It was Seventh Year at Hogwarts, and despite her various denials and countless rejections, all Lily Evans could think about was one certain bloke. The heartthrob Gryffindor Chaser, lusted after by every girl at Hogwarts. Besides herself, according to her second-nature refutations. That is, Mr. James Potter.
He was the main character in her diary, with his name appearing at least once on every page of her daily accounts of her Hogwarts years. A mention of how attractive the dedicated blaze in his eyes was before a Match, or something clever he had said in Defense Against the Dark Arts that had made a true and lasting impression on her. Of course, lately, everything about James was making an impression on Lily. She found herself sketching hearts with their names joined within, and sometimes, she’d even pen the name Mrs. Lily Potter on scraps of parchment. But that was absurd. Utterly ridiculous, in fact. She had no feelings for James. None. He was an arrogant toerag. She’d said it herself, many a time. That’s what she had been convinced of for years, and she was not going to believe that this had changed. After all, people don’t truly change. The essence of any person remains the same, and for James, he would always emanate an aura of a contemptible fool, right?
She was often caught daydreaming of late, yet no one knew the reason for the absentminded smiles that spread across her face when her eyes became glassy in the middle of a lesson. Lily was a model student, the brightest of her age, and Head Girl, at that. She couldn’t let a silly, egotistical boy muddle with her priorities.
But, when it came down to it, she couldn’t help herself. Lily was kept awake that night, as she was on numerous occasions, her thoughts rushing through her mind like an overflowing cauldron. James. James and Lily, together. They’d finish school, and he’d be hired at the Ministry, one of the Wizarding World’s greatest Aurors, while she became a Hogwarts Professor, teaching Potions as soon as Slughorn retired, like he was constantly threatening to do. She would marry him, James Potter, having an enormous Wizarding Wedding, unlike any ceremony Lily herself had ever attended. She’d be Mrs. Potter, and the two of them would be the most jovial couple in all of Britain. Hell, in the entire world, Wizard or Muggle! The house, it’d be a decent size, in an all Wizarding village, like Godric’s Hollow; a spacious backyard would accompany it, with room enough for a Quidditch Pitch, unseen by any prying Muggle eyes. Oh, and children. Two of them, one boy and one girl; she could see them now. Their son, she imagined, was a beautiful boy with untidy black hair and glasses like his father, but the emerald green eyes that were a reflection of her own. The little girl, their darling daughter, would be the image of her mother, with matching, long red hair and a blissful smile, yet with eyes the chocolaty shade of James’s. The Potters. She saw their future, clearer than any prophecy made by even a Seer of the highest caliber. But no. There was no future for them. Lily would never be with James. Never.
Life would go on, no? James would learn to fancy another witch, and chances are, she’d actually fall for his charm, unlike Lily. And Lily…well, Lily would be fine. She’d gone without James for so long, and all she had ever hoped for was that he would leave her alone. With a little figurative Felix Felicis, her fortune may have changed. Though, she thought, was that what she really wanted? She had a restless night, to say the least.
When she groggily awoke the next morning, Lily was pleased to recall that it was Saturday. She would not have been able to concentrate in her classes, what with thoughts of his eyes sparkling, his smile dazzling, his messy hair windblown from flying at Quidditch…Quidditch! Today was the Match for the Cup!
Lily jumped out of her four-poster, slipped into a scarlet and gold jumper and a pleated grey skirt and hurried to the bathroom. She quickly brushed her teeth and combed her straight, red hair so that it parted on the left side, as she always did. She didn’t truly need make up, but she added a hint of mascara for good measure, just in case he saw her. Which he would, there was no doubt about that. Even if I’ll never be with him, there’s no reason not to impress him, she thought, as she slipped her feet into her black Mary Janes, and sped down to the Quidditch Pitch, her charcoal grey cloak in hand.
Once she arrived at the Pitch, she hastily made her way to where her best friend and dorm mate, Mary, perched, with whom she playfully scolded for not waking her when she left for the Match, which was to begin in a few minutes.
“You’d been mumbling in your sleep all night, something about a tame otter, maybe? That’s what I heard. I thought maybe you’d want to rest. But what the bloody hell is a tame otter?” Mary questioned, obviously curious. Thank goodness Mary’s as clueless as she is right now, thought Lily, who shrugged the mild interrogation off, claiming not to know what a “tame otter” may have been doing in her dreams, when she knew for a fact that a James Potter certainly ran the show in her sleeping subconscious.
