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apalapucian · 21 days

Text

green light (2024 ver.)

an: old fic rewrite; the war is over, everybody lives AU. (well, not everybody everybody, but the potter family + sirius + remus + even peter* live.) entire fic under the cut. also on ao3 (better formatted there lol). * = you'll see.

—

1982

saying certain names out loud still hurts, so they don't.

they wake up early. a nervous hush settles in the whole house, the kind they thought has gone over the past year, but — well, it is october 31st. it's bound to return. not to haunt them, exactly. just remind them maybe. that they ought to stop a bit. commemorate. they owe it to their friends. they owe it to — frank and alice.

frank and alice. water beats down james's bare back and he leans a hand against the tiled wall before him, the other reaching up to massage his nape. he breathes deep slow breaths through his mouth, watches rivulets chase each other on the floor. thinks, what does it take to wash all the guilt away? frank and alice, frank and alice...

he steps out of the shower and stares his reflection down in the bathroom mirror. frank and alice.

yeah. still stings.

he holds lily's hand under the table throughout breakfast, and lily smiles — soft, fond, if a bit incredulous — at his one-handed attempt to eat.

it's still dark when they step out. they don't leave harry. they can't.

they apparate before old rusty gates, harry's tiny fists balling up and clutching james's shirt at the racket, but otherwise staying asleep in his father's arms. he looks so calm, their harry, so content in slumber. james strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. he's sorry for everything else, he really is. but he's not sorry that harry's here, safe and close and breathing against his chest.

the graves look new. augusta, james guesses with a pang. lily stoops down to press a hand over alice's name, brushing away a stray leaf. they don't say anything. lily sniffs, and james puts his free arm around her.

the walk back out is better, lighter. lily's hand is no longer dawn-cold. harry stirs again, his usual wake-up time now, opening his eyes at the sound of the gates creaking close. for a moment it seems like he's going to cry, but the sun breaks over the horizon, and in awe he watches the light spill onto the dewy graveyard over james's shoulder.

—

1983

james is asleep, and lily rolls over to her other side to stare at the window. it's a wider window, and there's a different tree silhouetted against the dark, an unfamiliar picture framed in the night-dimmed white wood. the insects are quieter here, and the stars are... hmm. shier. although it might just be the weather, of course. the lone desk in the room is devoid of her potion books, of her research notes. no quidditch posters are tacked on the walls. no gryffindor things. the shelves, too. the list goes on and on, a disorderly parade of bullet points going too fast, so fast that even james's quiet breaths from behind her can't catch up and calm her down this time: the floors creak in different places. the staircase is longer, wider — not by much, still nothing to james's family house, but the difference is still stark. there is a patch of mildew in a corner of the kitchen ceiling. the cupboards are empty, two spare rooms are unfurnished, they need a new couch, maybe a coffee table, yellow roses in the garden...

she closes her eyes and sighs. for now, she reminds herself. mostly empty for now. and there's nothing wrong with that. there's nothing wrong with coming here, leaving godric's hollow. they needed this. she and james and harry. godric's hollow was home, but it was home during the war, and try as they all did to sweep away the remnants of battle from its corners, it stayed in the air and taunted them every time the house got too still, too quiet. echoes of terrible midnight news lingered, and the constant attacks of... of uncertainty, of terror still. god, the terror. of being shut up forever. of getting fucking murdered when they step out. of losing everything at any given second.

they needed this. this is right. it will be a better home.

a short, stuttering creak cuts through the silence, startling lily's thoughts. she turns, and harry is in the doorway. (they leave the door open so they can hear the house and harry, a habit they haven't shaken yet.) in the dim room, lit only by what little light spills in through the window, lily makes out her son's furrowed brows and the jutted-out bottom lip.

she raises a hand to beckon him in, but before she can speak, james says, "hey, mate," without any indication of having been sleeping at all.

she sits up to survey her husband in surprise, but his currently specs-less eyes are fixed, squinting, on harry, who shuffles into the room feet bare and glasses askew and hair a mirror of the same storm on his father's head. he stops at the foot of the bed and says in his tired little voice, "can i sleep here?"

"of course," says james, who's sat up now as well. "d'you want us to go to your room then?"

"daaadddd," groans harry, and james laughs, and he and lily scoot to the sides so harry can cuddle in between them. the pillows are righted and the sheets are pulled up to harry's chin. his glasses are laid beside james's on the bedside table.

"okay, i think i can sleep now," says harry, eyes already closed.

they all go silent then, james and lily just staring at each other in the dark over their son; wearing the same content, worried, happy, tired, everything almost-smile.

james reaches out for lily's hand, tracing circles against her knuckles with his thumb. harry shifts a little beneath, mumbles, "all right, mum? daddy?"

and their almost-smiles crack into full sigh-smiles of relief; an exhale of happiness they didn't know they were holding in.

"yeah, we are."

"sweet dreams, harry."

—

1984

she wakes up late and james is not beside her when she does. her heart skips a beat, but the panic doesn't last long anymore, and she feels more sure of her steps and the floor and their presence here than she ever was.

three years. three whole years, and it's really, really gone, isn't it?

there are yellow roses on the kitchen table. a cup of coffee charmed to keep warm for a time. a scrawled "morning! :) –james & harry" on a scrap of paper, the torn bottom of a receipt for... milk, she finds. and strawberries. harry was signed by harry himself, and lily wants to cry at the shaky strokes, the crooked lines. she can hear them in the other room where james's window seat project is almost finished. harry is laughing. he asks questions, mocks his dad's shabby handiwork, drops the things he's asked to hand.

roses and handwritten notes and coffee and giggles nearby. this is her life now. she skims the flowers, the sun itself in her heart.

—

1985

"d'you think moony's okay?" sirius asks, sat all thoughtful and cross-legged on the counter, and james wonders if he realizes that this isn't the first time he's asked him this. not even the second time.

"dunno," says james, feigning distractedness. good thing it doesn't take much at the moment. he looks at his reference sheet for recipe number three, taped on the wall, barely making out his own handwriting. cooking without magic is such a hassle. but he's in charge of it this year, and — because he's a proud dumbo, an arrogant toerag — he asked lily and harry to get out of the house while he cooks up the greatest dinner of their lives, so that none of lily's interventions or harry's endless bouts of 'taste-testing' ruin it. yeah, he thinks, because he's ruining it on his own just fine, thank you. "hey, will you pass me that jar — no, not that — yes. thanks..."

silence. james glances at sirius without moving his head, and is filled with exasperation at the look on his face. he asks, "look, why don't you just owl him?"

