ah, but i just remembered that i do though. come on, lily. you can come with me.”
she puts up a bit of a fight, but ends up stomping into the shop with sirius and mary holding onto her from either side.
james looks up in an instant, cheeks blossoming with pink. a hand rushes to his hair. “oh, evans! and err hi macdonald, sirius.”
“potter.” lily barely gives him a glance before she pulls the two giggling idiots to the other end of the shop. she glares back behind her, where james is back to talking to with portia about the strength and speed of the new nimbus.
“you’re one hard woman to please, evans. the guy asks you out, you turn him down and then start stalking him and acting like it’s his fault.”
“it is his fault! look at him! the way he’s all going heart shaped eyes at mrs ‘i love quidditch since yesterday’ jacobs.
“lily. he’s talking, that’s all he’s doing.” “yeah, not like they’re planning their wedding vows or whatever.” “they want to get married?!”
two hands fly up to her mouth, shushing and pushing her back to the farthest corner. sirius black taps his chin and shakes his head. “honestly, i don’t know why you rejected him in the first place.”
“i panicked, okay! i was terrified because i was like crap! i actually think he’s kinda hot and grown up a lot and i didn’t want to prove that what i was feeling was… oh my god, you two stop smiling like that.”
lily picks up the polish and the three walk in a tangle to the checkout. james potter is alone. “your girlfriend realise that quidditch is off the ground and she’s afraid of heights?” there’s no sign of portia jacobs and lily pounces at the opportunity like a ravenous lion.
it’s so quiet that the tick of the clock beats like a megaphone in the shop. sirius sucks in a breath and scratches his nose and mary tries and fails to bite the smile off her lips. they both take a step back, holding onto each other as they watch the scene unfold.
“i don’t even know what your problem is, evans.” james rolls his eyes, grabs onto a broomstick servicing kit and marches towards the till too. there’s a thirty-ish year old man being served first and the lady who’s browsing nearby tuts at the disturbance.
“my problem?” lily looks like she’s about to cast an unforgiveable curse. “i wasn’t just chatting up some ravenclaw who was batting her eyelids like she had dust in her eyes.”
james laughs rather madly. “says the one who’s been following me around all day like a leech.”
“i was doing no such thing! take that potter, how dare you-”
“oh? so when i was leaving hogwarts and i turned around and you pretended to be a statue-”
“i was practising the valuable lesson of being still, potter. don’t flatter yourself. why would i follow you?”
the man hurries out of the shop and the lady who’s browsing quickly follows. the cashier lady looks uncomfortable. “do you have your camera?” sirius whispers into mary’s ear.
james lets out a huff and bangs his broom kit onto the till. “because you like me, evans, and you’re afraid to admit it.”
“ugh you are so infuriating potter! you act like the whole world revolves around you!”
“just admit that you’re jealous, lily. you’re such a bad liar.”
silence falls once more, the air thick and tense. mary and sirius are practically hugging, not believing what’s happening.
“i am not jealous, you got that potter?” she takes an aggressive step towards him. she’s a foot smaller than him, but james takes a small step backwards anyways - stumbling into the till.
“crystal clear.” he gulps, holding onto the cabinet for dear life as lily takes another step. she’s got him cornered.
“and i fancy you, okay? can you keep that in your egotistical head?”
james potter blinks. “you, you what?”
lily furrows her eyebrows. “what?”
“you just said you fancy me.”
“i said i DIDN’T fancy you.”
“pretty sure you said ‘i fancy you.’ evans.” sirius is cackling by now, grabbing onto mary for support. lily gives him the finger and stomps another step closer to james. so close, she’s almost stepping on his toes. he looks down at her, a lopsided, elated grin adorning his blushing cheeks.
“wipe that stupid smile off your face, potter.” lily snaps, and before she knows it she’s grabbing hold of james’ jacket, standing on her tip toes and snogging him senseless.
james drops his money on the floor, mary slaps a galleon into the open hand of sirius’ and the cashier lets out a frightened gasp when james picks up lily, her legs around his waist.
“so are you… buying anything or?” the till lady asks in a whisper.
Remus loved Harry, don’t get me wrong, but he would use every excuse in the book to get out of holding him because “no no no don’t give me ha—ahhhHHHH hey there…sport? how are you doing today? rotten weather lately–lily please take him I can’t do this”
When you characterise Sirius, what are the main personality traits you keep in mind for him?
this ask came after my marble hearts collide post, so i’m not sure if you mean in general or for that fic specifically, but i’m just going to answer in general and u can send me another ask if that’s not what you meant :)
he. doesn’t. give. a. flying. fuck. sirius black doesn’t care. there is a finite list of things sirius black gives a fuck about. he is indifferent and cold and unbothered.
he has a lot of heart. you just have to dig and dig for it. treat it like an archeological excavation. james potter has it. lily evans has it. remus lupin has it. peter pettigrew has it (well, he did.) mr and mrs potter have it. minevra mcgonagall has it. regulus has and also doesn’t have it. you have to really want to find it, but also, at the same time, not give on that you’re looking for it.
he is aware he’s attractive. the jawline? he knows. the hair? he knows. the eyes? he knows. the casual elegance? he Knows.
whilst sexuality isn’t a personality trait, i characterise sirius as asexual and this is relevant to how i portray him because it means he’s not gonna have had a one night stand or be worried about being 30 and not in a relationship which, folks, isn’t smth to worry about whether you’re asexual or not or flirting with every person he sees etc.
the Intelligence. an impossible iq. he knows Everything. no one’s sure if maybe he has a photographic memory or something, but he just consumes information and holds it. james learns for fun because he’s a Nerd, sirius just knows.
a Rich Bitch. he oozes old money. he has class and sophistication and the etiquette lessons from his childhood show. he is Rolling in it, and his casual spending on useless stuff can irk other people.
his wit is so sharp it cuts Deep. it isn’t always personal and sometimes it is just charming and funny and on the mark. but, when it isn’t, it Hurts. his wit is faster than an olympic sprinter and very few people can keep up.
the people he loves, he Loves. he loves with every part of his body and soul, but it doesn’t always show. it’s not big gestures like james of bouquets of flowers and heartfelt poems and sappy, pining stares across the room. it’s picking you up from the hospital/airport/shop/club without you asking to. it’s making sure whatever you’re allergic to isn’t on the menu. it’s knowing what conversation topics make you uncomfortable and getting you out of that situation without letting anyone else know. it’s the ‘r u home yet’ text that he won’t admit to the next day. it’s the legs balanced in your lap, his physical touches few and far between unless you’re someone he Loves. it’s the carefree way he laughs and his eyes brighten when no one else is around but you. it’s subtle and true.
loyal to a fault. he won’t run into a tree like james will, but he will be there by your side and he will keep your secrets safe and he will protect you.
a petty drama queen whose instagram would be so aesthetic it hurts.
at five years old, james potter managed to get himself stuck in a tree for nearly two hours after sneaking into the shed and stealing his dad’s old quidditch broom
at five years old, sirius black waltzed with his cousin andromeda around his family’s ballroom in his four piece suit,afterwards spending the rest of the night trying to sneak sips of chardonnay while adults werent looking
at five years old, peter pettigrew tried to steal one of his mum’s famous tarts, but was instead rewarded with a swift slap to the hand as his chubby fingers reached towards the sweets
at five years old, remus lupin experienced his first transformation locked alone in his room. he listened to the quiet sobs of his mother from outside the door whilst playing with his toy car before the sudden sharp pain left him rigid with fear