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evotter · 5 years

Note

jan, march, sept + one of your choice, love. have a great day, u icon

thank u kyra i adore u

january: what was the first fic you posted this year?

the first fic i posted this year TECHNICALLY was the epilogue of a different path. the first standalone was chewbacca (aka my introduction to the jily world once again and i have such a soft spot for it)

march: do you listen to music whilst writing?

yes! pretty much always; if it’s not music, it’s a TV show.

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

quite literally anything you’ve left on any of my fics BUT there are a few that i hold dear to my heart. i’ll post them under the cut cause they are LONG :’)

ancient: the first fic you ever posted online?

hahahaaaaaaa. it was my own version of rick riordan’s the son of neptune before the actual book was published. it was on ff.net, and the first chapter got 7 reviews, and i felt so good about myself after that lmfao. who knew i’d still be writing 8 years later?

ask me questions!

OKAY so i have 3 top favorites:

from a different path:

okay so i had seen this in someone else’s bookmarks the other day, thought it was an interesting concept—especially since i too love slytherin!percy and strongly subscribe to ofswordsandpens’ headcanons about it—but didn’t give it another thought until i was listening to a video about the cursed child and went: wait, there’s a percabeth hogwarts au that i saw somewhere. and immediately i hunted this down and i’m just in awe? i tore through it. belatedly, i realized that i made a mistake: i didn’t write down my thoughts as i was reading, which is definitely a disservice to you. however, here are a generalized list of things that i loved.

first of all, with hogwarts au’s, there are three main aspects that i look for: plot, characterization, and quality of writing. normally, fics of this size lack one or more of these key factors, but i was astonished to find that the plot is tremendously tight and intriguing (my lip bled from biting it so much because i’ve been stressed to the max), you write these characters with such distinct voices i can easily picture them saying everything—except, of course, now in a little british accent—and your writing flows so well, it feels almost like i’m reading an actual harry potter book, just with percy and co. you also do a masterful job of weaving together aspects of the pjo universe with the established canon of hp.

and there are so many specific things that i love. primarily, the way you write the relationships in this story; not just concerning percabeth (though i will get to that in a minute), but also with each of the interactions between all of the characters. i applaud you for how you handled luke/annabeth and rachel/percy, and the friendship among them all is just incredibly well done. i especially love how well you wrote connor and zoë and just, a lot of characters that i don’t often think about when i think of pjo. grover and percy’s friendship especially is heartbreaking, i just. he’s so protective because he loves his friends and holy fuck i also love how you wrote grover in this. but i just adored how you wrote annabeth/percy—the love between them, both platonic in its early stages and the romantic all throughout, was doubly apparent. i ached when they kissed each other’s cheeks, and i inwardly cheered when she kissed him in the locker room. there was just such a natural progression, to me, of their relationship. and man did i dig it. i’m excited (and maybe a little scared) to see where you take their relationship in the future.

boy, this is getting long. sorry. but some more just little quick things: loved the b99 reference, with both of their competitive natures playing out in a similar way to jake and amy’s. i kind of want to go back and see if i can find any other references that i missed because i was just too engaged in the story to catch them. also, zoë’s death killed me all over again, thanks for that. i like how you’re working the kronos plot in, and i can’t wait to see how the Final Battle plays out. what else? oh! professor hestia? beautiful. eventual maybe professor percy? outstanding. percy kissing the top of annabeth’s head? breathtaking. rachel being a quidditch commentator? earth shattering. (truly i cackled when i saw that.) mrs. o’leary being a cat? incredible. how you incorporated percy’s water powers? stunning.

ooh, this exchange was beautiful and had me cackling it was so in-character:

“None of us are dying.” Connor clarifies. “Not you, not me, not Annie, not the rest of us.”

“I might have to dispute that.” Annabeth says, from Percy’s other side. “Call me ‘Annie’ one more time, Stoll, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Connor only grins at her. “Sorry, love. No more ‘Annie’. Can I call you Beth?”

“No.”

“Anna?”

“No.”

okay, so i just finished chapter nine and i am blown away. sorry for how long this comment was, but a fic of this magnitude truly warrants it. i can’t wait to see what happens next.

i leave you with just two words: “holy shit.”

from a different path:

god, oh my god, am i the only dumb bitch who didn’t get what the prophecy was??

anyway, i stumbled on this fic last year, patiently waiting for its completion, and now that i’ve rediscovered it, i’m so glad i finished it all in one go! i couldn’t imagine the tension of waiting for the next chapter, especially since the tension is so well-crafted!! i hardly noticed the tonal shift even as the story got darker and darker as it led up to the war, and in that way i was reminded of how extremely similar it felt to reading the hp books for the first time! you nailed percy very well i might say, and the awkward-yet-caring relationship he has with his dad. i daresay you gave connor and zoe more characterization than rick riordan himself, and the percabeth you wrote is perfect to the nth degree. i appreciate that you didnt bother with all the love triangle and unrequited feelings nonsense as well.

but i have to say, even as i cried at sally and paul’s wedding, or at dionysus’ quiet mourning for castor, what really struck with me most was the way you handled silena. for that, i have no words. that was a job extremely well done. thank you so much for blessing us with this fic.

from chewbacca (a comment from u!):

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen. Her coat is dripping all over the floor he’d just cleaned (but it’s fine) and when he leans over the counter he sees that her boots match the coat.

First of all!!! Thats the best opening line in the world and nobody can convince me otherwise. I want to become a publisher just so that if you ever write a book, I’d be able to publish it. ( like omg, what an honor??? )

She looks like sunshine, standing there with the amount of yellow in her wardrobe. Briefly, James wonders if that’s her favorite color. It’s got to be.

Im going to quote this whole fic but I really love these lines? Like, you have this distinct style of writiting that I aim to acheive and you’re literally such a rolemodel!!! These are my favorite kind of fics to read. Funny story but I was going through a ‘no thanks Jily’ mood ( a horror, i know !! ) but your fics are just,,,,exceptions? You could write about trash and I’d love it and ask for you to sign me up.

“Say it again, but convincingly this time.”

ooof this dialogue??? let me breathe

This is the longest he’s stood still since he started working. It’s actually a miracle.

and the funniest person award goes to YOU. also, the most talented and cutest but thats neither here nor there.

james taking care of fleamont, switching off the lights gives me just a nice and realistic vibe? its so simple but i love how you added it.

honestly at this point, ive been sucked again by the fanfic. it feels less like a fic and more like a masterpiece that belongs in a museum but anyway.

“James is supposed to be helping.

James is on his phone.”

ugh i love ur mind. im rereading and its so nice and lovely. even if its like 1am and im exhausted, this fic is sustaining me.

“Do it off the clock, would you?”

