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corinnesamuels · 2 years

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Guarding the Gates

Chapter 18: Desperate, Desperate Need

Friends ... It’s time.

Summary:

"Promises are dangerous in our line of work."

When James agreed to take on the mission in France, he hadn’t expected to sit through so many meetings. Their mornings, afternoons, and even some evenings consist of check-ins with Mr. Phillips and his team. It seems inefficient, but since Phillips has yet to warm up to Lily and James, he refrains from suggesting that they instead extend their morning meeting, cut out the afternoon meeting, and limit the evening meeting to a brief check-in as needed (which shouldn’t be necessary at all considering they started the days with, you guessed it, a meeting).

James sighs and chooses the path of least resistance, missing how democratic Quidditch locker rooms could be when offering up ideas. If nothing else, Phillips’ meetings are much more enjoyable than some of the “family” events he and Lily have attended with Fletcher.

While Phillips is less than enthused by their presence, Prime Minister Fletcher has taken to James and Lily like a duck to water, and James and Lily both find him pleasant to be around. But some of the other people they’ve encountered at these events ...

At several different points, James has been hit on, rather shamelessly, by women who have no qualms about his — unfortunately fake — marriage status. One looked old enough to be his grandmother, which is really saying something considering how old his father is.

Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s also had to contend with seeing Lily fending off suitors of her own. More than once, Lily commented on how well James took to pretending to be a “growly husband.” He’d been so irritated while turning away one of her would-be suitors that he nearly let it slip that it wasn’t an act.

But nothing had been worse than a luncheon he, Lily, and Fletcher attended with the Governor-General of Australia. There was nothing much wrong with him, except for the fact that it was his idea to invite families, which meant that James had to spend additional time refraining from punching Roger in the face. Lily had tried to give him a pep talk before the luncheon, saying, “Oh, come on, James, it won’t be the most enjoyable thing we’ve ever done, but it won’t be that bad.”

(It was absolutely that bad.)

As Phillips powers through the rest of his notes, James makes a half-hearted attempt to keep his mind from wandering even further. One of the few benefits of this bizarre mission is that the need to stay alert and assess their surroundings is enough to keep his mind occupied on other things besides whatever irritation he may face. The additional benefit is, of course, the ample time he’s able to spend with Lily, though that sometimes distracts from the first benefit. Especially when the strain on his heart — and another vital appendage — complicates things to a sickening degree.

The idea to go to the pool a couple of nights before had been a spur-of-the-moment idea. James knows Lily won’t ask for help if she can help it, and he’s spent enough time studying her to see the stress lying just beneath her carefully constructed façade. James is happy to comfort her, though he knows he isn’t as sure as he projects himself to be when he attempts to calm her down.

It’s a strange feeling for him, doubt. He doesn’t like it. James has been many things in his life, but unsure is typically not one of them. The war and all the things that have come with it seem to have turned the world upside down.

“…security sweeps before the Prime Minister returns from the meeting, and then another after this evening’s gala. I’m sure our guests will have their own sweeps they would like to conduct?”

James, still replaying scenes from the pool with Lily in his head, registers the question a moment later and nearly laughs at the look of disdain covering Phillips’ features.

“Yes, we’ll do a sweep of the grounds before the gala and another this evening once everyone has gone to bed.” He says before turning to Lily, who nods in agreement.

Phillips merely raises an eyebrow at this and makes a note in the margins of his notebook. “Noted.” Mr. Phillips nods, and James registers something almost resembling approval on the man’s face. “Well, everyone has their marching orders. Let’s be prepared to have the Prime Minister and our guests at the gala at 7 p.m. sharp.” Phillips gives Lily and James a stiff nod before leaving the room, his security team following him out the door as they head to their posts.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were growing on him.” James whispers as he and Lily stand to take their leave as well.

Lily fights to stifle the laughter that slips out of her mouth, and James hates that he’s missing out on the sound. “Shall we check the grounds as we pretend Phillips enjoys our company?”

“Might as well. I’ve been thinking about expanding the disapparation spells while we’re here.”

“Good call.” Lily nods. “After seeing Bellatrix the other night, I’d like to give the house as much protection as possible. Accommodating the muggles makes things a bit more difficult, though.”

