okay i’m done now. xD
Lily Evans yelling at James Potter for an unidentified reason. Circa Summer of 1978.
“You can’t do this!” It’s shrill, she’ll admit, but she refuses to wince. Even if James is feet in front of her, walking away. He says nothing, doesn’t even acknowledge that she has shouted.
“You can’t just snog me and then tell me Moody’s sending you off a week long mission!”
He’s whirled toward her now, and even from this distance she can see the anger prominent in every movement of his body. “I can’t just tell him no, it’s important or he wouldn’t ask.” He shouts it, but only because he’s so far away — she knows that if he was closer, he wouldn’t have shouted it. He would be trying to control the temper. And it’s infuriating that he has that ability.
“You led me out here to soften me up! ‘Oh, Lily, a nice walk, a little snogging — oh by the way, I have to go put my life in bloody danger, so long!’” He takes a step toward her, but stops himself, and she fumes.
“I’m not talking to you about this right now. I’m going on. Cool off.”
“Cool off? Why don’t you heat up? What, it doesn’t matter to you? It’s just a job? Who cares if I’m leaving my wife for a week to possibly die, what does it matter, she can handle it, she can handle anything —” None of them are fair cards to play, and none of them are particularly true, but she needs to see him angry, needs to satisfy the ugly little ball of hate inside of her that demands she make him hurt even a little but as much as she is worrying. He hasn’t even left yet but it feels like the worry will swallow her alive. So she takes it out on him because he can handle it, because he’s the one who can handle anything.
And because she knows that once they both cool down, he’ll know why she needed to shout at him and hurt him.
“We both know what this is about, Lily. I have to go.” He just sounds tired now — defeated, and it takes some of the heat out of her anger. “I can help. I know that I can, and Moody knows it or he wouldn’t send me. Remus is going too, he’ll keep me out of her trouble — and Sirius will stay here. And Peter, too. And you know they’ll both be in the house constantly.” He strides toward her, taking her arm. “I can’t promise I’ll be okay but you can’t promise you’ll be okay while I’m gone, either. And that eats at me.” He runs a hand over his face and she does the same, noting the tears that have started but ignoring them. He does too.
“We can’t stop the war, Lily. And we sure as hell can’t stop the worry. But we can stop taking it out on each other.”
She studies him. “I’ll remind you that, next time I’m the one going off for a week and leaving you here.” But she pulls her arm out of his grip to hug him, and they both accept the fact that they’re both speaking the truth. They’re try to talk to it out, but it isn’t how they work. She needs to shout, and he needs to shout, and they’ll shout at each other because they’re available and because they’ll understand.
But maybe they’ll talk it out more, too.
Lily Evans. Circa summer of 1975.
It’s a testament to how bloody tired she is that she doesn’t even flinch when she hears the crashes and the loud exclamation of “bloody buggering hell, fuck me.”
All she does is reach to the hat that someone had left at some point in the past and place is over her face. The sun had been in her eyes. Why hadn’t she shut the shades? Maybe she should call out to James, get him to shut them — but that would require speech and she doesn’t think she’s capable of that.
She hears the footsteps and prays that they will pass the door, but they don’t. She considers groaning, but decides against for the same reason she hadn’t called out to him: she was just too tired.
“I can’t believe they let you off first.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even move. It doesn’t even worry him.
“Where the hell did you get a zebra shirt? Isn’t that Alice’s? And that hat is definitely Dorcas’.” She says nothing, but she can hear the soft sound of fabric whispering against skin. Apparently he wasn’t as dead on his feet as she had been. “I hate sentry duty. Why did we think it was fun? It’s bloody torturous. I told Sirius that if he comes around before tomorrow I’ll actually kill him.” Why isn’t he just sleeping?
“James Potter, if you don’t shut the bloody fuck up and let me sleep I swear I’ll kill you when I wake up.” There’s silence, and she’s amazed she could say anything at all. “I would argue that if you fall asleep I had to stop talking so that statement negates itself but I’m too tired. I think Moody let me off duty because I fell asleep. On my feet. Literally, on my sleep. Who does that?” With that, he’s collapsed on the bed next to her, groaning.
She hasn’t moved.
“I would take that hat off and kiss you goodnight but I can’t move anymore.”
Within minutes, they’re both snoring.
Lily Evans. Taken by James Potter. Circa 1977
It’s warm out, unseasonably so — but she had been planning on ignoring it. There was so much to do that day, homework to do and tutoring sessions to lead and prefect schedules to schedule. Pretend that it was easy and simple and not making her go insane. Talk to people, so they knew she was still alive. And then burrow in the library, until Pince finally kicked her out with a hint of sympathy in her eyes.
But James had interfered. It hadn’t been hard for him, really, to convince her to take a break. That alone represented how exhausted she was: she really did a need a break, if she couldn’t argue well with James.
“We’ll just go outside, just for a little bit.”
“I can’t, I have things to do —”
“They can wait for an hour, Lily, really. C’mon.”
“I’m not dressed for this,” she begins again,
“I’ll cast a warming spell on your sweater… dress thing. What is that? No, nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
And with that he had hauled her up from the chair she had been sitting in, leading her outside while easily deflecting her attempts to escape his pull. The arguments are weak enough that he barely has to deflect them. He keeps his word, casting the warming spell even as he hauls her out the doors.
She has to blink a few times while her eyes adjust from the bleakness of the castle, and she sighs. Everything is so vibrant and bright and alive, a fact that she always manages to forget. It’s also something James loves to remind her.
He doesn’t have to pull her anymore, and they are instead walking hand in hand toward the lake. There are students everywhere, and people stop and ask them questions and just want to chat. James evades them, with a skill Lily can admire, but he knows that she won’t stay outside forever and doesn’t want to waste their time. So he plants her in the grass by the lake, amongst the scattering of trees, and sits a few feet away from her.
She studies him, and then looks out over the lake. And after a moment, she just falls backward onto the grass, kicking off her shoes and stretching.
“Lil?”
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t have to explain further for him to understand. It’s acknowledgment for having the foresight to know that she would need this break, and that she would appreciate it. It’s a thank you for knowing her well enough to know that she would regret not having this moment.
So a small smile curves his lips before he responds, “you’re welcome.”
They sit there, talking, as Lily remains stretched out on her back on the grass. At one point she curves her legs toward him, comfortably resting, and when the sun shines in her eyes she lazily slips a hand up to cover them.
“I have to get back to the castle,” she murmurs, sleepily enough that James knows that she’s lost the battle with herself. She would stay outside until he brought her back, and because he knows she won’t let herself relax like this until her workload is over — and Merlin knows when that will be — he lets his gaze slip to the students spread out across the grounds. And when he looks at Lily, he’s grinning.
“Everyone else is enjoying the nice weather. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”
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decided that i felt like drawing some james and lily
(via fuckyeahjily)
I LOVE THIS PART OMG
(via fuckyeahjily)
(Source: thefuuuucomics, via mrsweasley)
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(Source: amandaonwriting, via thegirlcalledm)
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Clear and present danger to the morality and sanctity of the American family, right there.
(Source: cloudsandsulfurintheair, via soundslikestars)
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