PEAK HUMOR

have i mentioned how much i love that scene with euphemia? she seems like such a lovely mom. i love ur euphemia the most. and ahh, both of them just rushing to the hospital ? another 100% good scene.

“Euphemia smiles too, but looks at Fleamont rather than at her son. “Yes,” she says. “It really does.””

fic? or shakspeare? HMMM

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen // “Get fucked.”

the fic!! has made a circle!!! i love how it begins and ends along the same lines. I really want to know how??? are you so talented im in love.

i just really love this fic, okay? i love how james is just the kindest, lily is allowed to have feelings, its just so soft and warm. and it makes someone feel loved, want love anyway.

the dynamic between the characters are just so real and great and im astounded, in short.

your sirius is everything. so many fics potray him as a dick??? which is first of all #rude and also, not at all true. you made me love these characters even more so i sincerely hope you never stop writing.

you’re such a beautiful writer and the way you string words together is just poetic and gorgeous and all the other good adjectives you can think of. i read your spiderman x reader too and i was a goner for you. EVERYTHING YOU WRITE IS SO GOOD. i read it so long ago but i can vividly remember peter whipping the mask off and she just going wtf stop on the window ledge. what im trying to say is that you leave this lasting impression on people that make them remember random scenes and words / prose long after they’ve read it which is a remarkable feat, i believe.

and im so sorry im not on tumblr rn bc i cannot keep recing this fic but i have told my friends about your writing and they loved it too. you’ve got like a million fans. when i do get back from my hiatus, im going to keep recing your fics and people will cry because their universe will shift thanks to the newfound joy of your presence in their life.

lastly, im more of a dog person and that, more than anything, should tell you how much i love this fic. i love u. and basee on your writing, i want to hug you, be your best friend and make you cookies bc again

WOW

#thelaziestgeek #answers #friends!#<3

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moonawrites · 6 years

Text

Football, Calculus and Cappuccinos: Ch. 2

At eighteen years old, James Potter is a rising football star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father’s company… and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop. (Jily, AU)

FFN | AO3 | Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Why are you staring at me?

James Potter’s legs are aching.

He always gives his best during training. But lately, Samuel Aguado watches him constantly, so James can’t just do well. He needs to be perfect. Aguado, who was a midfielder at Real Madrid when he retired from play ten years ago, is a Spanish football legend in his own right. But that’s not why his opinion matters to James. Now, Aguado is Chelsea’s manager, and that means James’ future with the team lays primarily in his hands.

And though Wednesday training is always the toughest – every movement from the week of training and matches before weighs down on James’ tired muscles – this particular Wednesday is worse. With the match against Arsenal only three days away, the pressure is that much higher: the better he does now, the better shot he’ll have at playing a significant amount of time on Saturday. James has to work twice as hard to impress Aguado and earn play time.

It’ the second last training day before the match, so they’ve mostly been doing exercises to perfect plays and refine tactics, working on getting more comfortable with Aguado’s new preferred formation. But the morning training session had also included one of James’ most hated training exercises: the beep test. Aguado, of course, had watched.

The beep test involves running twenty meter distances again and again in increasingly short amounts of time, until you miss the time limit, or you simply can’t run anymore – it’s one way Aguado likes to evaluate his squad’s fitness and endurance. It’s effective, and James gets it – but it’s a massive energy suck, and always leaves him exhausted. And this time, he had something to prove.

Everyone knows James is fast. But James knows Aguado has been worried that at eighteen, he doesn’t have the stamina some of the more experienced players have. With a score of 17.5 on the test that morning (impressive even by professional football standards), he has put that worry soundly to bed. In fact, he had been the last one running. At the time, James was too exhausted to care, his legs all but giving out underneath him. But looking back on it, it gives him a thrill. He loves doing better than the first team players at anything, even the damn beep test. Each time he does, he hopes Aguado gets the message: You see? I can play with them. I belong here.

So far, the afternoon session has been excellent, too. James has scored a few goals, including a spectacular goal off a corner kick during a six vs. six exercise that Aguado had loved. Williams had taken the corner and sent the ball right to him, and James had taken control with a header to Jones. He’d moved up in time to receive the ball as Jones volleyed it back, juggling the ball from his left foot to his thigh. Then he’d made a clean shot directly past the goalkeeper’s outstretched arms. Excellent ball control, and a perfectly angled, impossibly fast shot that no one could have stopped: it was a perfect moment.

Since that moment, James has felt an extra hit of adrenaline zipping through his system – whether it’s from the usual thrill of playing good football, or the new thrill of Aguado’s praise and appreciative claps on the back hardly matters. All the extra effort has paid off, but now nearing the end of the day, James is reaching the limits of his stamina. Even after taking a nap before his afternoon training, James’ legs are aching. He feels tired to his bones.

But the day isn’t over yet. After going through several drills, they are closing the session with another mock match, nine vs. nine this time. And Aguado is still watching, so James needs to keep playing, and he needs to be perfect.

James begs his legs for five more minutes of cooperation and zeroes in on the ball as Jordi Price, one of their midfielders, throws it back into play. All at once, James forgets the aches and every other thing around him.

Michael Coleman, Chelsea’s star forward and one of James’ long-time idols, has possession now. He weaves through the midfield with an effortless ease that James can’t help but envy.

James and Coleman are playing on opposite sides in this exercise, which is for the best. Though he is fine playing anywhere in the attacking zone, James is at his best playing left winger – and so, unfortunately, is Coleman. When they play on the same side, James has to play right wing or move back to the midfield. Playing a different position is a little bit tougher, but James is a versatile player and good enough to manage that just fine. It’s Coleman’s personal distaste for him that makes it tricky. James had been disheartened to find that one of his heroes was just a self-absorbed, unprofessional arsehole with a particular dislike for him, but he has come to terms with that fact now. He can’t care about who likes him anymore, he has bigger goals to worry about.

“Potter, Hussain, move up!” Aguado yells from the sidelines. “The transition between attack and defense needs to happen faster.”

James follows his instructions, running up closer to the action. “Stay there, keep to the outside!” Aguado calls, and James slows. He doesn’t take his eye of the ball for a moment, keeping track of every player around him.

Coleman gets through the wall in their midfield and makes a stellar cross (damn it, he’s so fucking good, James can almost forget what a jerk he is) to Miller, who is in a good spot to shoot from.

Miller takes the shot, and it comes off the post. James isn’t surprised – he’s noticed that Miller never gets it in from the right, this close to the goalpost. It’s a fine angle, it’s just not his.

Anderson, a defender on his side, takes possession of the ball as it ricochets off the post and heads it towards Williams, who starts a run back towards the halfway line with it.

James feels a thrum in his veins as he moves up ahead of Williams. He’s aware of where every player is and where they’re moving, as though he’s watching pieces on a chessboard. Responding to their movements, adjusting his own position accordingly – it feels as natural to him as walking.