James agrees. Concealment charms and other spells would be the easiest way to add a layer of protection, but it would also make it more difficult for the muggles to access the house. While Mr. Phillips’ team does routine rounds around the perimeter of the house, they can’t detect magic. James knows this because they haven’t noticed a single one of the wards he and Lily put up since they arrived.

He and Lily take a long lap around the grounds, adding an additional anti-apparition jinx since they can’t amend Madame Maxime’s. As they walk, they laugh and reminisce on old memories, both trying to take the other’s mind off the cemetery and the unsettling feeling of not knowing what is happening back home. They’ve followed Dumbledore and Moody’s order against attempting to communicate with anyone in England so far, but James was quite tempted to ignore it last night.

“This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.” Her voice pulls him back from the cemetery.

“Adjusting wards?”

“Being out of the country.” Lily corrects him. “Almost feels like we’re on holiday, if it weren’t for the existential dread and the constant threat of attack looming over us.”

James snorts. “You always were so good with words.”

Lily shoves his shoulder in response. “No, really. When’s the last time you went on holiday?”

James scratches at the stubble on his chin. Between inferi, hospital visits, and this mission, he hadn’t bothered to shave. It itches a bit, but he thinks it may be growing on him. “A few years, honestly. Hopped around a bit with Sirius, Remus, and Peter during the break after my first year with Puddlemere.”

“I’m sure you lot found a few ways to get into trouble, too.”

James winks at her in response, smiling as she shakes her head. But the truth is that they went on the trip because Sirius had been trying to get him to stop moping about after Lily left. It had been easier to find distractions during the season, but once it was over, he’d been so miserable that Sirius very nearly staged an intervention.

“What about you?” He asks. “You visited some nice places while you were gone.”

Lily shrugs one of her shoulders as they walk. “Sure, I’ve been here and there. But we were too preoccupied with tracking and dodging Voldemort for any of that to feel like a holiday. I haven’t taken a real one since my parents were still alive.”

“We’ll have to change that.” The words slip out of James’ mouth before he has a chance to catch them. Lily’s step falters beside him, and he scrambles for a cover-up. “Me and the lads, you, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary. Once the war is over, we’re heading to Nepal to see these trees you’ve been determined to see.”

Lily smiles at that. “Careful, I’ll hold you to that.” Then she laughs. “Can you imagine Sirius, Peter, and Marlene meditating with the monks?”

James stops for a moment and imagines their friends’ attempts — or half-arsed attempts, in Sirius’ case — at being zen amongst the monks and their anti-gravity trees. “We’ll most certainly be thrown out.”

“I’ll make the most of it while I can.” She shrugs again.

“I give it 15 minutes.”

“How ambitious of you!”

James laughs softly this time, distracted by the way the sun’s rays reflect off Lily’s hair as they walk back towards the house. She chatters on, oblivious to his staring and the way her earlier words play on repeat in his mind.

“This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.”

He imagines them, not with their friends, as he’d hastily said earlier, but alone. Wining and dining with her, spending the days sightseeing or lounging lazily on a beach somewhere, and the evenings wrapped around each other until the day breaks again.

And though pleasant at first, the thought settles unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach, where all his other daydreams about her eventually go to die.

“James? Are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

Her brow is furrowed as she looks at him, and James realizes that he'll have to do a better job of not being distracted. Easier said than done when she places her hand softly onto his shoulder, and the sun makes the greens of her eyes shine the way it does.

“You looked like something was wrong. Like you felt ill or something.”

James forces a laugh. If only she knew. “It’s nothing. Just remembering yesterday’s lunch with Roger.”

Lily groans. “I know I told you that it wouldn’t be that bad before we went … but it was absolutely ‘that bad.’”

James gives a dramatic sigh. “Well, far be it from me to tell you that I told you so.” He grins at Lily’s responding scoff before looking down at his watch. “I guess it’s about time for us to start getting dressed for the gala. Where has the day gone?”

“No idea, but I’m going to see if I can bother the staff for tea first.” Lily says as they approach the front of the house and nod their hellos at the security manning the door. “Would you like some?”

