“Don’t look at me like that — I’m entirely proud of my genetics. I may not have a family of witches and wizards backing up my family name, but I have something better. I have a family history of do-gooders and lovers and people passionate about their opinions and their moral grounds. I have a history of kind people, of green eyes, of being tall, of having pale skin… I have a history that I am proud of, that was passed down onto me… I was taught, just like any pureblood child, who my great-grandparents were, who my cousins were… and I was taught to be proud of all of them. Well, except cousin Charles, he was a drunkard and kept landing himself in jail before he ran off with a barmaid… Er, yeah, none of us have heard from him since he showed up at Gran’s during Christmas six years ago. But, anyway, having a history of magic doesn’t make someone a better witch or wizard. It just seems to generally make a person snobbish. I’m a Mudblood, and I am proud to be one… even if being one pegs me as a prime target for this war raging outside — and, at times, inside — Hogwarts.”
slughorn tried consistently to get lily and severus reconciled so he could have his best potions partners as a team once more.
Lily knew the real furry little problem, and that it had nothing to do with a rabbit. She’s known ever since Severus first brought it up. Though she never admitted that she figured he was right on the money because Remus was her friend and she was protecting him, she did eventually tell Remus that she had known for years in their Seventh Year when he was struggling to come up with a reason for swapping patrol days.
Needless to say he was a bit on the surprised side.
study sessions in moderately private place ended up being either snogging sessions or sex sessions, depending on where they were. and when they fought over something during those study sessions, and they’d quit the sessions, nine times out of then they’d make angry bets over who’d crack first…. and then they’d try to seduce each other.
whether the fight lasted ten minutes or ten days (which was only once, thank god), whoever held out got a point.
the final count when they left hogwarts was lily: 37, james: 35.
and only because lily played dirtier than he did.
Lily knew about Remus’ ‘furry little problem’ ever since Severus had suspected it in their early years at Hogwarts. However, it hadn’t mattered enough to her to tell him she knew. After all, he was still the same painfully wary but nice person she’d known. She hadn’t wanted her knowledge to cloud their friendship and so would deny Severus’ claims.
When she finally let it be known to Remus that she knew what he was — and that only when she found out about the others — he seemed so surprised to find that it hadn’t mattered to her, that it had never mattered. That was angry not about him, but about the other three. It would always surprise her that he could be so unaware of the fact that it just wouldn’t matter to some people.
lily liked to keep their flat clean. unfortunately james didn’t have that same sentiment, and the other marauders were over enough that it didn’t matter — they were messier than james. however lily could never understand how the hell they managed to leave mugs, books, clothes, and other assorted items all over the bedroom when she could never catch them in there…
“Not only because it gave him another excuse to show off; it was the drill that moved him. The drill of flying, the drill of being excellent at something. He loved everything about it, the sound of the bludgers dodging, the sound of the quaffle making its way through the goal posts, the smell of the mud, sweat and leather, the colours, the cheering.
He loved how it was plain easy to find Lily in the crowd, how she’d never miss a match.
And still, he would give it all up for her. “
lily couldn’t fly a broom. eventually she just figured that she was rubbish at it the way people were rubbish at charms or potions. she just couldn’t do it, at no fault of her own… but she loved to watch the matches, watching everyone fly through the air and play the game. quidditch was her favorite sport.
lily liked to wear his clothes. not for any particular reason. they were mostly comfortable, which was appreciated. he always had great reactions to seeing her in his clothes, which was fantastic. and they smelled like him, which she needed when he was on order missions. it was a link between them, proof that he would come home by mangled logic. if something happened to him, how could his scent linger on his clothes?
after lily’s mum died, she and petunia took it upon themselves to send each other short, snotty letters and generally horrid presents. they rarely saw each other in person, but they never deviated from the letters and presents. even such paltry contact would have made their mum happy, so they didn’t stop.
the marauders had very specific dynamics. james was the leader, the charismatic outer polish of the group, and the glue. sirius was the face, the attractive one, and the one who came up with the funniest of their pranks and jokes. remus was the studious one, the one who knew the logistics of everything any of them tried to do and would list off all the reasons not to do something and then look the other way when they went on and did it anyway. peter was the one who was a bit of everything, flitting from one place to another, shouldering any task appointed to him.
Lily believed just as strongly as James in Peter as their secret keeper. She would have trusted Sirius with their lives, and Remus, and Peter. Of course she knew about the double agent. They all knew, had to know, because it threatened them all, and her family most especially.
But she never considered it to be one of them, and didn’t believe it of any of them. She trusted them all completely, just as James did.
james’ parents died while he was still in school. from some disease, something he never cared enough to ask about. it hadn’t mattered how they had died. it just mattered that they were gone and were never coming back. it was during this upheaval that lily was literally forced to see underneath the cocky outer layer of his personality she had always clung to with such determination.
he was broken, and she had always had a thing for fixing brokenness.
james didn’t look at lily, eleven years old, and decide to marry her then and there. and lily didn’t look at him, eleven years old, and decide to marry him. if anything, after their first contact, both disliked the other.
but by the time seventh year had rolled around, both had realized there could be something more. james pursued it, and lily ignored it. we all know who won out.
james liked hoarding his height over the girls in his year. it wasn’t his fault they were all small compared to him, at six feet. but then there was lily, who ended up at five feet ten inches, who wouldn’t be cowed by anyone. it figured that she’d be the one to stand up to him with her personality and her bloody height.