Williams passes the ball to him.

James weaves through midfielders and defenders, the ball moving with him like an extension of his own feet.

In his periphery, he sees Amar Hussain on his left - an attacking midfielder and their captain. One of his icons who has turned out to be as incredible off the pitch as he is on it.

James doesn’t take his eyes off the goal in front of him. It’s too heavily defended right now for him to risk losing the ball for, but he surges forward as if to shoot… and so quickly it takes the others a moment to spot what he’s done, he’s passed the ball behind him, back to Amar.

As Amar rushes forward in the brief moment of disorientation James has won them, James makes to position himself at the bottom left of the penalty box, his sweet spot for scoring. There’s a clear line from Amar to him, and then from him to the goal. He’d seen the move play out in his head just before he put it motion – it’s perfectly executed so far, it’s a sure thing if Amar completes the final pass just right, and James knows that he will.

It all happens in a split second. Amar kicks the ball at exactly the right moment. The defenders move for it, realizing a second too late that James is going to take the shot, not Amar. Coleman sees it, and he’s closing in on his right, but James is faster.

James gets there first as he knew he would. He’s going to take a perfect shot and watch it sore past their reserve goalkeeper’s head.

The ball is at his feet, he’s surging forward, his blood singing in anticipation – and then Coleman lunges straight at him.

James feels an elbow ram into his ribs with excruciating force – they’re both moving so fast – and he’s on the ground before he even feels the pain, landing awkwardly on his left shoulder. Only after James is down does Coleman touch the ball, kicking it with a force that sends it all the way back across the halfway line.

From the ground, James blinks up at him in shock. Coleman’s expression is vicious and satisfied, though by the sound of the whistle blowing and his teammates shouting around him, everyone else knows what James knows: if this was a real match, that would be a red card. Coleman hadn’t been going for the ball, he had been going for James.

There’s a commotion around him that James can’t keep track of. He wants to cuss the bastard out – it had been a perfect play, a perfect chance that he had created and would have delivered on. It would have been a perfect moment, Aguado would have been so impressed. But no sound escapes him as he sits up slowly, dazed and in pain, his ribs on fire and his shoulder aching.

Aguado and a medic are at his side in an instant, Amar is kneeling down next to him, and Coleman is strolling off the pitch like nothing has happened. James had initially interpreted Coleman’s dislike as aloofness and a general attitude of superiority, an international celebrity who just has no time for an academy player, but now he feels like it’s personal. He had been disappointed to discover someone he looked up to was just a shit person severely lacking in sportsmanship off camera, but now he’s furious.

James wants to leap to his feet and knock Coleman to the ground, repay him for his little stunt with a sound punch to the face. Thankfully, he’s in too much pain to act on an impulse that would be sure to knock him off Saturday’s lineup. Instead, a new panic settles over him: what if he’s really injured? What if he can’t play on Saturday? If this causes an injury that would have him miss the match, he might kill Coleman on the spot. He waits, anger and anxiety coursing through him in turns, as the medic assesses the damage.

“There’s going to be some bruising. Keep some ice on it,” the medic says after a long moment, handing him an ice pack. James nods, holding it in place under his shirt as he sits up. “You’ll need to go in for a massage after training, I’ll leave special instructions for your shoulder with Alina,” he says. Alina is one of the team’s best masseuses. She’s excellent for speeding up recovery.

“I’m okay to play though, right?” James asks anxiously.

“After some rest, yes,” the medic assures him.

James lets out a relieved breath and nods – he can stay calm now. A bruise he can handle. With a bruise, he can bite his tongue and swallow down his anger. “Thank you.”

Chest heaving with exertion form the session, James picks himself up of the ground. He takes the bottle of water Amar passes him and takes a drink, squeezing it with unnecessary force, as though he can take his fury out on the harmless piece of plastic.

“What just happened, Potter?” Aguado demands. James can’t quite hold back the flash of anger on his face as he turns to the manager. Why is he asking him, as though he had done something wrong? But the constant reminders to keep his temper in check are loud in his mind right now.

James is constantly, acutely aware of the position he’s in – a youth team player being given the opportunity to play a match like this, even as a sub, is colossal. He can’t show up to the incredible opportunities the first team manager presents him with and then cuss him and his star player out.

“A bad tackle,” is all he says through gritted teeth, already walking off the pitch. “It’s nothing.”

A foul like this against a teammate in training is despicable behaviour, and Coleman will probably get a warning from Aguado and Amar – but James knows that their star player, such a key member of their squad, will not likely face any real consequences. Not unless James makes it a formal complaint, and he won’t do that. Whatever Coleman’s problem is, James wants no part in it, he doesn’t want the hassle, and he certainly doesn’t want to jeopardize their chances on Saturday.

Amar claps him on his good shoulder. “You did well, Potter. Quick thinking with that back pass.”

James only nods in thanks. It’s true, but in the moment it just feels like consolation, and it makes him feel small. Some of the other players pat him on the back as they walk past. He can feel Aguado’s eyes on him for a moment longer, then sees him walk towards Coleman in his peripheral, calling it a day and sending the rest of the team off the pitch.

Some days, James stays behind for additional one on one technical and physical training. But today, he’s at his end mentally and physically. Even the thought of just walking back to the dressing room and driving home makes him want to drop to the ground right there and sleep. Or cry. He’s so tired.

x.x.x.x.x

As James is leaving the massage room an hour later – feeling much better about mostly everything after the magic that has been worked on his body – he comes face to face with Samuel Aguado waiting outside in a crisp suit. Off the pitch, Aguado always wears a suit. James halts, wondering what this is about, and waits for the manager to speak.

“How do those legs feel?” Aguado asks.

“Better now. Still sore, though,” James admits.

Aguado frowns, and motions for James to walk with him. “I don’t want you overexerting yourself. Go in for an ice bath before you leave today. And take Friday morning to rest – just forty-five minutes at the gym and ninety with the squad in the afternoon.”

James nods, falling into step beside him. “Got it.”

“You did well today. Deliver like that off a corner on Saturday, and I’ll take you out for drinks.”

James grins. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

They’re approaching Aguado’s office now, and James’ heart rate picks up. He wouldn’t talk to James about his place on the team without his agent present, but Aguado’s office means private feedback. It means face time with the first team manager that an academy player can only dream of. It might mean a telling off for what happened with Coleman, but James can’t imagine how anyone could possibly blame that on him.

“I need to see more aggression from you,” Aguado says as they walk. “You’re young and some of these players are your heroes. Forget that. They’re your peers now, and I need that temper.”

“Yes sir,” James says, a little surprised. His temper is verging on notorious, his style usually calculated and sleek and… appropriately aggressive, if required. James has picked up some cards playing with the academy and U-23s. He’s strategic about it though, and knows where to draw the line. Still, usually, he’s being told to keep his temper in check.