“No, thanks. I’ll go ahead and get showered and dressed, though, so you can have the bath once you’re finished.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods his head toward the direction of their room—their room, Merlin.

“You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Lily smiles before heading toward the kitchen, and for a moment, James can only stand there and watch.

This wouldn’t be so bad under different circumstances.

He shakes his head and walks to their bedroom, determined to get his thoughts back into focus. Fletcher described the gala as one of the hallmark events of the summit and perhaps a gathering too tempting to pass up for some. The odds of making it through the evening without a threat of some kind are very low.

By the time Lily returns from the kitchen, James is dressed in his shirt and the pants of the tuxedo Remus and Sirius had helped him find. Remus, more like. Sirius spent half of the time laughing about all the different styles of dress muggles had for events.

“All yours.” He says, gesturing toward the open door of the en suite as she walks into the bedroom.

“Oh, perfect. I came back just in time.” Lily says as she gathers her garment bag. “I know you said you didn’t want tea, but I brought you back a cup just in case. There’s a warming charm on it.”

James smirks as he leans against the dresser. “And did you make it the way you take your tea? Or like a civilized person?”

She laughs at this. “My way is the civilized way!” Lily calls as she walks into the bathroom.

But when he takes a sip, he finds she’s made it the way he prefers. It brings a smile to his face. Not the smirk from earlier, but a soft, genuine smile he feels as he rubs his thumb over the floral design on the side of the cup. He’s brought her tea for most of their time on the mission, knowing she isn’t a morning person and will pull herself together just in time for Mr. Phillips’ morning meetings. Just as they’d both done for the occasional early morning meetings and late-night surveillance for the Order, he’d had a cup waiting for her each time.

And while Sirius teases him for it, James remembers all the times she’d done the same at Hogwarts. Tea, the biscuits he liked, and the occasional treacle tart on days he had to leave dinner early for Quidditch practice. Small gestures that meant the world to him then, when he was still in awe that they’d managed to become such close friends and hoped it would turn into more.

And it almost had, hadn’t it?

It had. It all led to that night at the boathouse when everything changed. He couldn’t have predicted that it would all change again just a few days later.

It almost makes him wonder —

“Oh! I thought you’d be dressed already. I was rushing and felt like I’d taken too long in there.”

He turns around at Lily’s voice and does a double take when he sees her. He’d been subtly (he hopes) losing his mind each night when Lily came out of the bath wearing whatever dress she’d chosen for the evening’s family charade with Fletcher. But this … this almost knocks the wind out of him.

Dark green fabric drapes over her form in a way that shouldn’t even be allowed. James' mouth goes dry, and he’s so distracted that he has to remind himself that she’s still talking.

“I guess I probably could’ve done more with my make-up, but I’m too fidgety to be bothered at the moment.”

James frowns at this. Lily typically doesn’t fidget. “You’re perfect.” His voice sounds almost strangled as it meets his ears but damned if he cares. But he takes his time looking her over once more, this time with concern.

She pauses for a moment before turning back to him. “Then why do you look so bothered?” Her lips drop into a slight frown as she puts on earrings that James recognizes as a pair she’d picked from his vault in Gringotts.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. Something must be if you’re fidgeting.”

Lily closes her eyes with a grimace at this, as if she’s kicking herself for letting that slip. “The gala makes me a bit nervous. The last time we went to a gala ... It’s silly, really. We’ve seen so much since then.” She looks down at the floor with a sigh before moving to put on her heels.

James stiffens at the memory. He can see it all so vividly in his mind. Laughing and mingling as everyone arrived. An explosion catapulting Sirius and Remus into the air. Fear seeping into his bloodstream when he couldn’t get to his father or Miranda. Lily’s screams after being hit by the Cruciatus curse outside of that cave.

It had been all he could do to hold on before Dumbledore arrived, but he’d still ended up in St. Mungo’s with Healers working double-time to regrow his skin.

Lily was right. They had seen so many other things since then. Things that still haunt James’ dreams at night. Hell, it’s been less than a week since he and Lily fought their way out of a house filled with inferi. And while the Order is still just as committed to its mission, they still haven’t shaken the heaviness of Benjy’s death. The sound of it. Lily’s screams may haunt his nightmares, but Benjy’s … he’ll never forget that sound.

