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A Cozy Little Scene


Nutmeg… citrus… cinnamon… star anise…

Lily shifted, the weight of James Potter’s arm over her, holding her close, his elbow folded around her elbow, their fingers twined together, his hand held tight in hers, clutched to her chest, his knees folded to hers, his chest to her back, his cheek against her head as he curled about her… the big spoon...

God. That smell.

That touch.

She was dizzy. She was intoxicated by the feeling of him and the sheer weight of his body leaning against hers, all heavy and wonderful and his lips pressed to her temple, soft and warm…

This is where I want to be for the rest of my life.

This is where I belong.

Right here. In James Potter’s arms.

Her eyes popped open.

Sunlight streamed through wide windows; early afternoon sun, golden, with dust motes dancing in it, warm and delicious and pooling over them like a spot light. They were in the library, on the floor, there were James’s glasses beside her, and the Marauder’s Map, and a leather bound copy of Beedle the Bard, and a nearly empty Firewhiskey bottle, dripping the last of it’s contents onto the carpet…

Lily sat up, James’s arm falling away from her.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no. No. Oh no.” She looked around.

“Evans…” James murmured, clearly still coming down off the drink, his eyes closed, lips puffy from kissing, face still flushed from the whiskey…

He’s beautiful. She couldn’t help but think it. His eyelashes were so long… so thick… and his hair fell over his forehead in soft wavy strands… shaggy and messy and incredibly perfect... Lily reached over and ran her palm over his cheek, feeling the scruff of the hair on his chin, along his jawline… her thumb ran over the plumpness of his lower lip… and he hummed quietly, bringing his hand up to hold her hand there and he kissed her thumb softly.

“Potter…” she whispered. “Wake up.”

“Not yet, Sirius,” James murmured.

She hesitated. “James. Wake up.”

“Best dream ever, please…” he whispered.

Lily leaned down and whispered in his ear, “You aren’t dreaming; wake up.”

His eyes fluttered hesitantly… his eyes rolling up to meet hers as his eyelids parted, her thumb still on his lips, her hand still cupping his cheek, his legs twisted over hers. He blinked rapidly up at the blurry shape of her, at the smear of ginger before him, the bright light streaming around her, making her glow, making the blurriness of her surreal, like a strange watercolour…

“Evans?” he asked.

Lily’s thumb left his lip and she turned, picking up the glasses from the floor and slid them onto his face gently. He closed his eyes as the frames slid past his temples and over his ears, and he blinked, adjusting his vision to the sudden clarity, and there she was… perhaps even more unbelievable and surreal in focus than she’d been blurry. He stared up at her, his mouth still open, a gape, his eyes searching her face, waiting for the hallucination to end…

“You’re -- here,” he said thickly. “You’re -- we’re -- I’m here. You’re here. We’re -- we.”

“Basically,” Lily said.

James stared up at her. “But -- Evans… I’m - I’m me. Why are you with me?”

“I think the Firewhiskey may have influenced this particular situation,” she replied.

He sat up slowly, his mind completely spinning more than any firewhiskey could ever do to a man, boggled by the situation, by her sheer presence, by her existance, even. He brought one knee up and draped an arm over it, staring at his toes, at his socks, his trainers kicked off a few steps away, under a table across the room… her mary-janes beside them…

He spotted the book and the empty bottle and his eyes scanned over her - making sure she was still all clothed and she was and he felt a bit better… and he ran his hand through his hair, looking around the room, taking in the shelves and the dust over the spines of the books that towered over their heads to the ceiling…

“We’re in the library,” James said, looking around.

“We are,” Lily nodded.

“What’re we doing in the library?”

“I’m guessing we were reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard,” Lily replied, holding up the book.

James stared at the book a moment and closed his eyes as wobbly memories echoed about his head… his own voice reading loudly the Fountain of Fair Fortune, performing it, really… and Lily’s laughter… he could hear himself singing, could hear her singing, too… Joy to the world… to all the boys and girls... Blurs of color, of running along dark corridors, whispering, giggling, checking the Map for Filch, clutching onto her, her clutching onto him… the world at three in the A.M., clouded by firewhiskey and the intoxication of Lily Evans… vanilla and strawberry and soap...

He looked from the book to her eyes.

He didn’t know what to say.

He was afraid to speak at all.

Afraid to break the spell.

Afraid she’d realize where she was, afraid she’d realize who she was with, that she’d run away…

He didn’t want her to go.

He wanted to stay right here.

Right where he belonged.

With Lily Evans.

He stared at her and she stared back at him.

