identifying the problem ; a james/lily drabble.
Identifying the Problem
RATING: PG-13.
PAIRING: James/Lily.
WARNINGS: The slightest allusion to sex but only if you squint, some under-age drinking.
SUMMARY: Lily thinks there might be a problem but she can't quite put her finger on it.
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter series and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them.
Lily wonders if this is going to become a problem, and then she realises that there are so many changes that have happened in her life in the past few months that she can't tell what this could mean. Perhaps her new habit of waking up in a bed that wasn't hers, or maybe her weakness of being too easily persuaded, or maybe her desire to curl up in a corner and hide from the world, only consolable by one James Potter--it might be the last one, she considers, as she usually has a burning desire to burden someone else with all of her problems in a loud voice edged with steely fury.
-----
She can't quite get used to the taste of Firewhisky so she says she hates it and doesn't want to participate in a drinking game. Even Muggle liquor makes her cringe, the stuff that her friends from home sneak into sleepovers--cans of beer and drinks that she thinks her parents once mentioned for parties but her mum doesn't drink anymore. No one drinks in the house anymore with the memory of Mr. Evans hanging over their heads, but Lily does. She convinces her friend Maggie to buy scotch, her father's favourite drink, and she drinks it from the bottle in his honour, hating the way it burns all the way down her throat but relishing it later on. Firewhisky burns in a different way, and she doesn't know if it's because it belongs in the magical world that makes it so alien.
Sirius pleads and begs for her to join them because it'll be fun to watch the inscrutable Lily Evans intoxicated. She counters that she's been drunk before, not that any of them would know, so she's not as much of a stick in the mud as they'd imagine. (James says nothing but only grins, that damned mischievious twinkle in his eye.) She holds out, watching as the four boys move toward tipsy, move beyond it, and when they're almost drunk, she finally gives in because if they're going to make lewd remarks about how she's sitting across James' lap, how his arm is clutched around her waist, she's going to need some liquid courage to retort back at them in their state.
She retreats to the Head Girl dormitory later and barely has the motivation to change into pyjamas, sitting in her underwear on her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. She gets so caught up in the past sometimes that it becomes overwhelming, consuming her ability to function. Her father dances through her thoughts like a ghost that will never leave her alone. Flashes of her childhood pop up and she buries her face in her hands before smacking her forehead against her knees. The tears threaten to spill over but they won't--she's cried so much for her dad but he'd want her to go on living.
There's a tapping at her window and it takes too much effort to lift her head, all her willpower to open the latch to the late November air. James is on his broom, a heavy cloak over his nightclothes, hovering hundreds of feet in the air and Lily stares wide-eyed.
"I'm here to rescue the damsel in distress from her tower," he says seriously, holding a hand out to her.
She balks, swallowing hard and shivering from the cold and her fear of flying. "I may be in distress, but the sort of rescuing I'd prefer doesn't involve flying." She bites back the impulse to say she doesn't need to be rescued because though it may be true at any other time, tonight she needed someone holding her. "James, you know I hate flying. Are you even allowed to fly a broomstick whilst intoxicated?"
He edges closer, his fingers brushing her outstretched hand. "I'm hardly drunk now. I can't get up the girls' staircase and your only other option is to go up to my room on foot and you know that Sirius will never let you live that one down." She grimaces at the idea, knowing that James spoke the truth. "It's this or being left alone and I'll burn myself alive before I let the latter happen."
She takes his hand and climbs out her window, letting a small shriek escape her lips as she tightens her hands around his waist. The trip is brief but the height is dizzying and when she scrambles into James' room, she nearly collapses to the ground in her desire to plant her feet on something solid. He follows her in, locking the latch and placing his broomstick down and she doesn't have much time to react before he lifts her from the floor and unceremoniously tosses her onto his bed. There's a moment where she wants to complain but all words are lost as she meets his eye.
They've only been dating for hardly a month but she sees so many emotions and bitten-back declarations of love in his actions, in the way he looks at her now, that she can't find words. She has so much trouble trusting that it's difficult for her to say how she feels, but she lifts a hand to him and he takes it, falling into bed next to her before turning to face her. "You don't have to sleep alone anymore, you know." Even in the barely lit room, she can see the blush colouring his cheeks and she knows it's not the alcohol. "You can come up here whenever you'd like."
She is quiet for a few moments, chewing her lip in thought before she smiles, clumsily pressing her lips to his. "You'll have to make some room in all this mess for some of my things, then."
-----
Lily only returns to her room when her friends need a place to stay and talk or when James is at Quidditch practice. She hardly sleeps in her own bed except for the occasions where he flies to her room and spends the night, only to leave as early in the morning as he can to avoid suspicion, and when she watches him go, it's like she loses a piece of her with him. It's only when she spends sleepless nights curled next to him, whispering conversations and sometimes not talking at all, does she realise that this isn't the problem--if it is, she doesn't want to fix it.