Inside his office, Aguado bypasses his desk and motions instead to a seat at a glass table by the window. James takes it, and Aguado sits across from him. The walls are decorated with pictures of Aguado holding every trophy James could ever dream of winning.

“The fact is, you may be an inexperienced kid, but when you play, it’s hard to tell. Don’t get pushed around. You had a scoring opportunity, and you lost it. You didn’t try to get Coleman out of the way and you assumed he’d do the same.” James nods. It’s true – he does sometimes have a hard time playing the same way with his icons as he does with the youth and U-23 teams. “What happened with Coleman today, I don’t want to see a repeat of that ever again.”

James swallows. “Yes sir,” he says again. God, he can hardly speak around him.

“Bring me that temper on Saturday, James. That fire I see when you play with the U-23s. It’s not just about the skill, I know you have that. I need to know you can hold your own against men with a decade of experience on you and who you may have looked up to. I need to see tackles, I need to see you fight back.”

“I’ll come ready to eat them alive,” James says with a nervous laugh. He has been working hard to stay constantly calm, collected – he wants to sigh in relief, hearing that Aguado wants him to respond.

Aguado nods, satisfied. “Come prepared to play, too. You will not be spending ninety minutes on the bench.”

James can’t stop his smile, only barely keeps his ass planted firmly in his seat instead of jumping up in excitement. “You’re saying I’m…?”

“Definitely playing? Yes. How long depends on how the match goes. But I’m giving you an opportunity to show us how you play when the stakes are high.”

James isn’t entirely sure how to respond. All he can manage around his racing heart is, “Wow… thank you, Sir.” Get it together, idiot.

“You’re fast, James, and you have a goal scoring intuition I haven’t seen in a player your age in a very long time. Now I don’t expect that you’ll score in your first match of this caliber – your job on Saturday is to do what you need to do to support the team, be where they need you to be. We have a very experienced squad, they’ve all played hundreds of matches like this. You just need to follow their ques.”

James frowns. “Are you telling me not to try to score?”

“No. I’m telling you not to beat yourself up for it if you don’t. You’re always hard on yourself, and that’s a good thing. But I want you to remember that it’s a different pace of play than academy or U-23 matches, you won’t be the best man on the pitch here.”

Ah. So Aguado is worried about James feeling stressed. Ha! As if a few kind words could alleviate that, even if they are from the one person whose opinion matters most. James is drowning in stress, all but choking on it. “I know that.”

“It’s also a different pace of play than the other matches you’ve played with the first team. It’s not a friendly. It’s not a low-pressure league game against a team we can handle easily – those got you acclimated to playing with this squad. But this is the Champion’s League, it’s the quarter finals, and it’s Arsenal.”

James leans forward excitedly, unable to control the grin on his face, even as Aguado stays perfectly neutral. “It’s the match.”

“Yes. What I’m saying is, a good performance from you in this match may not be the same as the usual good performance from you, and that’s fine. Play for the squad, help them, follow their lead. That’s what I’m looking for.”

James settles back down, commanding himself to calm the hell down. “Right.”

“However – your speed and intuition and technical skill might take them by surprise. They’re not expecting an academy player being tested in a match like this, but they also don’t know just how good you are. We do. You have a knack for creating chances no one else sees, you get through defenders like they’re not there, and when you run up with the ball, no one can keep pace with you. If the opportunity is there –”

“Or if I create it,” James cuts in.

Aguado pauses, the hint of a rare smile on his tanned face. “Yes. Then take it.”

“Sirius tells me you met a girl.”

James glances up from the salad he’s cutting and frowns at his mother. He’d been ready to fall asleep after training, and he’s still standing on aching, exhausted legs. But it’s Wednesday night, so he’s home for dinner at Euphemia’s request. As usual, her dark hair is atop her head in an elegant twist, and when she looks up from her task of putting the food into serving dishes, her warm brown eyes carry a hint of humour and mischief.

“What girl?” he asks casually. He knows what girl. James loves his mother with all his heart, but he knows this conversation is going nowhere good. Euphemia has a vested interest in James’ personal life, and wastes no opportunity to make fun of him. It’s quite rude, as she is his mother and should only ever dote on him and take his side, but Euphemia doesn’t feel that same sense of loyalty.

“The redhead,” she says. Of course, she knows that he knows what girl.

“So? Sirius met her too.”

“Sirius tells me you made a fool of yourself.”

“Why do you listen to what Sirius says?”

Euphemia fixes James with an accusing look. “Because he texts me more than you do. Honestly honey, would it kill you to call?”

“I see you several times a week, mother.”

“Yes well, so does Sirius. He still texts me.”

“Yes well, I am here helping with dinner and Sirius is off in some poor girl’s– ” at Euphemia’s horrified expression (honestly, as if she doesn’t know), James redirects “–well, he’s not here, at any rate.”

“Don’t deflect. I want to know about the redhead.”

James sighs. Euphemia will not be distracted, he knows this from experience. “I hardly know anything about her! I only met her once, briefly.”

“Well what do you know about her?”

“She works at The Rabbit Hole,” James says with a noncommittal shrug.

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Yes mum, she’s a pretty girl that I met one time.” He looks at her pointedly and adds, “Because she made my coffee.”

“Sirius tells me she’s coming to your match on Saturday.”

Sirius needs a talking to. “Is that relevant?”

“Of course it is, darling. Did you invite her?”

James laughs. “No, I told you I just met her! She just happens to be going with her friends.”

“You know, girls love a football player.”

“Not Lily.”

Euphemia points her ladle accusingly at her son. “So you know her name and that she doesn’t like football players?”

James winces. “Yes. I suppose.”

“I didn’t raise a liar.”

“Yes you did. I lie all the time.”

“Like to Lily, about being a football player?”

James puts his knife down and picks up his phone. “I’m disinviting Sirius from dinner, hope you don’t mind.”

“Put that phone down. I need one boy here who tells me the truth.”

“How much do you already know, mother?” Now James points his phone at her accusingly.

“Well… all of it,” she admits, not looking the least bit ashamed of her trickery.

James is affronted. Honestly, this woman is his mother! “And you’ve been acting all innocent. No wonder I turned out to be a pathological liar! You made me this way.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, James.” James mutinously cuts up the rest of the tomatoes. He thinks the conversation is over for a moment, but then, after some silence: “You haven’t had a girlfriend in ages.”

“Oh my God.”

“Why would you lie to a pretty girl the moment you met her?”

“I don’t know, why did you raise a liar?”

“Don’t sass me. I don’t care if you’ve moved out, I’ll still send you to your room.”

“Sorry. Also, I only broke up with Cecilia like two months ago.”

“She doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t like her. Can’t you date a nice girl?”