Then… tentatively… slowly… heart thumping like a drum beat within him so loudly he could feel it in the very tips of his ears… James leaned forward… and Lily did, too… their noses bumped… eyes closed, breath mixing between them… their lips touching, only barely… about to press…

And then there was a bang - the library door slamming opened - and there was a shout and they both looked up to find Argus Filch and his cat in the doorway, glaring at them… a hungry, satisfied sort of expression upon Filch’s gaunt, drawn out face.

“Well my, my, my,” Filch hissed, “Isn’t this a cozy little scene?” He rubbed his hands together. “Was right, he was; thought he was making it up, I did. Almost didn’t come to check. And here you are! Just like he said!” he cackled. “Good bit of trouble, you’re both in now.”

James had never hated Filch more.




“They have to be somewhere in this bloody castle!” Sirius said, exasperated. They’d been everywhere he could think of and Remus was running out of energy, worn down from the full moon and leaning against the walls, pausing to breathe and close his eyes every now and then… They were in the trophy room, having just checked the passageway for them in the alcove, and having found nothing at all.

“They wouldn’t have gone back to the Shack, do you think?” Peter asked.

“Dunno,” Sirius murmured, “Maybe.”

Remus’s voice was weak, “Too bad we can’t just accio them to us.”

“I’m hungry,” Peter whined. “Perhaps they’ve gone to lunch.”

“James Potter just casually go to lunch after snogging Lily Evans?” Sirius said, scoffing. “Bleeding hell, I’m more afraid he’s laying dead somewhere after having a coronary! If he isn’t dead, there would be a bloody aeroplane writing the news in the sky. I SNOGGED EVANS, is what it would say in thick grey smoke…” Sirius waved his palm across the sky as though he could see it already.

Peter said, “Maybe he’s gone back to the dorm and we’re out looking for him and we’ve just missed each other.”

Remus slid to the floor before the display case, holding his forehead, exhausted.

“Maybe,” Sirius said. He looked at Remus, then back to Peter. “We should go and check.”

Peter nodded.

“C’mon, Moonpie,” Sirius said and he swept across the room and pulled Remus up, tugging his arm ‘round his shoulders to support his weight. “We’re gonna go back to the dormitory. You alright, my love?”

Remus nodded. “We gotta find James.”

“We’re gonna check the dorms.”

They started up the stairs, Sirius all but carrying Remus as they went, and Peter scrambling along ahead as they passed a couple Ravenclaws whispering to each other, their eyes bright wit gossip…

The boys were nearly to the top of the stairwell when Peeves came floating toward them, cackling merrily. He spotted the Marauders and he tumbled through the air, clutching his knees as he hung upside down, his transparent face centimeters from Sirius’s as he dragged Remus up the steps. “My favorite students!” he said, grinning.

“Peeves, go away,” Sirius said.

Peeves clapped his hands, “Peevesy doesn’t want to go away! Peevesy has a question for you, Sneaky Snoopy Sirius.”

“Yes, I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” Sirius snapped.

“Not the question Peevsey has! NOT THE QUESTION PEEVESEY HAS!” he cackled, clapping. “Isn’t it true you’re looking for Potty-Wee-Potter?”

“Yes, Peeves, we’re looking for Potter,” Sirius said, still exasperated.

Peeves cackled again. “Peeves knows where he is.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all exchanged glances.

“Where is he, Peeves?” Remus asked.

“Filch has him! Him and Lilly Loo Evans!” Peeves spun about, clapping. “Caught being very naughty, they was! Very naughty indeed! Kissing in the library!”

Sirius’s eyes widened.

Peter bit his lips.

Remus groaned.

Peeves grinned wickedly.

Sirius paused, then, “Pete, can you help Rey the rest of the way upstairs?”

“I - I guess so,” Peter replied, and he scrambled to the step to take Sirius’s place under Remus’s arm. “Where are you going?”

Sirius grinned, “To rescue The Jily, of course…” He started down the stairs, taking them two at a time, “Obviously - can’t let them get in trouble for snogging when it’s taken so bloody long for them to get to it!” And just like that, he was ducking ‘round the next flight, disappearing into the corridor, and Peeves went zipping along after him, cackling all the way, sing-songing a little tune:

Off to free wee Potter
And Missy Evans too
After they got caught-ter
Doing a-snog-a-snoggy-snog-roo
!”

Peter stared after them, quite nervous. “I hope he knows what he’s doing!” he murmured.

Remus said, “Pete, c’mon, it’s Sirius. He’s always got a plan.”