"he might still be mad at me," says sirius, and the immediacy of his response is proof, yet again, of how much he's been thinking about this.

not that james hasn't been. it's just — moony needs it. he needs to be away and sulking or whatever right now. but he'll be back. james is sure. till then there's nothing to do but wait.

which sirius sucks at, apparently. "d'you think i shouldn't have said anything?" he asks.

james stalls by ticking off two more instructions, probably getting the measurements wrong, but what the hell. "i don't know," he answers eventually.

sirius rolls his eyes. "loads of help, you are."

he gets a puff of flour in the face for that. james didn't need to look at him to aim. he smirks when he hears him cough and swear.

and then, later, while sprinkling salt (that's definitely way too much salt than just the required 'pinch'), james adds, quietly, "no, i don't think so."

"huh?"

"i think it's good that you — " james repeats, but he is distracted, because he looks up and notices how clean sirius looks. james is like, marinade-smeared and flour-dusted all over. "you know," he starts, "you're no better help than harry around here. at least he doesn't ask stressful questions while i work."

"first of all, you're not working," sirius retorts. "you're — i don't know, bullshitting this. second of all," this he says with a hand held up to silence james, who was about to talk back, "so it does stress you out. i knew it. you were trying to be all cool about it but i knew."

"oh, shut up. of course it stresses me out, padfoot, you always stress me out. you're an extremely stressful person. and this is even especially stressful. you're my best friends. but — like i said, i don't think it."

"don't think what?"

"that you shouldn't have said anything. i think it's good that you told him. otherwise it would have been this big wedge between you two, and no one would like that. not me, not lily, not you two."

sirius frowns. "so you like that he's not talking to us?"

"he talks to me," james points out, "and lily."

sirius arches a brow at him.

"fine, i don't like that you two aren't talking. but you obviously still feel guilty. you're always so... polite. so careful around him. you don't think we don't notice? and that wouldn't change unless he forgives you, which would never happen if he didn't know you had an offense to begin with."

"yeah, well. now he knows, and he hates us."

"just you, mate."

"thank you, prongs."

james drops what he's doing. "of course he'd react this way! you did tell him you didn't trust him. that you thought — "

" — i thought he was the spy, yeah. but that was before, you know that. you know it, don't you?"

"i do know it, padfoot."

"now i know — for sure — that i can trust him with my..."

"your life?" james prompts, when sirius leaves the sentence hanging.

"well, no. i don't know. my motorcycle, maybe."

"same thing."

" — true."

they stare at each other; sirius drags his gaze away first to pull his god this is so stupid face. "why did i have to fucking tell him? it's long over. we're all okay now. i should just have kept it to myself. forever. god."

"stop beating yourself up. you — hm. you get a point for honesty from me."

"it wasn't even honesty. it wasn't like anyone asked."

"well, you were drunk. we all were a bit."

"i screwed up."

" — yes, you did."

sirius looks scandalized. "wow. you didn't even hesitate."

"i've already made two excuses for you and i'm this close to dumping this casserole over your head," says james. "let's give him a week, okay? no — three more days. if he still doesn't talk to you then, i'll talk to him. but let him stew for now, yeah?"

sirius sighs. he doesn't say yes or nod or anything, but james can tell when he concedes. they leave the topic at that, and sirius begins his three-day wait by finally jumping off the counter to help. he briefly surveys james's dish (or what atrocity has become of it), narrows his eyes at the godawful handwriting, and then thumps james on the head. "you forgot number four, master chef," he points out, jabbing a finger on his cheat sheet.

"oh goddamn it..."

—

1986

harry goes missing. sirius picks remus up from hogsmeade and they drive to the potters' on his motorcycle, sirius barging in before remus can knock.

"how long does it take you two to change?" sirius scolds james and lily, while they all rummage around harry's usual hiding places, finding nothing. "you got fucking distracted, didn't you? i swear to god — "

"he wishes," snaps lily. "he was being an idiot."

"oh i'm being an idiot — " begins james, but remus and sirius cut him off.

"you were arguing?"

they (that is to say remus) find harry in the cramped cupboard under the stairs. he fell asleep. with james's invisibility cloak, which he procured without the knowledge or permission of his parents, as it turns out, and honestly sirius doesn't know whether to be admonitory or proud about that, and is only glad that it's not his business to be either.

"i was only going to scare you," harry says, looking properly guilty. "but you took so long to come down! i fell asleep."

"you succeeded, mate," says remus. "we were all very scared."

"never ever disappear on us like that again," lily tells off harry, but she's hugging him so fiercely, and james is still raking his fingers through his hair, wild-eyed, but is now also looking at his wife and son like he's forgotten whatever petty fight held them up upstairs. as he should, really.

james kisses her long and hard on the doorstep before she leaves to meet some important guy for work or some other. remus, who's leaving with her as he's supposed to go back to hogwarts now that the problem's solved, rolls his eyes while he waits for the gross affair to finish. sirius is staying in the house with james. he fakes retching gestures at the conitnued kissing, making harry giggle.

later, in the living room, sirius and harry swap chocolate frog cards. james is in the kitchen, doing the dishes. in the late afternoon lull, harry softly confides to sirius that while waiting in his nook earlier, before he fell asleep, he thought his parents might never bother to try and find him anymore.

"nah, they'll always find you. did you see them? they were all — " he makes exaggerated expressions of anguish. harry laughs again.

"but i was 'sleep then. what if i wasn't? what if i'm just lost?"

"they'd still find you."

"even if i have the cloak?"

"why are you lost and wearing the cloak?"

"um. i dunno."

sirius nods solemnly. "even if you have the cloak."

"even if it was under aunt petunia's stairs?"

sirius laughs. "even if you were under my mum's stairs."

harry grimaces at that. and then, "uncle moony found me though," says harry.

"does it matter?" says sirius, rumpling harry's hair. then he gently rights his glasses. "he just beat your dad to it. and me. and your mum. but one of us is always, always going to find you... oh, look — " he fishes a card from his deck, trapping it between index and middle finger and then flicking it neatly towards harry's pile. "it's your granddad!"

the longer harry stares at it, the deeper the lines between his eyebrows get. "why is... um, my hair's not gonna be like that when i grow up, is it?"

—

1987

lily shifts in her seat so she can look miss cole square in the eye. beside her, james squeezes her hand, but she doesn't know if he's just being twitchy. "i just don't see how anyone can turn someone else's hair entirely blue," explains lily, "without the other's... ah, full participation."

"and eyebrows," james reminds her, nudging her side.

lily nods. "and eyebrows, yes. thank you, james."

"you're welcome, lily."

miss cole looks positively pained from behind her desk, with her lips pursed mcgonagall-thin and her beady eyes sinking beneath her frown-lines. she inspects james and lily and harry, the last standing beside his seated father and is still glaring in contempt at the other boy in the room. kevin. big burly kid who could so easily have been dudley's twin brother, if not for his hair (and eyebrows) being the most vivid shade of lapis lazuli at the moment. his parents (filthy rich from what they've heard) are not around; he's accompanied instead by a furious, flustered, really bewildered nanny named (nicknamed?) baby.