They heard someone blow a whistle down on the ground of the Pitch, and fifteen brooms rose into the air, two teams and a referee. Amidst the scarlet and the emerald clad teams, James was immediately spotted by Lily. He was nearest to the Gryffindor section, open for a pass of the Quaffle. He may be the Captain, thought Lily, but he sure isn’t set on having a one-man team. In the first five minutes, Gryffindor had scored thrice already, and only one was directly shot by James. Even though he was in the clear to shoot the others, he had been quick to give his fellow Chasers a chance in the spotlight; this was something Lily had never truly noticed until now. But, when she thought back on it, all six years that he had been playing Quidditch for Gryffindor, since his first year of eligibility, he’d never been a Quaffle hog. Maybe, just maybe, Lily thought with a small smile, James wasn’t as arrogant as she had thought.
The Match went on, and the spectators watched in anticipation. The score was not close whatsoever; Gryffindor was in the lead with two hundred points, and Slytherin was far behind, only able to scrape up fifty. However, if the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch, it’d end in a tie. But it was the Quidditch Final, there was no way they could tie; Gryffindor had to win! For James! No, thought Lily, no. For her House. Not a boy. No.
And then, as James’s greatest friend, Sirius Black, smacked a Bludger with his Beater’s bat at the Slytherin Chaser with the Quaffle, the Gryffindor Seeker made a dive, her arm outstretched. She pulled out of the dive with a smile spread from ear to ear, the Snitch’s wings fluttering in her hand. They had won, and the Cup was Gryffindor’s. Lily surveyed the stands. The Slytherins all wore haughty sneers, but that was something she had long since grown accustomed to. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked pleased, glad that if their Houses couldn’t win, that Slytherin hadn’t. And lastly, she looked around at her own House. Mary was shrieking with glee beside her. Her fellow Seventh Years that were not out on the Pitch themselves were all laughing and whooping. Focusing in, she noticed her studying partner, Remus Lupin, one of James’s and Sirius’s best friends and a Prefect that she had always made rounds with in Fifth Year, cheering with the other member of the boys’ group, Peter Pettigrew. He had a strange look about him, and he didn’t truly seem to fit in with the three coolest guys at school. But they accepted him, and that seemed to be enough explanation for the entire student body of Hogwarts, along with the teachers, too. Lily didn’t understand it, but she turned away from the odd boy and her late-night library-session acquaintance. She had more important things on her mind. Namely, one thing. Well, person. James.
He was taking a victory lap around the pitch. His jet black hair was ruffling in the breeze, and his eyes were alight with happiness and triumph. He held the Quaffle in the crook of his left elbow, the same hand gripping his new broom from the Comet line. As he flew around the Pitch, he waved with his right hand, flashing his bright smile. Lily swooned, and then looked around guiltily, relieved that no one noticed.
It was then that she decided to do it. She couldn’t take it any longer. Who was she kidding, anyway? James was down there, standing on the Pitch with his team, probably looking around for her, whom he most likely assumed would be seated, her nose in a book, like she used to be at Matches. It was different now, though. He had been in love with her since they met on the train as First Years. Now, years later, James Potter was still hopelessly in love with Lily Evans. And, miraculously, she fell for him, too.
Lily dropped her cloak, uncaringly, onto the bench and made her way to the stairs of the stands, ignoring Mary, who was hollering after her. Down the stairs, out of the exit, and onto the Pitch. She had a determined expression upon her lightly freckled visage, and she was striding toward James. He looked up, surprised to see her, the girl he loved, walking his way. She quickened her pace, her skirt billowing slightly, breaking into a sort of run, straight for James. Then, all of a sudden, James was right before her, and she leapt into his flabbergasted arms, her lips crushing into his. As held her there, her feet not reaching the ground, their lips practically fused together, the crowd grew silent. They were all watching intently, disbelieving. Lily Evans kissing James Potter? It had to be a mistake. But this was no faux pas, there was no blunder. Lily was kissing James.
Out of nowhere, the kiss still in progress, Sirius Black let out a cheerful cry, followed by one from each Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, far off in the stands. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, sans James, began to clap, and soon, every single teacher and student of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff began to join them, along with, astonishingly, a couple of Slytherins. When the two finally broke apart, Lily still in James’s arms, he was beaming, and she was blushing profoundly, a grin playing at her lips.
“Evans, where did that come from?” he asked, still smiling, not quite sure if he was dreaming. The beautiful, magnificent, perfect Lily Evans had kissed James Potter. “Not that it wasn’t the most bloody amazing thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life, since it absolutely and most definitely was, but-“ he added, exasperated, awaiting her reply and staring deeply into her striking green eyes, which were reflected in his intense brown ones.
“I, well, I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I suppose you’ve grown on me, Potter,” she said, grinning still as well. She inclined her head slightly, placing another light kiss on his lips, laughing. “I might even like you as much as you like me,” she joked, a giggle erupting from within her.
“Not possible, Lily,” James whispered, actually using her first name for once, as he leaned down, kissing her with much pent up enthusiasm, neither of them minding that the entirety of Hogwarts was looking on.
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