I am always taking prompts/suggestions. So feel free to send me anything you like.
Separately, they didn’t stand a chance.
Well, that’s the magic of James and Lily.
Together, they could do anything.
“You might not believe this, McKinnon – But my whole life does not revolve around Lily Evans.” He said with a frustrated sigh. Marlene McKinnon had spent the last 25 minutes pestering him about why he had ‘given up’ on Lily. Training had finished half an hour ago, and the rest of the team left soon after. James had been packing the equipment up, when the blonde appeared beside him.
She thought for a moment, twirling a strand of her hair around a finger as she said, “Nope, you’re right. I don’t believe it.” She said with a satisfied smirk.
He rolled his eyes, placing his unlit cigarette between his lips as reached down to tie up his laces. Marlene watched him with a curved eyebrow, chewing her gum loudly. She was beginning to get on his nerves. He could feel her eyes burning into him, and he dropped his foot to the ground loudly, tucking his cigarette behind his ear as he turned to face her,
“Can I help you with something else, McKinnon?”
She shook her head, “Just trying to see what Lily sees in you.”
“Well can you do it somewhere els- Wait, what?”
“Don’t see it, myself. You’re fit I guess, but bloody hell you’re a dozy muppet sometimes.”
“Shut up for a second and go back to what you said before.”
“Which is it?” she asked, the trademark Marlene McKinnon smirk firmly planted on her lips, “Do you want me to shut up or do you want me to tell you about Lily?”
“I thought your whole life doesn’t revolve around her?”
“McKinnon, I swear to Merlin’s sweaty underpants, if you don’t tell me what you know I’m going to bench you for the Slytherin game.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but she knew he wasn’t kidding. James Potter didn’t kid when it came to Lily Evans. Besides; the look on his face was almost too pathetic to mess with him. She scowled, pulling at the ribbon that was holding her hair into her ponytail. “You’re a daft git, you know that, right?” She asked as her hair cascaded over her shoulder.
“Explain.” He demanded,
“She – Lily Evans – fancies you – James Potter. Savvy?” She explained slowly, in the most patronising voice she could muster. She smirked as his eyes widened on their own accord, as his hands dropped limply by his side, and his eyes became unfocused. She pulled jacket on, and picked up her bag and hung it over her shoulder,
“Nope. Bullshit.” He muttered, as he shook his head. His hand running through his hair as he frowned, Marlene rolled her eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, McKinnon.” He said a moment later, eyeing her suspiciously as he brought his cigarette to his lips again, lighting it this time.
“Like I said, I don’t see it. She’s clearly a nutter.” She began to smirk again, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she headed up toward the castle. As she moved away from him, she turned her head over her shoulder and called back to him, “By the way, Lily hates cigarettes. But I guess that doesn’t bother you, because your life doesn’t revolve around Lily Evans, right?”
“Right.” He said weakly, as he watched the blonde stride triumphantly away from him.
When she was out of sight, he looked down at the lit fag between his fingertips. It dropped to the ground and the sole of James’ boot ground it into the dirt. It was the last cigarette James ever lit.
For the anon asking :) thanks lovely
I can’t think of any off the top of my head - can anyone help out with this one?
"For maybe half an hour, a glorious half-hour, he had believed he would be living with Sirius from now on … his parents’ best friend … it would have been the next best thing to having his own father back”
If somebody tries to tell me that Harry doesn’t miss his father they can get out of my face
The way she looked at him, made him feel like he could do anything,
Like he could be anyone.
The way she looked at him, was nothing short of magic.
I’ve spent the last hour trying to think of something good to post as my hundredth post on this blog - I thought about writing a very special drabble, or reblogging one of my favourite fan arts, maybe making a gif set - but the one thing i realised I wanted to do the most was thank you guys. I’ve only had this blog for just over 2 months, and already I’ve received more love from you all than I ever could have dreamed.
I was passionate about writing before I became heart-ablaze, but seeing that you guys love my stories as much as I do just makes me want to cry.
This is my 100th post, and I am dedicating it to you.
Thank you so, so much ♡
no, i love YOU! <3
“You don’t know the first thing about me, Potter! Stop pretending that you understand me when you don’t.” Lily snapped, her cheeks blazing crimson as the room full of students looked on. James stood dangerously close to her, towering over her – thanks to his most recent growth spurt – with his hands buried in his trouser pockets as he glared down at her.