"kevin says he did it," says baby, pointing a wrinkly-knuckled finger at harry. she speaks in this loud spitting hiss that's her attempt at 'keeping quiet' after getting told off so many times for being so loud. "kevin would never do this to himself — "

"oh, why not? it looks amazing on him," says james, straight face and amazement and concern and all. harry's glare breaks, but he has the sense to bite down on his lip to keep his laugh in.

harry doesn't get in too much trouble for it, thank god, mostly for lack of evidence. lily had a point, and miss cole is driven to just conclude that the boys must have just agreed to mess around and color kevin's hair, and kevin initially agreed, except now he looks (even more) ridiculous and he's not happy about it. (what happened, really, if anyone wants to know, was that between morning break and maths kevin wanted to give harry a free haircut, because he thought his classmate 'four-eyes' looked stupid with his 'mop-head'. he stole harry's glasses, cornered him, held him by the collar and loomed triumphantly over him with a pair of scissors — then harry grappled blindly at his head and his hair was just — suddenly. all. blue.)

harry and kevin mutter their respective apologies, as asked of them by miss cole, and harry glances warily at his parents when the counselor asks them to shake hands. lily nods; james smiles at him, puts a hand around his shoulders and urges him forward. harry swallows at the glint in kevin's eye when he takes his small hand in his hammy fingers, ready to retaliate — but then james cocks his head to one side and — lily couldn't entirely see, standing behind, but she's pretty sure james just gave kevin the look. not the glare, he reserves that for equal grounds. it's the look; that calm, icy, smug, unhinged james potter look that knows it can't lose and dares you to try. it has made fully grown adversaries waver in the past, so lily can only imagine how downright terrifying that could be to a seven-year-old.

kevin drops harry's hand in barely two seconds. he's out of the office in five.

james glances back at lily to smirk. she smirks right back.

—

1988

the parlor is crowded, but they find an available table for two in the patio, under the shade of a giant green umbrella. halfway through his ice cream (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts), harry adjusts his glasses and opens his mouth to say something, but his uncle moony beats him to it: "the answer is no, harry."

"i wasn't gonna ask again!"

"alright. what is it then?"

"i was only going to say... that i promise not to tell anyone. i promise. not even daddy. or mum!"

remus laughs. "d'you think they don't know?"

harry's eyes widen, and he actually drops his spoon in disapproval. "they know what your boggart is? why won't you tell me?"

"because i don't want to lie to you. you're a grown up now, as you're so constantly reminding us — and we're friends! but i also don't want to tell you what it is yet."

"but — "

"come on now, harry."

"but now you're missing the list."

"i'm truly sorry about that."

harry pouts, digs in again, and then, "okay, what about your patronus?"

remus considers this for a moment. "wolf," he says quietly.

"cool."

remus beams at him. "yeah, cooler than your dad's. and padfoot's."

"oh. hm. well, i don't know about that," he quips honestly. "i do like that dad's is a stag... hey, uncle moony?"

"yeah?"

"what about uncle padfoot? does he know? i won't tell him, if you're worried about that."

remus chuckles, leaning over to wipe chocolate off harry's nose. "i'm sorry, he knows. look, how about i take you to hogwarts next sunday? i'll take you to the kitchens. that'll make up for being the lame uncle, won't it?"

harry lightens up. "really?"

"yes."

"yes! yes, please. thank you."

"alright then."

"can we go on saturday?"

"ah, no. the joke shop's opening on saturday."

"oh, yeah..."

ice cream is finished and the walk home is a quiet, autumn-colored calm. when the crowd thins on a particular stretch of the road, harry nudges remus's side. "hey, uncle moony."

"i really hope you're not going to ask me again."

"i wasn't."

"go on, then."

harry grins up at him. "i don't think you're lame at all."

—

1989

"you're kidding," says james, reverent and awestruck, and lily knows she's made the right decision.

"we're not," she replies in sing-song.

"but this is... this is the latest comet." he runs his hand along the smooth length of the new racing broom, mouth still open in amazement. "how — "

"we all pitched in. sirius and remus and — "

"and me!" says harry, jumping in and hugging what he can reach of james. he's been bursting since the idea came forth, and it's a miracle, really, that he managed to keep the secret in until now. "i pitched in! i broke mr. jupiter!"

"you broke mr. jupiter?" says james, torn away from the moment at once. "but mr. jupiter was for your broom! and you love mr. jupiter! you loved his smooth pink butt!"

harry giggles. "mum bought me another one. it's a tardis piggy bank! it's bigger on the inside. and uncle moony said hogwarts has brooms there i can practice with, dad, and uncle padfoot said he'd buy me a broomstick himself once i'm a really, really good flier. and, dad, they said — you're going to play in the world cup."

"oh. i — who said?"

"all of us," says lily, smirking.

"that's... the world cup. huh."

"yeah!" says harry, almost yelling now, practically bouncing in excitement. "you're going to play for puddlemere united, aren't you? i mean, the wasps are fine too, and i suppose the magpies would be excellent as well, but — "

"easy, harry," says lily. her grin is ear-splitting.

james holds up a hand. "alright, back up one second — but, lily, your work — "

"they've given me permission to work on the potions research at home. i can use the spare room upstairs — don't worry, harry and i have it all sorted out. right, harry?"

"yeah, we have." harry holds up his palm for a high-five, lily gives it to him, and james grins at them fondly.

"there's also that prophet column still going," continues lily, "and the boys already said tom can handle the joke shop just fine on his own now. i just thought... you haven't forgotten, have you? i know you always tell me it's okay, but i see you when you play with harry, and... it's always been your dream. you can now, james. go for it."

james exhales a shuddering sigh of disbelief, overwhelmed. and then, shaking his head at... them, at the feeling of being with them here, now, god — he drops the broom and takes his wife's face into his hands. her lips taste like flying, like winning, like lily evans under the beech tree by the lake that very first time, and so, so, so much more —

"good thing uncle padfoot's not here," remarks harry, righting the broom up from the floor and watching his parents in equal euphoria. "you guys are disgusting."

—

1990

kingsley shacklebolt is minister for magic, and james doesn't have to (re)practice his patronus charms, because it's a tall, bushy-eyebrowed auror who leads him down the poorly lit corridor and not a swarm of hooded barbarities who want to suck out his soul. the auror leaves him by a cell almost to the end of the hallway, and there's nothing at first, just varying shades of darkness everywhere james turns, the echoing beats of water dripping, the muffled rage of waves around the island. he thinks he can hear laughter from somewhere close; a cold, high-pitched female giggling, and he considers just walking out because — christ. this place is mad. but then there's movement from the corner, behind the bars, and then he's in front of him, and james... doesn't know. feels a lot of things. wants to punch him, most of all.