James rolls his eyes. “No. Nice girls want my time and energy, and I have neither.”

Euphemia frowns at her son. “You have no sense of romance.”

“No. But I have potential, backed up by drive and ambition. Isn’t that better?”

“Drive and ambition won’t give me grandchildren in five years.”

“I’m eighteen!” James balks, staring wide eyed at his mother.

“You’re nineteen in less than two months. Twenty-four is a perfectly decent age to have children.”

“You assume someone will actually want to procreate with him.” This from Sirius, who has let himself in and is strolling casually into the kitchen. James gives the traitor a dirty look as he walks over to Euphemia and kisses her cheek.

“A valid point,” Euphemia sighs, patting Sirius’ cheek. “If only he’d stop lying to every pretty girl he meets.”

James glares at them. Individually, they’re both a lot. But together, they are far too much. “I hate both of you, and I’m never coming to dinner again.”

“If you win on Saturday, I’m inviting Lily to the celebration party,” Sirius says happily, seamlessly picking up on and easing into their conversation. He completely ignores James’ idle threat, already picking at Euphemia’s food.

“You will not.”

“Also, if you lose, I’m inviting her to the pity party. You can cry on her shoulder.”

“I’m removing your name from my Instagram bio.”

“Don’t you dare, James Potter!”

“His name is in your Instagram bio?” his mother asks, swatting Sirius’ hand away from another dish.

“Sirius wants people to know that he’s my best friend, just in case they get too attached to one of my teammates.” He grins rather maliciously at Sirius. “I’m going to remove your name and start tagging Mateo in memes instead. He’s going to be in so many stories.”

“You wouldn’t!” Sirius looks horrified. Mateo Aris is one of James’ academy teammates, the one he would consider his closest friend on the team. Though no one new could ever compare to the friendship he has with Sirius – one that they have been building on since primary school – Sirius is comically jealous of the new addition to James’ life.

“Sometimes, I worry about how codependent you two are,” Euphemia says.

“Do you really?” James snorts. “Or do you actually enjoy Sirius telling you the details of my every interaction?”

“I don’t tell her about all your interactions. Only the PG ones,” Sirius says with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. James groans.

“There are others?” Euphemia demands, turning on Sirius.

“Please. You let two hormonal teenagers get their own flat,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes.

James can’t believe he has to witness this conversation. “Oh my God.”

Thankfully, the doorbell rings then, and James drops the knife onto the granite countertop. He’s already halfway out of the kitchen before either of them can say another word, desperate to get away from this conversation. “That’ll be Remus and Peter,” he says over his shoulder. “My only true friends, besides Mateo.”

“You’re rude,” Sirius calls after him.

James takes his time walking to the door to let his friends in. Remus, in a very Remus fashion, has brought a chocolate cake which he is quite excited to eat, until he remembers that he can’t. (Fucking football. It’s probably not even worth it.)

James is deliberately slow as he makes his way back to the kitchen with them. He asks Remus about the train ride over from Cambridge (“The same as usual?”) and how school is going (“I need a break.”). He asks Peter about his job at Sleakeazy (“Really good!” – this in a high-pitched voice, because he’s lying. James knows he hates it, but is too polite to say so because it’s his father’s company and James had gotten him the job.). All this in hopes that Sirius and his mother will have moved on to a new conversation when he returns.

As soon as James returns to the kitchen with Remus and Peter, Euphemia says, “Hello, boys. Remus dear, are James and Sirius having sex at their flat?”

Remus very nearly drops the cake, but he manages to steady himself in time and places it on the counter. He glances between his friends (James: mortified, exasperated. Sirius: amused, as always.), then stares at Euphemia, who waits expectantly. He looks rather uncomfortable, unsure of what he’s walked into. “I don’t… um. You mean like, with… with each other?”

James can see how Remus may have misinterpreted his mother’s wording. He can see that the abrupt and inappropriate question has made Remus flustered, it’s all very understandable - but he still yells at the mental image and covers his face with his hands.

Euphemia sighs and ignores James’ dramatics. “Sex of any kind.”

“Uh, well… if I had to venture a guess…”

“You don’t,” James assures him.

“I would guess yes, they are. Not with each other, though.” A pause. “That I know of.”

Damn him, Remus is a traitor too. Peter, who has just stood quiet and wide eyed the entire time, is evidently his only trustworthy friend.

“Absolutely not with each other,” James confirms.

“Why do you looks so bothered?” Sirius demands. “You should be so lucky!”

“I honestly don’t know what this conversation is or how we got here. Please end it now, I want to eat dinner and then never see any of you again.”

x.x.x.x.x

Thankfully, as the boys help set the table and then sit down to eat, the conversation shifts away from what James does in his bedroom to talk of the upcoming match. This turns out to be only slightly more bearable – James is already so nervous, if he hadn’t exhausted himself in training that afternoon, he wouldn’t be able to stomach any food. As it is, he needs to refuel enough that he piles an obscene amount of food onto his plate.

“Aguado told me to show up expecting to play,” James is telling them now. He’d skipped over the incident with Coleman, which he’d all but forgotten about after leaving Aguado’s office. (It would only worry his mother and get Sirius worked up. The last thing anybody needs is one of Sirius’ Twitter rants.) Despite the nerves, James can barely contain his excitement.

“Aren’t you a sub for this match?” Remus asks.

James nods. “But he’s guaranteeing me some play time. I think I’ve done well enough for him to trust that I’ll at the very least not screw them up, and he wants to test me under high stakes.”

“That’s huge, James! This the best. Now Lily is definitely going to see you play,” Sirius says, a wide grin taking over his face. James rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling. Sirius looks almost more excited than he feels.

“I’m proud of you, honey,” his mother says, that warm smile lighting up her face. James’ heart swells. Maybe it makes him a mama’s boy, he doesn’t care – he lives to make Euphemia proud. Her smile falters a little, a question appearing in here eyes. James knows where it’s going, and wants her to stop, but he doesn’t speak soon enough and she asks it. “Have you told your father yet?”

A dense sort of silence falls over the table as his friends all stop eating. James determinedly keeps cutting his chicken, if a little aggressively. “You know I haven’t.”

Of course he hasn’t. And why should he have? Fleamont Potter is not interested in his son’s achievements, not if they involve football.

“You should invite him,” his mother urges.

“Why? He won’t come.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.” Now James stops eating too, glaring at his mother. Why did she have to ruin a perfectly good evening with this?

“You should invite him anyways. You haven’t even spoken to him since Christmas, James. He’s your father.”

“Exactly. Saturday is the biggest chance I’ve ever been given, I can’t think about anything else. Least of all the father I haven’t seen in over a month and why he didn’t come or, on the off chance that he does, the fact that he’s watching me. I don’t want him there, mum.”

Euphemia sighs, and gives a tired nod. “Alright, honey. It’s your decision. I just wish you two would try to fix things.”