RATING: PG-13.
PAIRING: James/Lily.
WARNINGS: The slightest allusion to sex but only if you squint, some under-age drinking.
SUMMARY: Lily thinks there might be a problem but she can't quite put her finger on it.
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter series and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them.
Lily wonders if this is going to become a problem, and then she realises that there are so many changes that have happened in her life in the past few months that she can't tell what this could mean. Perhaps her new habit of waking up in a bed that wasn't hers, or maybe her weakness of being too easily persuaded, or maybe her desire to curl up in a corner and hide from the world, only consolable by one James Potter--it might be the last one, she considers, as she usually has a burning desire to burden someone else with all of her problems in a loud voice edged with steely fury.
-----
She can't quite get used to the taste of Firewhisky so she says she hates it and doesn't want to participate in a drinking game. Even Muggle liquor makes her cringe, the stuff that her friends from home sneak into sleepovers--cans of beer and drinks that she thinks her parents once mentioned for parties but her mum doesn't drink anymore. No one drinks in the house anymore with the memory of Mr. Evans hanging over their heads, but Lily does. She convinces her friend Maggie to buy scotch, her father's favourite drink, and she drinks it from the bottle in his honour, hating the way it burns all the way down her throat but relishing it later on. Firewhisky burns in a different way, and she doesn't know if it's because it belongs in the magical world that makes it so alien.
Sirius pleads and begs for her to join them because it'll be fun to watch the inscrutable Lily Evans intoxicated. She counters that she's been drunk before, not that any of them would know, so she's not as much of a stick in the mud as they'd imagine. (James says nothing but only grins, that damned mischievious twinkle in his eye.) She holds out, watching as the four boys move toward tipsy, move beyond it, and when they're almost drunk, she finally gives in because if they're going to make lewd remarks about how she's sitting across James' lap, how his arm is clutched around her waist, she's going to need some liquid courage to retort back at them in their state.
She retreats to the Head Girl dormitory later and barely has the motivation to change into pyjamas, sitting in her underwear on her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. She gets so caught up in the past sometimes that it becomes overwhelming, consuming her ability to function. Her father dances through her thoughts like a ghost that will never leave her alone. Flashes of her childhood pop up and she buries her face in her hands before smacking her forehead against her knees. The tears threaten to spill over but they won't--she's cried so much for her dad but he'd want her to go on living.
There's a tapping at her window and it takes too much effort to lift her head, all her willpower to open the latch to the late November air. James is on his broom, a heavy cloak over his nightclothes, hovering hundreds of feet in the air and Lily stares wide-eyed.
"I'm here to rescue the damsel in distress from her tower," he says seriously, holding a hand out to her.
She balks, swallowing hard and shivering from the cold and her fear of flying. "I may be in distress, but the sort of rescuing I'd prefer doesn't involve flying." She bites back the impulse to say she doesn't need to be rescued because though it may be true at any other time, tonight she needed someone holding her. "James, you know I hate flying. Are you even allowed to fly a broomstick whilst intoxicated?"
He edges closer, his fingers brushing her outstretched hand. "I'm hardly drunk now. I can't get up the girls' staircase and your only other option is to go up to my room on foot and you know that Sirius will never let you live that one down." She grimaces at the idea, knowing that James spoke the truth. "It's this or being left alone and I'll burn myself alive before I let the latter happen."
She takes his hand and climbs out her window, letting a small shriek escape her lips as she tightens her hands around his waist. The trip is brief but the height is dizzying and when she scrambles into James' room, she nearly collapses to the ground in her desire to plant her feet on something solid. He follows her in, locking the latch and placing his broomstick down and she doesn't have much time to react before he lifts her from the floor and unceremoniously tosses her onto his bed. There's a moment where she wants to complain but all words are lost as she meets his eye.
They've only been dating for hardly a month but she sees so many emotions and bitten-back declarations of love in his actions, in the way he looks at her now, that she can't find words. She has so much trouble trusting that it's difficult for her to say how she feels, but she lifts a hand to him and he takes it, falling into bed next to her before turning to face her. "You don't have to sleep alone anymore, you know." Even in the barely lit room, she can see the blush colouring his cheeks and she knows it's not the alcohol. "You can come up here whenever you'd like."
She is quiet for a few moments, chewing her lip in thought before she smiles, clumsily pressing her lips to his. "You'll have to make some room in all this mess for some of my things, then."
-----
Lily only returns to her room when her friends need a place to stay and talk or when James is at Quidditch practice. She hardly sleeps in her own bed except for the occasions where he flies to her room and spends the night, only to leave as early in the morning as he can to avoid suspicion, and when she watches him go, it's like she loses a piece of her with him. It's only when she spends sleepless nights curled next to him, whispering conversations and sometimes not talking at all, does she realise that this isn't the problem--if it is, she doesn't want to fix it.