"prongs," says wormtail. no — peter. peter pettigrew. his voice is a scratchy whisper, his face sunken and his hair a long wispy dead mess. he's thinner than james has ever seen him.

"shut up," says james, voice low. he feels the urge to back away one step, not expecting peter to cling on to the bars and hungrily squeeze his face through them to see him.

"prongs." he says it so reverently, like a god's name. "i'm — what are you — " he's surveying james up and down, drinking in anything he can from beyond azkaban. "prongs, fuck, i'm so happy you're here — "

"i said shut up. i didn't come here for you."

peter looks surprised, then hurt, then his grip on the metal loosens as a maniacal grin starts to spread on his lips. "clearly, you did. you can't help it. dear god, i can't believe i almost gave up."

james blinks at him in incredulity. "what?"

"i am sorry, prongs. i am. and i knew you'd know that, i knew you'd come back for me, but it's been so long — "

james starts to laugh. "are you insane?"

peter shuts up.

james looks at him, really looks at him, and the anger threatens to bubble up the surface again. but he holds himself down, keeps his clenched fists on his sides. he takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and then: "we're happy."

"i'm — sorry?"

there. that's why he's here. not to lash out, but to... to drop the last of what's still been weighing him down. and now that he's said that, we're happy — he didn't know it's what he was supposed to say, didn't plan it. it just sort of came out. but now he does feel like he just rid himself of the last of it. the last bad thing.

his hand slackens. he thinks of his first world league match next month, of sirius and regulus talking again, of remus getting promoted in hogwarts. lily and harry brewing potions in the spare room. idle evenings eating ice cream at the town plaza fountain. the joke shop's first anniversary. that time they danced to the weird sisters' new song in the rain... "we're happy," he repeats. "me and lily and harry. sirius. remus. everyone left is happy, pete. everyone alive."

peter opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"and i don't know if i've forgiven you. maybe i have, or maybe... i don't know, maybe i just stopped going back. i certainly haven't forgotten, but trust me, i will. soon enough no one will even remember you anymore."

"i'm..." but there's nothing peter can say now. maybe he really is sorry, and maybe it'll never be enough, but james doesn't care. and he knows that peter knows this, sees it on his face, because his former friend cuts his sentence short. "james..." not a god anymore.

"i'm done with you," says james, knowing it in his heart to be true. "goodbye, wormtail. from all of us."

and he's sure then that he really isn't angry anymore, that he's okay, truly and finally, because the name no longer hurts so much as it did years ago.

the same way, he thinks as he walks down the halls of the most desolate place on earth, feeling so strange to be so... so full of light, in a place like this — the same way frank and alice (and marlene and dorcas and benjy and gideon and fabian and all the others) haven't stung in a long while.

fin

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆˙⟡٠⭑.

bookmark/kudos/leave purple hearts on ao3? :) thanks for reading!

#jily #jily*#jily lives au #everybody lives au #jily au #jple #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic #jily fic #wolfstar as cute uncles because. pls #domestic fluff #HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!#apalapucian*

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fuckyeahsuperheropowercouples · 1 month

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Alive!Jily at Harmione’s wedding. Had this wonderful commission done by https://x.com/47_hard?s=21.

#jily #harmione #harry x hermione #james x lily #wedding #jily au #harmione au #otp #what should have been #James potter #lily potter #hermione granger #harry james potter #Harry Potter #fanart

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moonyslatte · 2 years

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Remus: *interacts with people*

Remus: *has to take a five hour nap*

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petals2fish · 3 months

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Catching Fire

A/N: My January @jilychallengeis here one day late! My prompt was the song Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars and my partner was the beautiful and talented @practicecourts!! Read my Hunger Games AU on on A03.

"Oh, Lord, what have I done?" she murmured, watching James stride away toward Victor's Village without glancing back.

She had fallen in love with a man on the run.

Running from her.

Running from the capitol.

Running away from anything that brought him back into the arena.

It wasn't James' fault that he teetered on the edge of the hangman's noose. He had defied the Capitol, winning the games impulsively by leveraging his and Lily's relationship against Seneca Crane. Now, fate compelled them to be together, yet he behaved as though being in her company was the last thing he desired. Returning alive from the games seemed to have made him distant and Lily hated that she was now sleeping alone.

“He regrets saving me,” Lily hissed as she sidestepped a mud puddle, “he must.”

Six months had passed since the Hunger Games, and Lily could scarcely recall what life was like before the ordeal. Now, she found herself alone, her sister's indifference evident as Petunia had never cared for her and perhaps had even hoped for Lily's demise in the games. Unfortunately for Petunia, Lily had survived, yet the one person who felt like family seldom directed their attention her way for more than a fleeting moment.

As he returned from his turkey hunting expedition in the woods, he unmistakably noticed her approaching along the road. She felt let down when he didn't pause to accompany her. In the initial three months since their return from The Hunger Games, James had rarely allowed Lily to step away from his bed. She’d spent many sunlit days hiding under the covers with him, only leaving to eat and present themselves to the occasional cameras.

However, at present, he preferred brooding.

Lily followed James toward Victor's Village, where they cohabited with Haymitch and James' parents. Lily harbored a dislike for her residence, a place devoid of companionship, driving her to often choose a sofa near the kitchen for her sleep, finding solace in the act of baking. Baking became her refuge, a sanctuary to escape the haunting memories of the Hunger Games. Writing also became her pastime, and she spent her free hours chronicling the games from her perspective, concealing the records beneath a loose board in the living room.

Rather than heading straight home, Lily diverted her path to the house farthest away from the usual route. It had been a while since she last checked on Haymitch that morning, and a sense of concern tugged at her. The winding path leading to his residence was lined with tall trees, their branches reaching out like protective arms.

Approaching, the creaking of the porch swing caught her attention, sounding out of place, and a knot formed in her stomach. The wind picked up, promising a storm. The front door stood slightly ajar, sparking a flicker of worry within her.

“Haymitch?” she called.

As she approached, more details came into view. The scent of alcohol assaulted her nostrils upon entering the foyer. On her right, a flickering light emanated from the kitchen. Tracking its glow, Lily discovered Haymitch slumped over the table, inebriated and unconscious. With a sigh, she placed her bag of baked goods on the counter. Her next move was to check the fridge for any cheese; he'd have to wake up, eat, and sober up.

In a stealthy entrance, James remained so silent that she only became aware of his presence when a turkey landed with a thud on the table. "Hi, Lily."

Turning away from the fridge, Lily stared at James, clad in his deer hide jacket. She wanted to see his eyes, she wanted to feel okay again, and it would only happen if he looked at her the way he used too. The way she almost wanted to beg him too. However, his attention was not on her but on Haymitch.