The Potters have always been a tight knit family, and James has always been close to both of his parents. Being their only child, born late enough in life to have been a happy shock, they have always doted on him. James has never wanted for his parents’ love and support, has never wanted something they didn’t give him. Until a year ago, when James had definitively made the decision to pursue football and give up a future at his father’s company, they had both supported his every dream.

Now, he can count the number of conversations he’s had with his father in the past year on one hand, and none have been particularly pleasant. It’s a sore spot for him, but seeing how upset Euphemia is now reminds him of how hard the rift has been on her, too. Her husband and her son not speaking has thoroughly upended her blissful life, and he knows she misses the three of them and Sirius spending proper time together.

James sighs heavily. Only for her. “Alright I… I’ll think about it, mum.”

Euphemia smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

In her two weeks of working at The Rabbit Hole, Lily Evans has not had to deal with a lineup alone. Customers come and go throughout the day, but rarely are there more at once than she can manage. Her first Friday and Saturday evening shifts had been busy as people tried to find a bar (any bar), but that was an anticipated crowd and she’d had help. Unfortunately, today there seems to be some sort of event going on nearby, and the trickle of crowd leaving has resulted in a larger than usual lineup on what should have been a quiet Thursday morning. Lily is overwhelmed.

Almost two weeks into the job, she has figured out the cash register and knows how to use all the equipment and appliances. She (technically) knows how to make all the drinks (poorly), too. But she is still new enough that things take her a little bit longer than the other employees. Time that self-important Londoners pretend they don’t have, as an excuse to be rude.

So far this morning, Lily has been yelled at on three separate occasions, and has barely stopped herself from spitting in their drinks. And if one more person snaps at her for being too slow or too clumsy or not good enough at making some stupid drink, she’s afraid she’ll lose her cool and cuss them out – or worse, start crying. She had come in to work already tired from a long night of schoolwork, anticipating a quiet shift. Now, she can hardly contain her scowl as she hears the door open again, signalling another addition to the too long lineup.

“What is the matter with you, have you never made a smoothie before?” The current jerk in front of her snaps as she fumbles with the blender. He’s a forty-something year old man with mean little eyes (as most of the rude customers are), wearing a pristine suit and too much gel in his hair. Lily’s shoulders stiffen, but she tries to force a smile. She’s still new and she needs this job, she reminds herself. She can’t yell at customers.

“Sorry, it’ll just be a minute,” she says through gritted teeth. Hair Gel huffs an annoyed sigh and screws up his brutish face, making a point of showing his irritation.

It’s barely been another twenty seconds when he quite loudly says, “Hurry the hell up! God, who hired you?” Lily stops what she’s doing and looks up at him – this may just be the worst customer to come in today. The customers nearby shift uncomfortably, their eyes anywhere but on her.

“Excuse me?” Lily says, stunned at his behaviour.

“I said, who hired you? I have someplace to be,” he snaps, doubling down on his rudeness. That’s about as much as Lily can take. She imagines dumping the smoothie on his greasy hair. Her fingers twitch towards the plastic cup, but she stops herself, deciding a few choice words will have to do – but she doesn’t get the chance to speak.

“Shouldn’t have stopped for a smoothie if you were in such a hurry, then,” a curt voice says from near the back of the line. Lily’s eyes snap towards James at the same time as Hair Gel’s. He’s alone today, dressed in dark jeans and a blue hoodie under his coat. His hair is still messy in that careless, charming way that she’d admired last week, but it’s damp today. Lily notes the bag slung over his shoulder and concludes that he must have come from the gym. God, did he have to be attractive and nice and a healthy, productive human being?

The truth is, she would have been grateful for anyone who stood up for her in that moment, but it’s the fact that it’s James that brings the smile to her face. She’s relieved to see a familiar and friendly face, and she’s elated that it’s his in particular. Lily would be hard pressed to admit it to anyone, but James’ face has scarcely left her mind since she met him last Thursday.

“Mind your own business,” Hair Gel yells back, and Lily remembers where she is.

“Mind your manners first, you dick.” Hair Gel looks positively scandalized by the language, sputtering angrily, but James only steps out of line and stalks towards him. “Can’t you see she’s working alone?”

“That’s not my problem,” Hair Gel says, his face red.

“And where you need to be isn’t her problem, but you still felt it necessary to make it known that you’re too busy to be a decent human being.”

Hair Gel looks like his head might blow right off his shoulders in an explosion of steam. He looks completely beside himself – evidently, he has never been spoken to like this by a young person before. “This is unacceptable! I want to speak to the manager.”

“She’s in Prague. What are you gonna do, tell on me?” James challenges. Hair Gel just looks completely stunned, now (finally) at a loss for words. Behind him, Lily puts the lid on his finished drink. “Your smoothie’s done, you berk. I thought you had someplace to be?”

Hair Gel whips around to face Lily, who pushes the now finished drink towards him, not bothering to suppress her amused grin. He grabs the drink with unnecessary force, the contents squeezing out of the straw hole at the top, then turns back around to stare furiously at James. James only raises his eyebrows. “Well? Get on with it, you’re holding up the line. These people have someplace to be.” That earns him a few appreciative chuckles from the customers in line.

Looking affronted and muttering furiously about disrespectful youths, and obviously trying to convey with his aggressive walk just how angry and disrespected he feels, Hair Gel finally storms out the door. Lily lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“No problem. That just really riled me up, I feel like I could literally eat someone alive right now.” James drops his bag to the floor as Lily laughs, and shrugs out of his coat. He settles onto one of the stools at the bar, and in a move that Lily finds unbearably adorable, he swivels to face the remaining customers.

x.x.x.x.x

James sits at the bar, scrolling through his phone while Lily works through the lineup. He’s here alone this morning – Sirius has schoolwork to catch up on, and knowing their weekend will be occupied by James’ match and the aftermath that follows, he’ll likely be spending the rest of his day cooped up at the flat. Though he appreciates the lack of ranting about the trek over, James rather misses Sirius’ company during their Thursday Ritual, and has promised to bring back coffee and donuts.

The rest of the line moves faster, and without incident – possibly because, though he doesn’t bother Lily while she works, James does look up to glare at anyone who starts to get testy with her. Given her swift retribution for Sirius’ behaviour, he’s sure she can handle herself. But today she seems a little overwhelmed, and he doesn’t have to worry about a job if he snaps at someone. Besides, he’s not entirely pleased that these people have interrupted what he expected to be a quiet Thursday morning.

It’s about twenty minutes later when the lineup finally ends, and James finally orders his cappuccino and a double chocolate donut – a rare treat that he feels he deserves, seeing as he’s already worked out today and it’s Thursday morning.

“Genevieve seriously needs to hire more people,” Lily sighs, leaning against the counter once she slides his drink across to him.