But she was wrong, James Potter knew a lot about her, he did understand her more than she realised. He knew Lily drank her tea with sugar and milk, because she thought the taste of plain tea was bland. He knew she woke up early on Sunday’s to sit by the lake, because she liked the way the sunrise looked over the water. He knew she was brilliant at Potions, but her favourite subject was Charms. James also knew that Lily cried when The Beatles broke up. He knew that she always cut the crusts off her toast, because the crusts ‘make your hair curly’. That she hated pumpkin juice because of the pulp. He knew she thought wearing make up to class was a waste of time. James knew whenever Lily Evans was silent; something was very, very wrong. He knew she blushed more when she was angry, than when she was embarrassed. He knew that she chewed the ends of her hair when she was nervous. And that she bit her nails while she studied. He knew that she still preferred Muggle novels to Magical ones; because the stories were a piece of home. He knew she missed her dad more than anything in the world; he knew that a little piece of her died the day that he did. He knew she hated her hair, but could never bring herself to change it. He knew she didn’t hate Sirius as much as she pretended to. He knew she adored being adored by the first years. He knew that she hated the Dark Arts, but he also knew that she missed Severus Snape. He knew that his friendship meant the world to her; and knowing that was gone still hurt her sometimes. But mostly, James knew that Lily Evans was more complex and obscure than even she realised. She was stubborn, yet forgiving. She was an awful procrastinator, but she never once handed homework in later. She never forgot birthdays. She was compulsive, and neurotic. She followed every rule she could have; but the day she got detention for punching Lucius Malfoy in the face, James could have sworn he saw her grin. But more importantly than all that; James knew that she was having a rough week, and that maybe, just maybe – she was picking a fight with him because she needed a win. She needed something to be right about.
He stared down at her, his hands still buried deep in his pockets. With the most earnest voice he could muster, he lied, “You’re right, Evans. I don’t know the first thing about you. In fact, I don’t know anything about you.”
“I’m – I’m what?”
“Are you ill?”
“Are you ill?” She repeated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, “You never admit that I’m right.”
“Because you’re never right.”
James could have sworn he saw the sides of her mouth twitch.
this actually means so much to me. i honestly don’t know what to say, just… thank you, so so so much <3 <3
aww precious thank YOU! <3
He felt cold. Perhaps it was the cool air moving through the stone floor, or perhaps it was the open windows all along the corridor; James wished that he were naïve enough to believe that was what was causing the shivering through his bones. But he knew why he was cold.
James Potter was dying.
If Sirius had heard him say that, he would have told him to “Stop being so overdramatic, Prongs. It’s just a scratch.”
But it wasn’t just a scratch.
James Potter’s blood was everywhere. It was pooling around him, it was over his clothes, all over his hands and face. He coughed, with great pain, and blood splattered wall to his left. It was a beautiful colour though, James couldn’t deny. Red had always been James’ favourite. But this, this was a different kind of red; it was rich, warm, almost glistening. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying here; seconds, minutes, hours, days – he couldn’t tell. But he closed his eyes and waited. He waited for the pain to stop, it was excruciating and he was starting to hear things; screams, a woman screaming his name – it was too distant to be real, so he left his eyes closed.
This was how James Potter was going out, by the hand of a hooded stranger in a mask; somewhat anticlimactic, really. He was expecting something a little more elaborate, something a little more dramatic. But alas, this was it. So with the last of his strength he attempted to wipe some of the blood from his face. He didn’t want to be found dead, lying pathetically in a corridor, and not have anyone recognise the blood soaked face of their Head Boy. No, he would die with whatever dignity he could muster.
He was almost relieved when the pain subsided,
So this is it, then. He thought to himself, taking as deep a breath as he could. He was calmer than he thought he would have been at the moment of his death. He even felt his lips curve up when the hand of Death took hold of his. He opened his heavy eyes, but he didn’t see Death.
He saw Lily Evans, wand in hand and cheeks stained with tears. He tilted his head to the side; maybe this was it? Maybe you saw the one thing truly important to you, before you die? One last moment of clarity, or maybe it was so you would go with Death calmly, willingly, having had a chance to say goodbye. James didn’t know, all he knew was that real or not; Lily Evans was before him. And that was good enough for him.
“It wasn’t as painful as I thought.” He whispered to himself, watching her beautiful green eyes look over his wounds. There was terror in her eyes, she’d never seen James Potter looks so small, or so helpless. And it was all Severus Snape’s fault. Severus Snape and that bloody Sectumsempra.
“It looks painful.” She replied, holding tightly to his hand.
“Not that. Death.”
She lifted her head from looking at his gashed chest, letting go of his hand to cup his face in her hands, “You’re not dead, James. I mean, you could have died, but you’re going to be just fine. And Snape is going to pay for this.” Her voice was shaky, but somehow he still believed her that everything was okay.
“This was Snape?” he asked weakly, wanting to sit up, but he couldn’t muster the energy, “Looks like he’s a little jealous that you agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me.” He said with a small, pained chuckle.
“This wasn’t about me, James.” She whispered, her voice still really shaky as she stared down at the blood soaked Head Boy.
He smiled weakly, and leant into her hand, kissing her palm softly, “Even if it was, it’d be worth it.”
[Requested by anon - send requests here]