"He's been like that since I arrived five minutes ago," Lily informed James. "I was in the middle of looking for cheese to pair–"

Interrupting her, James poured water from the nearby pail onto Haymitch's face. Startled, Haymitch jerked up in his seat, arms flailing, and a string of profanities escaping his lips. Unfazed, James placed the bucket down in front of the older man. Haymitch, realizing he's not in immediate danger, retaliated with a glare that could cut through steel.

"The cameras will be here in three hours," James warned him, his tone carrying a sense of urgency.

"I'm not the one who had to be on camera," grumbled Haymitch, his discontent evident as Lily began slicing into her freshly baked rosemary bread.

"Would you like some bread, James?" she asked politely, not lifting her gaze from her task.

"No, thank you," James responded a bit too hastily.

Haymitch chortled darkly, wiping his face with his shirt. "You two have some warming up to do before the cameras arrive."

"Speaking of that," James said, glancing around before addressing Haymitch, "we need to discuss our angle."

"What angle?" Haymitch smiled at Lily as she passed him a piece of bread smothered in cheese. "You're an angel, Lily," he added hungrily.

"The star-struck lovers angle," James suggested, "the one where Lily and I are in love."

“It's a good angle.” Haymitch said gruffly, “we’re not touching it.”

James winced, visibly. “Haymitch we need–”

“No James,” Haymitch snapped.

James startled them both by slamming a fist down, “I don’t want to be in love with her anymore!”

Lily stared at James as if he'd grown two heads. "You're–you’re not in love with me?"

"I-" James stammered, suddenly looking more like a deer caught across from his bow.

Suddenly, his previous cold demeanor made sense to Lily. All his pushing away, sleeping in his own bed with no invitations. He used to take her hunting with him and now, he wanted to be alone. Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen out of love with her.

Wait.

A rushing, swooping, unbearable thought entered her mind. What if, he'd never loved her? What if everything int he games had been an act, something he'd chosen to do to get home. They only got lucky that the game makers had stated the kids could go home together if they remained from the same district. That was when James had sought her out, made sure she stayed alive after Cato cut her leg open.

She brandished her knife at him almost as a warning. "So, all those times in the arena – you were lying about loving me?"

"No!" James protested.

"Then why change the angle?" Lily demanded.

"I just wanted to get you home!" James screamed, surprising her, as he was normally so even-tempered. "I just wanted to get you home so you could live! I never planned on the Capitol viewing my act with the berries as defiance! I didn't think the districts would start rebelling–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Haymitch cut in sharply. "What the hell are you talking about, James?"

James ran his hands through his hair, collapsing at the table in defeat. "Snow came to see me three months ago. He said the other districts were starting to show signs of rebellion. He claimed it was my fault because people don't think I really love Lily."

Lily crossed her arms, seeking clarification. "So, you are in love with me?"

James laughed miserably, sending her the saddest brown-eyed smile she'd ever seen. "I've been in love with you since we were kids, Lily. Of course, I wasn't faking it, but other people think we were."

"Other people can keep their opinions to themselves." Lily huffed, earning a warm look from James, the first one in a long time.

"Did Snow ask you to stop seeing Lily?" Haymitch inquired carefully, refraining from touching any more of Lily's bread.

In all fairness, she experienced a strong urge to vomit as well and didn't want any bread either. The timeline suddenly aligned—Snow speaking to James and James distancing himself from Lily. It had happened at the same time, three months ago. Somehow though, that wasn’t making her feel better.

"No," James sighed, rubbing his eyes. "He wants me to marry her."

Lily wondered if it was possible for a heart to stop working, but life to continue on. She swore it stopped beating the second those words fell from James’ lips. He had said it like…like the idea of marrying her was exhausting. Tears threatened to spill. She also considered chucking the knife at his head.

"What's so bad about that?" Haymitch questioned.

“Yeah,” Lily asked coolly, “what is so bad about that?”

James gazed at Haymitch, a haunted expression in his eyes, refusing to look at Lily. "I've got a target on my back for what I did, Haymitch, and she'll have one too if I let her marry me."

"I don't care," Lily declared, her voice cracking as she stuck the knife on the table and walked around it to take James' sullen face in her hands. "Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care."

"He'll kill you, Lily," James croaked, looking up into her eyes. "He’d kill you to keep me in line.”

She refused to release his face to wipe her tears away. Her thumbs gently brushed down his tanned cheek, an attempt to soothe him, but his own tears continued to spill as he stared at her. The intensity of his gaze conveyed a sense that he was looking at her as if it might be the last time they would share such a moment.

Over her dead body would she let that happen, literally and figuratively.

"I want to marry you," she declared sincerely, her voice carrying the weight of her emotions. "I'll never love anyone else except you."

As she spoke those heartfelt words, Lily could sense the gravity of the situation sinking in. The air hung heavy with a mixture of love and the impending danger that James had spoken about. Yet still, she was seventeen, plenty of girls her age got married that young in the Seam. Sometimes even younger, if a husband is desperate enough to start popping out baby’s for more food rations.

“Lily.” James looked like he had the night she first said, ‘I love you,’ to him. Utterly helpless. “Don’t you want to do it on your own terms, not because we have too?”

"You have to get married," Haymitch said softly from his chair, his words carrying the weight of a harsh reality, "you won’t be able to wait long.”

“How quickly?” James asked.

“I’d say if you aren’t engaged by the end of the victory tour, one of you will be dead at Snow’s hand."

She didn’t know why she burst into tears at the thought. Lily felt James' hands come up, closing around hers in a reassuring grip. In one swift motion, he stood up, drawing her into a deep, passionate kiss. It wasn't the most technically perfect kiss they had shared, but it was undoubtedly the most emotional. As their lips met, he broke into a sob against her mouth.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his words muffled by the tender connection of their kiss. "This isn't how I envisioned us."

“I know,” she took deep breaths, trying to calm down, “I know you didn’t want this, want me, like this.”

“I’ll always want you, Lily Evans,” he said firmly, “but I wanted you with me by choice, not force.”

“I do choose you,” she argued, “I will always choose you, in this lifetime, and any others we meet.”

The weight of impending danger hung heavily in the air as James reluctantly pulled away from the kisses. Lily could feel the intensity of his emotions, a mixture of love, regret, and the looming threat that hovered over their lives. She wished they had been born somewhere else, anywhere else, so they could have lived a normal life together.

She didn’t even know what that meant, though; she just imagined something softer. A life where coal dust didn’t settle on everything, glasses were always filled, and holidays were filled with laughter. She envisioned it as James sang to her in the songs before sleep and as it was portrayed in the few banned books she managed to read from the seam.

Haymitch observed the scene, his eyes filled with a kind of sadness that spoke of experiences long-buried and sacrifices made. "You two need to make this believable. The Capitol is watching, and Snow won't hesitate to make an example out of you," he warned, his voice low and serious.

Lily nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She knew the Capitol played by its own twisted rules, and the consequences of defiance were severe. Still holding James' hands, she glanced into his eyes, silently conveying a shared determination to face whatever came their way.