He clears his throat, shrugging on his tuxedo jacket and taking time to adjust the cuffs of his shirtsleeves underneath it. “It’s not silly.” James says finally. “But here’s to hoping this is just a regular, boring gala, where the most disruptive action is one of the dignitaries having too much to drink and making a fool of themselves on the dance floor.”

“A dignitary? Or you?” Lily smirks, though James knows that she — much like him — is working to direct the conversation to more pleasant shores.

He gives her a lopsided grin before taking her arm. “I’m never ashamed of my work on the dancefloor, love.”

James and Lily have been in and out of the banquet hall all week, but it’s been completely transformed for the gala. New pieces of art span the walls alongside ice sculptures and extravagant floral arrangements stationed throughout the ballroom and the gardens. A string quartet strums away in the corner, and James feels he’s been transported back to one of his mother’s galas. He can almost smell her perfume in the air and remembers how it used to signal that she was close enough to hear whatever crass jokes James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were telling to pass the time.

He feels a familiar pang in his chest at the memory. To say he missed his mother would be an understatement. It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed since the funeral. His life has changed so much since then. His mother’s death, Lily’s return, ending things with Miranda, working for the Order, and the way the shadow of the war with Voldemort seems to touch every aspect of life now, it all seems to bleed together. He thinks — he hopes — his mother would be proud of him. She’d have loved Lily being back, James knows. Euphemia would be relentless in her attempts to get Lily and James together. She never had been very moved by his relationship with Miranda, probably because she knew that James had never been much moved by it either, though even he hadn’t realized it at the time. It had been a desperate attempt to move on from someone he never thought he’d see again.

But Merlin, here she is in the flesh. Fielding small talk with dignitaries as if she was born into this world. Making them fall in love with her as he had and causing them to fall in lust, too, based on the wandering eyes that seem to linger over her frame when they think she and James aren’t looking. They have enough propriety to pretend to look ashamed when he cuts his eyes and clears his throat at them, but he can’t blame them for it, really. He’s been sneaking glances of his own behind the glass of scotch the Prime Minister had passed him soon after they arrived.

“James,” Lily says, eventually catching his eye. “Shall we go look at the new paintings in the ballroom? I have it on good authority that they are simply inspired.” She nods at the ladies she’d been speaking to while James had been in his reverie.

“Of course, love.” James extends his arm to her again before bowing his head in farewell to the other women. “Ladies. It’s been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is ours.” One replies. James pretends not to see the way her eyes rake over him as she says it. But based on the way Lily grips his arm, he suspects Lily also noticed it.

“She was quite shameless at the way she looked at you during our conversation.” Lily whispers as they walk toward the ballroom, smiling politely at the people they pass along the way.

James feels rather smug at the miffed tone of her voice and allows himself to pretend that it’s jealousy that he hears. “Well, I’m not surprised, considering the way her husband’s been looking at you all week.” Lily rolls her eyes, but James just grins. “What did you really want to do? We saw the paintings when we first arrived.”

“Escape.” She mutters. James laughs from behind the glass of scotch he was still nursing. “But we should probably get back to Fletcher. Everything seems to be all clear this evening.”

And thank goodness for that. A muggle had attempted to sneak into the evening dinner the night before. He was quickly apprehended before he managed to reach any of the dignitaries present, but once he was searched, security teams discovered weapons and rope on his person. He later confessed to an ill-advised kidnapping attempt that he thought would draw attention to governmental excess and waste on vain frivolities at the expense of working people.

“Can’t exactly argue with him on that one.” Lily muttered as Phillips praised the training and capabilities of the security teams who apprehended the man. James noticed the smug look Phillips threw in Lily and James’ direction in that evening’s security meeting, as if the incident was proof that Lily and James weren’t needed that week. James smirked and almost pointed out that it had been members of the German and Grenadian security teams that apprehended the man, not Phillips’ team, but Lily shot him a look that very clearly said, ‘Don’t you dare.’

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#Harry Potter #jily fanfic #jple #fanfiction #Lily and James are stressed and so am I #slow burn starting to look like a regular burn now #Guarding the Gates #First War with Voldemort

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