“You can be rude back to them, you know. She won’t care. She’ll probably even encourage it.” He takes a sip of the drink. It’s better than last week’s sad attempt. Next week it might even be good, and that’s something to look forward to.

“I just started. I think I need to work here a while longer before I can start cussing out customers. Establish myself as good and sane before the outbursts of rage, you know?”

James chuckles. “Solid strategy. I guess I’ll just have to do it for you in the meantime.”

Lily smiles at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to dump the smoothie on his head.”

“You were not. Establish your sanity before outbursts of rage? You said that literally three seconds ago.”

“Well, I thought it. And I deliberately put in twice as much kale as I should have, and some broccoli when he wasn’t looking. I bet it tastes like shit,” Lily admits proudly, which earns her a surprised, appreciative laugh from James.

“So besides that, how do you like working here?”

“It’s nice. Free coffee and pastries is never a bad thing. And usually it’s relatively quiet, so I actually get some studying done in between customers. As far as shitty part-time jobs go, it’s pretty ideal.”

“What are you studying?” James asks with genuine interest.

“Bioengineering at Imperial.”

James raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Wow. So you’re like… really smart, then.” It’s almost unfair, really, for someone to be so pretty and smart. There should be a rule against it. It’s a good thing for him, though, because a crush doesn’t matter if someone is out of your league.

Lily grins and shrugs modestly. She’s nonchalant, but James knows Imperial is the best uni there is for engineering. He’s not trying to flatter her, he already knows she has to be incredibly smart to be studying there. “I like to think I am, but we’ll see at the end of term,” she says. “What about you?”

“Me? No, I’m not that smart,” he jokes.

Lily laughs. “I mean, are you a student too?”

“Oh, no. I took the year to figure out what I want to do.” It’s sort of true. He had given himself the year to see if he could really do the football thing. And it had been a pretty good year, all things considered.

“And did you?”

“Yes, I think so.” Lily waits expectantly for him to continue. Of course the natural expectation is that he’ll tell her what he’s decided, and it’s a good time to casually mention he’s decided to be a professional football player. But then she’ll remember all the nonsense he said last week, and realize he’s an idiot, and ask him to never speak to her again, please and thank you. She’s going to be an engineer, she’s far too smart to put up with a fool like him. And James rather likes talking to her. If she’ll never speak to him again after Saturday anyways, why not just enjoy talking to her today?

When he doesn’t continue, Lily takes the hint and drops it. “Well, good for you. It’s smart to take your time figuring things out.”

“I know! That’s what I tell everyone. Like what if I gave into the pressure and decided to just study accounting or something, and then a year later I’m miserable and out £9,000 and have to start over?”

“Excellent point. You don’t strike me as the accounting type.”

“Okay. Sirius and I always order in from this one Chinese place because they have the best dumplings in London and we’re too lazy to walk fifteen minutes to get there, right?”

Lily smiles in amusement, obviously not sure where James is going with the sudden change of topic but nodding along anyways. “Right, of course. Go on.”

“And the delivery guy, his name is Ben and his dad owns the place, so he has to work there on the weekends. He always takes forever. It takes him like forty minutes even when Rick, the guy on the phone, says it’ll be no more than thirty. Even though, as I said, the place is fifteen minutes away!”

“Fucking Ben,” Lily sighs sympathetically.

“What is he even doing, right? How could it possibly take that long? It’s like four minutes away on a bike! Ben has a fucking bike, Lily.”

“He has a bike and it takes him forty minutes to make a four-minute ride? Get it together, Ben!” James smiles at Lily’s mock exasperation.

“One time I ordered before I got home, because you know, I was just that hungry. And I’m driving up the street, and I see Ben standing by his bike two blocks from our flat, smoking weed.”

“No! On the job?” Lily slaps the bar. “Come on, Ben!”

“I know! So now we know that Ben takes forever because he stops to smoke weed on the way. Worst delivery guy ever, right?”

“Among the worst, definitely.”

“And do you know what, Lily?”

Lily grins, sensing that he’s coming to the end of his story now. “What?”

“I still tip him generously, because saying ‘keep the change!’ is easier than having to count it. So yeah, you’re right. I could never be an accountant.”

Lily stares at him for a moment, as if to determine how serious he is (completely). And then she bursts out laughing.

x.x.x.x.x

James is good company. The way he talks to Lily – as though they’re good friends – makes her forget that she actually only met him last week.

They go from talking about his aversion to counting change (“I mean I guess I could if it really came down to it, but the effort!”) to arguing about the real best Chinese food in London (Lily maintains it’s the cleverly named “Chinese Food” near her flat and James is prepared to die – his actual words – defending Ben’s father’s place, Lee’s Garden), to discussing their favourite Kingdom of Ashes movie (“The third one,” James insists. “It’s when they really lean into just how bad they are, and sort of embrace it, you know?”).

Lily had mentioned that she watched the adaptations of Genevieve Wallace’s books for the first time on the weekend, after James had mentioned he loves them. As soon as she’d said it, Lily wished she could take it back – how weird is it to tell a guy you just met that you wasted hours watching four movies just because he mentioned liking them? But James had grinned enthusiastically, and now here they are, discussing the morality of a fictional war between dwarves and giants.

“The dwarves had no right to march into foreign lands like that,” he’s saying now, his face animated. He leans forward and talks with his hands when he’s excited, like right now.

“They were taking back what was rightfully theirs!”

“Um, no!” James is evidently very passionate about these books. “They lost it in battle. They made that law themselves and used it to their advantage on several occasions. They can’t just change it when they lose. They uprooted innocent people!”

“Yes, but their lands were sacred, it’s different than the ones they took over. Their ties to the land are stronger.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re on the dwarves’ side in this,” he sighs, dismayed. “I guess all people have their flaws after all.”

Lily’s lips twitch. The hidden compliment in there does not escape her notice, and it makes her stomach flutter a little. “I feel like maybe you take these books a little too seriously.”

“I feel like maybe you don’t take them seriously enough, Lily.”

Lily laughs again. She’s laughed a lot this morning. “You sit here and think about what a nerd you are, I’m gonna go make another round.”

“I am not a nerd. I’m very cool, as you already know.”

Lily pats his arm as she walks out from behind the bar and towards one of the customers sitting at a nearby table. There’s a few lounging about with their coffees, laptops out or reading books off the shelves. Lily smiles as she offers them refills and asks if there’s anything else she can get them – it’s easy to be friendly now, her mood significantly lifted since the morning.