“I shouldn't have chosen the berries.” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have played their games.”

"There wasn't a right or a wrong to choose in the Games," Lily gently withdrew her hands from his face and pulled him into a comforting hug. "You did what you had to do."

James's breath spilled against her ear as he embraced her back, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "Every time I look at you, I think about that moment and wonder how I could've gotten you out. I question if I should've sacrificed myself so that you could live, even if it meant living without me. I just don't want you to hate me for putting us in this predicament."

Lily gently pulled back, allowing her to peer into James's eyes. His gaze reflected a profound sense of brokenness, yet he didn't avert his eyes from hers again. "Give me the burden, give me the blame," she told him earnestly. "I don't want you pushing me away just to try and repent for something that's not your fault."

James's fingers slid up her neck, entwining in her red hair. "I wanted to shoulder the load, keep you from the shame, just in case I don't make it out of the next game."

"We never have to go back into that arena," Lily reminded him, her breath shaky. "All we have to do is mentor the new kids. You made sure of that, and I don't care if the districts think you were defying the Capitol. I don't care if no one believes we're in love. I love you, you love me, and we'll make it through whatever comes next together. President Snow can't hurt us now."

"Can't he?" James asked weakly. "He could make any one of our deaths look like an accident."

"And he will," Haymitch interjected, standing up to emphasize his point. "When you go on this victory tour, it won't end. Every year, with every new Games, Snow and the others will replay your story for the masses. They will bend and shape the rest of your lives to their will. They will control everything, from the number of kids you have to the hobbies you grow into. This doesn’t stop when you get off the train."

"What if we run away?" Lily asked Haymitch, shifting within James's arms that held her securely around the middle, keeping her close. "Go, live in the woods."

Haymitch's eyes remained void of emotion as he replied bluntly, "You'd be dead before you made it three miles."

"And if we don't do what Snow asks of us?" James inquired, a note of defiance in his voice. "What then?"

Haymitch gestured around his house miserably. "He'll kill everyone you love, or care about, and you'll end up just like me."

“Fuck.” James buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing deeply into it.

Lily's heart ached with a poignant sadness, recalling that Haymitch had once known the warmth of a family and the comfort of a real home. Now, all that remained were the empty bottles and their company.

"You have us," Lily gently reminded Haymitch, her voice carrying a note of compassion.

Haymitch lifted his moonshine bottle, taking a swig before reluctantly nodding. "For now." The weight of those two words lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of their makeshift alliance in the face of the Capitol's relentless control.

She used to pray to a God, like her grandmother had done before her. Lily wondered how many hail Mary’s it would take to set them all free. In the face of the Capitol's tyranny, she couldn't help but question whether the heavens were watching, whether their pleas reached beyond the confines of their oppressive reality.

Haymitch left them alone in the kitchen, heading upstairs to wash up in his single shower room. Lily made no move to leave James's arms, relishing the rare opportunity to feel the comfort and security he provided, a respite she hadn't experienced in months. He was her anchor, her safety net in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty.

"I missed you," she confessed, turning her head to plant a tender kiss on his scalp, reachable from her current position.

James responded by tightening his embrace around her middle, his nose nuzzling into her hair until his warm lips found solace on her neck. She raised one hand, tucking it against his head, cradling him beneath her ear.

"I'm sorry," he murmured between a cascade of kisses. "I am so sorry."

"For what?" she inquired, genuine confusion in her eyes.

He sighed, his breath warm against her skin. "You'll be guilty of inciting a rebellion by mere association with me, Lil."

"I don't care if we're found guilty," Lily asserted, summoning the courage to turn so they could be face to face again. "I don't care if we're not. We've all done good and bad things to get ourselves out of that arena."

James sniffled, his nose red from crying. "I should've killed myself and let you live. Then you would not be forced to marry me on someone else's terms."

"I would've married you, eventually," she said softly, her gaze unwavering. "I've been yours since the day with the bread."

His left hand slipped across her face. "But if I were dead, you'd be the only victor. The districts wouldn't see the berries as an act of defiance, and you'd be safe."

"If anything, I should've died," Lily argued, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I don't have anyone. You have your parents, Sirius, and Remus. You're all that I've got."

"Then I guess we both should have died," he joked, their foreheads pressing together in a tender moment. “The star-crossed lovers from district twelve.”

"Or maybe the Capitol will die," Lily sighed, brushing his hair back with a free hand.

"If you say things like that," he nipped at her nose playfully, "then we really will be meeting at the hanging tree. It's like this song my mum used to sing when she was weaving baskets…dad made her stop singing it around me...but I still remember it all."

"You've always had an ear for music." She nodded, "sing it for me, please."

James kissed her again, savoring the moment, before lightly pulling away to sing in a hushed tone, "Are you, are you coming to the tree, where a dead man called out for his love to flee…"

Lily's eyes fluttered open. "That's song is banned, you got detention for it once."

James tucked her hair behind her ear, a playful glint in his eyes. " Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight, in the hanging tree. "

"I don't like this song," Lily whispered, her voice barely audible. "I prefer the one you sang for Rue, before she died."

The glimmer of light in James's eyes dimmed at the memory of his little companion in the Games, before he and Lily had been reunited. "Snow said Rue's district is where the uprising started. He said my singing for Rue, and burying her in flowers, he said it was sacrilegious to pay her respect. That her death was the real honor."

Lily pouted, her discontent evident. "I don't see what's so honorable about killing kids like Rue and Thresh and Foxface."

“Yeah.” James sighed deeply and brought their foreheads together again. "I'm scared, Lily."

"Me too, James," she admitted honestly, her voice soft. "Me too."

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked tentatively, almost as if he were worried she’d say no.

“Every night,” she promised, “as long as you don’t let go of my hand during the day.”

“I can do that.” He wrapped his fingers against hers to show her he meant it. “You ready for interviews tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

#jily #lily evans #james potter #the hunger games #jily fanfiction #jily fic #Jily AU #jilychallenge #one shot

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charmsandtealeaves · 1 year

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This one may just become a micro-oops...

