Jily Oneshots (pt2)

The Art of Self-Defense

"And he's got a broom."

"From me."

"Yes," she says, biting back a sting of resentment. "He doesn't need another. Or anything else. Which brings me back to my point: why are you here?"

He shrugs. "I was nearby, thought I'd stop in and say hello."

"Nearby. You were near Alderly Row, the town so remote we've got enough sheep that they could successfully stage a coup."

"From what you've told me about the town government, that might actually be an improvement." At Lily's look, he clears his throat. "I'm here for a bit of this, bit of that—"

"Dad!"

Lily swallows her retort as Harry comes bolting out of the back office. He careens around the desk and hurls himself into James's arms, the way he hasn't with Lily in several years. Harry's too cool to hug his mum in public these days, but apparently an unexpected appearance from his father can make even a nearly seventeen-year-old boy dismiss other people's opinions.

Seeing her son and his father hug sends a jolt of fear through Lily. Not because she thinks James can steal him away—he can't—but because Harry has truly become the spitting image of his father. They're nearly of a height now, and their hair blends together seamlessly as they embrace.

She won't let Harry become exactly like James, though. She won't let him repeat his father's mistakes.

Summer sun floods in through the wide lobby windows and catches on the boys' glasses. The boys' matching glasses, in fact. She hadn't put it together when Harry had picked them out, but there's no question of who inspired him.

The fireplace near the end of the desk chimes.

She's loath to leave James alone with Harry, but she has a job to do. As she slips down toward the fireplace, she overhears James tease Harry about Cho Chang and winces. Harry hasn't fancied Cho since autumn. He's been pining after Alicia Spinnet ever since, trying to work up the nerve to talk to her outside the Quidditch pitch. If only Quidditch games hadn't been canceled this past year, he might've spent more time with her, and maybe learned to relax in her presence.

If only the Tournament hadn't happened this year, she wouldn't keep waking up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, her sheets soaked.

Lily kneels down on the hearth pad and forces the swell of panic away because she is a professional.

She glances down toward James, draws her wand out of her robe pocket, and opens the Floo connection. Surely he can't wreak that much damage in five minutes.

"This is Lily at the front desk. How may I help you?"

By the time she's convinced another guest not to leave over the towel situation, and by the time she's finally got Manny on the Floo with a promise to be there with linens in twenty minutes, James and Harry have disappeared. She puts one of her staff in charge of the front desk and goes in search of her son.

She finds them sitting across from each other in the dining room, each with a heaping bowl of ice cream in front of him.

"You didn't get me any?" she tells Harry, pulling up a chair from another table. "I'm wounded."

"I was going to give you half of mine." He holds out his spoon to her. "That way we'll both be able to eat cake for lunch."

"Good boy." She reaches out to ruffle up his hair, but he ducks away. Merlin, but he's getting old so quickly. She's not going to be denied, though, and lifts up in her seat to close the gap between her hand and his hair. Once she's mussed it a bit, she sits back down and takes a bite of his ice cream.