She glances up at James, sipping on a smoothie, as she writes another order down. He’s probably the main reason for her cheery mood, and as silly as she feels, she knows that when he gets up to go, the rest of her shift is going to feel longer and duller than if he’d never come in at all. She’s in the process of reminding herself of how busy she is – she hardly has time to sleep in between school and work, and she wants to start doing some proper research as soon as possible, which means she needs to impress her professors and can’t get distracted by charming boys with messy hair – when he glances up from his phone and catches her looking. It’s too late for her to look away, but once again, he alleviates the awkwardness by giving her an easy smile and turning back to his phone. He has such a nice smile. Lily holds back a sigh and starts over. No time for charming boys with messy hair and really nice smiles.

But when she gets back behind the counter to serve another customer who has just walked in, it’s not very long at all before she realizes all her efforts are for nothing.

“Have a nice day!” she says with exaggerated cheer as she hands the customer his coffee. He calls a hurried “You too!” over his shoulder and leaves the shop as Lily walks back towards James, the artificial smile shifting to a real one.

James looks thoughtful. “I’m guessing like, middle management, tech related job at a midrange company, has two kids. One of them is probably named George.”

“How do you figure that?” They’ve been playing this game all morning, taking turns putting stories to the customers. James has even gone over to some of the ones who’ve stayed in to confirm their suspicions – and been startlingly accurate about a couple of them. (She doesn’t know anybody else with the nerve to ask an elderly man if he’d had a secret love affair with a married woman in Paris during his youth. She doesn’t know anybody else who could respond with a casual “Well that’s too bad, Frank. You’ve still got time,” when the elderly man had been appropriately shocked at the false accusation.)

“He’s a thirty-something with bags under his eyes who ordered an extra-large coffee and no food at noon,” James explains about their current subject. “Young and tired and evidently busy enough to be fighting for something, probably a promotion. Too drained to not have kids. He was wearing fitted clothes, a plaid shirt and a skinny tie. Average style. But his shoes and belt don’t match, so he’s faking it to fit in. Which makes me think it’s a growing company in a field interesting to younger people. As for George… I dunno, that’s just a hunch.”

Lily shakes her head, looking up from her phone. “Unbelievable. I just googled the name of the company on his ID card, it’s a growing, midrange online hosting company.”

James lets out a triumphant whoop, and grins at her. “I told you I’m an excellent judge of character. I’m winning by like five points now, by the way.”

“You’re an excellent judge of people’s outward appearance, not character. Also, you’re keeping track?”

“Of course I am! I don’t play games to lose.” James glances at the time on his phone. “I should head out and let you get back to your job now. It’s lunchtime, you’ll probably be busy soon.”

Lily nods, hoping her disappointment isn’t too obvious. His phone dings and James smiles slightly as he reads the text, picking it up to reply – it’s probably one of his seven gorgeous girlfriends or something – and Lily can’t look away. He’s so nice, and so nice to look at. He’s so unlike anybody she’s ever met. His hair has dried now, and though she’d spotted him trying to flatten it a couple of times, it’s still chaotic. It suits him, she thinks.

x.x.x.x.x

When James looks up from replying to Sirius’ text (complaining about homework, as usual), Lily is watching him, her eyes travelling up his face and to his hair. They stay there for a long while. James shifts nervously under her scrutiny, suddenly aware of what a mess his hair must be after his shower at the gym. He pushes his glasses up his nose and she follows the movement with her eyes. God, she’s so fit, and she was so cool and calm while he’d rambled on for ages (about dwarves! And fucking Ben! God, he’s an idiot.), and she’s not at all shy about checking him out, and that just makes her even more attractive. He’s so distracted by her looking at him, he’s forgotten what they were talking about.

“What?” He finally asks, the nerves taking over.

Lily blinks at him, as though he’d just pulled her out of a deep thought. “What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Did you come here from the gym?” she asks, then clamps her mouth shut, her cheeks turning pink. She takes a step back from the bar.

James’ lips twitch. So perhaps she’s a little bit nervous, too. What an exciting thought. “Er, yes?”

“Only because… well, your hair was damp and um, you had the bag so…” she trails off, the pink of her cheeks deepening. Lily quickly turns around and starts rearranging the teas, just like she’d done last week.

“You’re very perceptive.”

“You’re very… healthy.”

James’ can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Thank you.”

Lily groans. “Oh my God. What am I rambling about? You’re a customer.” She turns back around to face him, still red. “I’m sorry. It’s not my business where you came from or how healthy you are.”

James thinks they’re probably friends now, after spending an hour chatting about dwarves and extramarital affairs. But maybe she’s just polite? He gives her a playful smile anyways. “Do you comment on all of your customers’ health? Or are you just trying to flirt with me?”

“Oh my God.” She covers her face with her hands. Her nails are painted a vibrant yellow.

“It’s very nice of you to notice. I do work hard on my health, you know,” he continues. Lily groans, but drops her hands, a smile tugging at her lips now.

“Any chance you’ll let this go soon?”

“Can you also comment on how muscular and fit I am?”

“I can’t tell through the hoodie. I’ll just imagine you’re hiding your flab under there.”

James raises an eyebrow. “You’re imagining me under my hoodie?”

“Well I am now!” Lily huffs, throwing him a glare. If she had been starting to calm down, it’s all gone now, her face is burning.

James laughs, a happy sound. “What do I look like?”

“Not flabby,” she says crossly.

“I can confirm your suspicions, if you want,” James says, his smile suggestive. Lily’s eyes widen just slightly, and James realizes what he’s saying. Has he just offered to strip for her? Or… something else? Now she’ll think he’s a liar and a fool and a pervert. She could report him for harassment, and he would deserve it. She could have him arrested, and it would probably be for the best and they would all be better off.

James swallows, and starts pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s cold outside, but it suddenly feels very hot inside. She follows the movement with her eyes, and he freezes halfway. He’s getting ready to apologize, but then she licks her lips, and he can’t take his eyes off them now. He wants to kiss her. The thought is sudden, but once it’s there, it’s loud and persistent. He wants to kiss her so bad.

Suddenly, the door opens behind them. Lily jumps back from the bar, startled, at the same time that James jumps at the sound and almost falls off the stool. He grips the edge of the bar to steady himself, and Lily clears her throat. “I should get back to work,” she says quickly, moving towards the register as the customer walks in.

“Right. Of course.” James gets up and picks his coat and gym bag up off the floor. God, he’s such an idiot. “I’m so sorry. That was… I didn’t mean to… that was inappropriate.” He’s rambling again. He’s trying to avoid looking at her again. (Just in case he jumps over the bar to kiss her. He wouldn’t put it past himself, that would be quite on brand for him.)

“James?” He looks up. Is that the first time she’s said his name? The sound of it on her lips makes his heart stutter. Lily’s face is flushed. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

He smiles at her, forcing a calm he doesn’t feel, and nods. “See you, Lily.”

Heart thundering in his ears, blood thrumming through his veins, James turns around and gets the hell out of there, feeling like he’s just played a full ninety minutes.

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