WC: 361 @jilymicrofics | April No. 9 Flush

He noticed her from afar the first time. It was hard to miss such vibrant red hair. She wore a white shirt that clung tightly to her curved frame and a pair of blue and white striped trousers. He’d taken this shortcut to Peter’s place more times then he could count and could recognise most familiar faces in this area but she was definitely a new one. She was frantically searching her handbag for something outside the butchers store. This beautiful eye candy was definitely worth a mention. James was so busy typing a rapid text about the mystery red to Sirius that he misplaced his footing and nearly ended up face first in the pavement. He looked up from his fall sheepishly, face flushed, to see if she had noticed. She hadn’t. The second time he saw her was electronically. He was lying in bed mindlessly scrolling Facebook as he did every night before sleep, barely paying attention by this point, when a bar photo caught his eye. It was her in a little black dress… he attempted to click into the post to enlarge it, but his damned clumsy thumbs hit the refresh news feed button instead and he was sent skyrocketing back to the top. The post was lost in cyberspace. He cursed himself loudly, Sirius knocked on the wall. It would be a case of third times the charm. He met her face to face this time for the briefest of moments. He was walking back from a lecture with Sirius, Peter and Remus when she came bouncing towards them from the opposite direction, a folder under her arm. This time she wore a green T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. God forbid - was she waving at him? He turned around and there was no one behind them. It had to be him. He waved back. She raised her eyebrow in confusion and shook her head. “Hi Remus, history at three yeah?” She asked. Damn… she’d been waving at Remus not him, Remus nodded as she hurried past them. “Moony, Who was that?” James asked once she was out of ear shot. “Oh that’s Lily.” Lily.

#charms library #jily microfics #jily #jple #jily fic #jily au #university au #muggle au #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #maybe I'll add to this...

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gryffindormischief · 4 months

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noctambulate

A/N: shout out to @petalsinwoodvale (the ultimate ride or die) and @annabtg who beta'd a draft of this in record time only for me to not do anything for months :')

I hope you enjoy!

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By the time Lily climbs aboard the Knight Bus, the sleeping berths are all claimed and she’s forced to do that awkward public transport (with the accompanying overstuffed backpack) shimmy down the aisle until she reaches an empty seat. Since she was eleven, Lily’s had enough occasions to ride that she’s fairly comfortable with the occasional jerking motions as the bus skitters across England. Luckily, the ride from Cokeworth back to London is fairly brief and once the bus reaches Diagon Alley, her flat is just two blocks away.

It was a bit annoying at first, the whole restriction on long range apparition and more importantly, apparating from even partially muggle communities. But logically, she knew that the growing magical population of age to apparate and the consequential increase in travel led to major interferences with muggle artifacts. One too many shorted out toasters, a few more fried kettles than strictly acceptable, and the muggle and magical ministries had brokered a temporary deal that involved less apparating until a longer-term solution could be dreamed up.

Aside from the inconvenience, overall Lily valued the forced exposure to other witches and wizards. It sounds silly and maybe a little sad, but if it weren’t for the trips she’s taken courtesy of the Knight Bus’s new extended route, she might not have seen another human that wasn’t barking orders at her in one way or another, for the last six months. It’s come to be a comfort to see Alfie’s friendly face as he asks whether she’s got any luggage to stow, his polite nod when she answers in the negative.

Except for today – tonight really – she’d had a hastily packed, utterly boring, and slightly stolen canvas duffle to stow below the passenger cabin. That plus the invisible baggage of her latest, and maybe last, explosion with Petunia.

---Continue Reading on Ao3 (log in to read)---

#jily #jily au #James x lily #sirius #remus #blarg writes things #jily fic

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thelighthousestale · 1 month

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3 Lemons and A Dragon

March 2024 @jilychallenge - Fairy Tales

My prompt was in three parts: 1.) A fair tale - The tale of the 3 lemons 2.) a fine line - "Why should I be satisfied?" from The Wishing-Table, the Gold-Ass, and the Cudgel in the Sack 3.) an magical beast or unbelievable scenario (Dragons threaten to destroy the kingdom, A and B must work together to stop them)

Partner: @harryissuchalittleshit

Once upon a time there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.

#harry potter fanfiction #james potter #lily potter #lily evans #jily #jilychallenge #jily au #im posting this and running away because I am really not happy with it #but i can't look at it anymore #this really was a challenge

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annabtg · 11 days

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Question for the readers!

I am worldbuilding for a Jily AU, and I've set up a universe where magic works a bit different but the dynamics are quite similar to HP:

Magic is a bit like a career in arts: you may be very naturally gifted at it, but you can also study it and learn it and become good at it nevertheless.

It tends to go down families, and there are some old magical families that will insist that their children should study magic - but anyone could choose to learn it even if they have no family background, and some people with no family background may spontaneously turn out incredibly talented at it.

Some of the old magical families believe that they should be the only ones with the right to learn magic, and that the only valid way to learn magic is through official education. They look down on practically educated magicians.

Officially educated magicians are called sorcerers/sorceresses, and practically educated magicians (through apprenticeships or taught by parents etc) are called wizards/witches.

This last one is a point of contention - my BFF, who plays D'n'D, insists that I've got it backwards, because a wizard is one who goes to school to learn magic, and a sorcerer is one with a natural talent for it. Yet I feel that the way I've set it up sounds better and maybe even more intuitive.

#the ironmaster au #jily au #poll

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meriyart · 8 months

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jily: anastasia au

#jily au #anastasia au #i had at the beginning on repeat #jily #james potter x lily evans #james x lily #my art

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myartcloudsstuff · 6 months

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I’ve come to feed you more Jily content because I can’t get enough Jily x Anna Karerina AU

#art #artists on tumblr #marauders #marauders fanart #hp fanart #marauders era #i love them so so so much #jily fanart #jily au #james is so pookie #james fleamont potter #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #fan art

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wearingaberetinparis · 27 days

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Chapter 13 - Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton - A Jily Bridgerton AU

It has most certainly been a while, but if you are still interested in reading The Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton... read Chapter 13 HERE!

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun. A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's Bridgerton.

#pinkest bluestocking of the ton #jily #jple #jily au #jily regency au #jily bridgerton au #jily fic #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans

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apalapucian · 24 days

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crossbow, gun, and magic

i. lily evans knows archery. loves it. grew up to it. she likes the power, the aesthetic. the quiet sort of majesty. the associated memories of her father in one of her wealthy uncle's farms, where he taught her how to shoot. everything was as green and blue as they could get. the field was so vast it felt endless to her as a child. the mountains on the horizon were crayon drippings of the sky, crushed cornflower, galaxies away. somehow they have all shrunk over time, so impossibly small when she visits, much later. (with james, a day after graduation, two years after her dad's death. dad, she says to the gravestone under the old apple tree, this is my boyfriend, james. the target board is chipped and fading but still nailed on the trunk. james's hand is laced with hers, his thumb running soothing lines along the length of her index finger. hello, sir, he says. bows slightly; makes lily chuckle. a real honor. and lily's heart soars, feels like the smooth swoosh of an arrow being let go; the sweet, clean piercing of the highest possible score.)

ii. sirius black's mum teaches him how to use a gun at as early as four years old. by the time he's seven, he's considered a prodigy. by the time he's nine, he's seen more dead bodies than he ought to at his age. (at any age, he realizes later, but not till much so.) by the time he's eleven, he's known enough to really question the 'family business', but not enough to know for sure who is safe to ask. the grey in his eyes turns from storm to smog, mellows from waves to murk, and he hates these words, loathes them; they are as horrid as what he's turning into. he hates almost everything. his reflection in the mirror. his reflection in his brother. god. hates hates hates watching himself in regulus. that same shift. that same — deadening. hates how he tries to stop it but he can't. by the time he's sixteen, he leaves. refuses pointblank for things to be too late for him, and runs. calls the storm back, yells, thrashes in his sleep. recreates the chaos, angers the elements. doesn't ever stay still long enough for the haunting to drag him back there. to — the itch of a starched suit in church, bags of money in candle-lit rooms. shiny red sneers around shiny white teeth. for as long as he lives he refuses to enter any establishment with stained-glass windows. vows to never touch a gun ever again.

iii. the kind of magic james potter does is the card-guessing sleight-of-hand kind, the same kind that won his mum over in a pub many many summers ago; the dust swirling in shafts of light as vivid now in memory as during its time. the way her index finger traced the rim of her topaz drink. the way her hair moved in the afternoon sun. if i guess your card, they ask, like father like son, will you let me buy you a drink? and it's the same old story. ace of spades. a smile that can't be helped. crooked skeptics muttering, of course that fucking boy gets that kinda girl; such is the unfair way of life. jukebox nostalgia and hazy florals on the dance floor and the girl saying yes once that one time, twice another, and then, somehow, by some miracle, yes forever. in this universe the kind of magic james does is the rabbit-out-of-the-hat coin-behind-your-ear flowers-out-of-nowhere kind; harry's peals of laughter high and bright in the yellow-painted nursery.

like stars, harry, sirius said. like uncle padfoot.

like how you boys make me feel, lily said.

iv. (the kind of magic james does is resurrecting hurricanes and hitting bullseye without really knowing it.)

#jily #jily*#jily modern au #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #jily au #jily fanfiction #jple #jily fic #???????#brain dump warm up dsjkfhdsfh sorry #writerisms #apalapucian*

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sweeethinny · 7 months

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my worst enemy is myself

Lily is my character to vent, I feel like she's a simple girl, and even though she's portrayed as someone super strong, something like Ginny is portrayed after what happens in CoS, I feel like she's the character where I can put the most real and raw emotions. Sorry if this is a little too melancholic, melancholy has been my favorite color lately in everything I write.

-------

Jealousy was something that Lily hated to experience, because in addition to making her feel like a huge idiot, it also made it clear to her that beneath the armor that hid her most intimate feelings, there was something that she refused at all costs to let show.

As she watched James and Marlene talking excitedly about whatever they liked, she thought that she would rather die than admit that she felt jealous, something so raw and unexplainable, towards her best friend. Of course she knew Marlene would never do that to her, she would never hit on someone Lily so obviously liked, but every time she let that side win, she thought that she wasn't that cool, pretty, attractive, fun and everything that was cliché, like Marlene was.

How would she explain that even though James kissed her and did almost everything she wanted, whenever she was watching him talking to Marlene she wondered if he would like to be with her more than with Lily. Wouldn't they be happier? They would be a beautiful couple, for sure, Marlene was a very beautiful woman, and Lily — secretly — envied her beauty. Her hair always seemed straight and shiny, her skin was silky and as clear as an angel's, her body was one that many women would die to have naturally without having to exert almost any effort.

It was a cruel comparison, Lily knew that, she was beautiful too. Her hair was beautiful, she believed that she had a minimally beautiful body even though to do so she had to make a tremendous effort at the gym and was still learning to deal with the possible bulimia that haunted her mind. She was hardworking, tried to be nice most of the time - but sometimes she was much more stressed and angry than Marlene, being hot-blooded and with a very dirty mouth as her mother always said - she kept the fun in her group of friends and tried hard to be good company.

How something that was so difficult for her, a constant effort that she needed to make to maintain, seemed so simple to Marlene, as if she had been born in that blessed way that few people had.

It was quite unfair.

And there were also all the other women, heavens, Lily was so insecure that her head hurt every time she had to go into battle with her own thoughts that tried to destabilize her at all costs, saying hurtful things in a way that only Lily knew how speaking to touch the most painful wound inside her chest, the sharpest memory that cut through her mind like a sword from one of the best swordsman to ever walk the Earth.

‘’What happened to you being quiet?’’ James asked, sitting next to her on the mattress that was making a sofa so they could all watch the movie that Lily wasn’t even paying attention to. The smell of popcorn next to her made her stomach turn like if just one of those greasy corns touched her mouth, it would make her explode like an overinflated balloon.

It was painful to compare.

Which it start with Marlene, soon spread to all the other women nearby, and soon, Lily was sucked into an anxiety that burned her chest, made her want to cry until she couldn't cry anymore, without being able to keep her breath controlled and her hands were shaking as if she hadn't eaten in over weeks.

‘’Nothing.’’ She managed to say, her voice was low and soft, in a way that she hated and reminded her of fights with her mother or Petunia where one of them would shout back irritably, a little politely ‘’stop whining!"

Every time she entered this whirlpool that swallowed her soul like a hungry demon, she felt her voice escape from her mouth like Ariel's after being stolen by Ursula, not knowing exactly how to articulate the words that her mind even thought of but didn't seem to know to put out. As a baby learning literacy, Lily only knew how to say key words like ‘’yes’’, ‘’no’’ and ‘’nothing’’.

Just like that, she managed to hide behind the protection she placed under herself, even if the protection hurt her more than it protected, because while she was trapped at the top of that castle, the thorns that prevented anyone from climbing the walls had already penetrated her room and itched her until her skin started to bleed.

‘’It doesn’t look like,’’ he insisted, then took the bucket of popcorn to her.

Lily took a deep breath, which probably lasted less than two seconds, in her mind it lasted two decades.

If she accepted that popcorn, something so simple and banal, it would give reason to the cruel and comparative thoughts that invaded her mind the moment she saw the oil being poured into the pan to make the popcorn, her stomach seemed to swell and the sensation of floating like a balloon was not a pleasant thing. But if she didn't accept it in return, she might seem boring, always being the one who didn't like eating things. How could someone be so… annoying.

So she accepted. Five popcorns couldn't kill anyone.

Lily smiled at James, poor guy, at one point or another he would realize that it was too tiring to try to follow her on this rollercoaster of emotions.

Even she couldn't handle the ups and downs, she felt a nausea characteristic of adventure toys, the kind that portends vomiting, and she knew it wasn't fair to make other people play with that type of toy when people didn't even agree or see the size of the roller coaster and how steep it could be in some parts.

The descents were so scary that they all seemed like the path to your death, making even the most adventurous feel fear and butterflies in their stomachs. The climbs were quick and made you lose your breath, even though the view from the top was beautiful, it didn't always last long.

''Is nothing.''

#james x lily #jily #jily au #lily evans #my fic

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