Jily Oneshots (pt2)

Faodail

by Mo-Nighean-Donn

"Is this seat taken?"

Lily turned toward the voice to see none other than James Potter, hazel eyes and tousled black hair as perfect in real life as on the silver screen.

"It's yours if you want it," she returned, secretly proud of how steady her voice sounded. Inwardly, her brain was scrambling to remind her of every poster she'd ever had of James, every article, and interview she'd scoured the internet to find, and every one of the innumerable times she'd sobbed over his BAFTA-award winning performance in Cry For The Hills.

James smiled his thanks and slid onto the stool next to hers. "Not from around here, are you?" His voice was warm, almost sultry; a far cry from the awkward but funny guy she'd seen in interviews.

"That's correct."

"Here alone?"

"Correct again."

"What brings you to Glasgow?" He tried next.

"Just visiting." Lily stared straight ahead at the wall of coloured glass bottles behind the bar. Much as she wanted to, she could not make herself look at him. How many times had she fantasized about a moment exactly like this? A hundred? More like a thousand. And now she couldn't put more than two words together. It wasn't like her to be so star-struck. But then, she'd never met James Potter before. And he was nothing like what she had imagined.

James watched her speculatively while she toyed with the straw in her empty glass. After a moment, he nodded, decisively. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Now she looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Why would he want to buy her a drink? He was James-bloody-Potter! She was nobody. Was it a prank? He certainly seemed sincere. Really, she argued with herself, what did she have to lose? She glanced furtively at the bartender, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning back to James, she smiled shyly and accepted his offer. He smiled back and signaled the bartender.

"I'll have a single of the Talisker 10-year, neat, and a refill of whatever the lady is having."

There was an awkward moment of silence while they waited for their drinks. Lily was quiet, deliberating how to respond to this unlooked-for attention. On the few occasions men had approached her, they had wanted exactly one thing. What did James Potter want? Still, she wasn't going to reject outright the very man she'd had a crush on for the last two years. It couldn't hurt to give him a few minutes of her time, could it? She made her decision as she received her drink, a gin sour, minus the maraschino cherry garnish.

James took an appreciative sip of his whiskey before angling his body to face Lily. Leaning casually against the polished bar, he rumpled his hair with his free hand and gave her his charming, world famous grin. "Not to overuse the cliché, but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Lily's back stiffened. So that was how he wanted it? Well, two could play that game. "A place like this?" she echoed archly. "It's a very nice place. And I don't mind the cliché, but you're assuming a bit much."

Bingo. A crack appeared in the façade. "Oh? How's that?" he asked.

Emboldened by catching him off guard, she tilted her head coyly. "You're assuming I'm a nice girl."

He laughed suddenly, and his affectation of polished charisma disappeared completely. "You're quick. I guess we don't know anything about each other, do we?"

Lily smirked and leaned back in her seat, confident that she had the upper hand now. "Oh no?" Taking a long sip from her drink, she surveyed him coolly, then set the glass down with a precise click. "James Henry Potter, 29, born March 27, 1990, in Carlisle. Studied at the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, despite having shown incredible promise as an athlete in secondary school. After completing your course at Central you stayed in London for a few years to build your career, doing very well for yourself, but of course the big break that elevated you to international stardom was being cast as Owen Ward on Cry For The Hills, for which role you have won several awards. Shall I go on?"

His disbelief at the beginning of her recital had dissolved into a valiant, albeit futile, effort at keeping a straight face. When she finished, he chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Ah, no, thanks. Alright, you've made your point." His smile now was completely sincere, the one in her favorite pictures of him that were totally not pinned to a secret Pinterest board. He extended his hand and said simply, "James. But you already knew that."

Feeling repentant for having teased him, she shook his hand politely. "Lily."

"Facts aren't everything you know," he commented, sipping his whiskey.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, you still don't know who I am; what kind of person and all that."

"Speak for yourself, but I think I do.

"And what kind of person am I?" he baited her.

"Too much of a gentleman to hit on the girl at the bar like this. So, what's your deal?"

"Going for the direct approach, eh?"

"I've always found it best to be up front and honest, yes."

"I like that. Alright. I would like to have dinner with you. Tonight. Now, in fact."

Caution alarms in Lily's brain made her hesitate. "Why?" she asked bluntly, too confused to be polite.

"One reason." He leaned in, placed his hand on the back of her chair, and whispered. "I would like the chance to get to know you at least as well as you know me."

Was she crazy to say yes? Would it be crazier to say no? She couldn't just keep him waiting, she had to decide. "Yes."

He sat back, startled. "Yes?"

His surprise, once again, gave her the advantage. "Yes. Now, I am going to pay my tab," she moved towards him, imitating his whisper. "While you go collect your twenty quid off your friend sitting in the corner." She leaned back, fighting a grin of smug triumph.

James stared at her in open-mouthed shock. "How?"

She lifted one shoulder slightly. "I have an arrangement with the bartender; he's my Linus." She signaled said gentleman for her tab. "Meet me outside?"

"No. I don't want to let you out of my sight. You're clever."

"Thank you. But don't you want to collect your winnings?" Lily quickly paid her bill, gathered her handbag, and slipped off her barstool to stand beside James. Suddenly, her 5-feet 6-inches felt ridiculously small beside his lean, 6-foot 2-inch frame.

Instead of answering her, he simply watched, eyes thoughtful. "Want to make it forty?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty pounds, my winnings. I'd give you half."

Once again, alarm bells went off in Lily's head, but she hushed them quickly. "What would I have to do?" she asked warily.

"May I kiss you?"

Damn, thinking rationally was difficult when confronted with those hazel eyes. Well, Evans, she rationalized, you've gone this far. In for a penny, in for a pound. And you did promise Marlene you'd take this chance if you ever got it. "On the cheek, but make him believe it."

James smiled crookedly and placed his hands gently on either side of her face. "No worries there," he murmured. Briefly, but tenderly, he pressed a kiss just at the corner of her mouth, almost her lips, and Lily thought wildly that normal life would fall terribly flat after such a moment.

James straightened, eyes bright but face unreadable. He gave her a moment to collect herself before extending his arm. "Shall we?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Through the hotel lobby and out to the street, James didn't say a word. Each passing second of silence added to the rising panic in Lily's chest. Was he regretting asking her out? Had he hated kissing her? It hadn't even been on the lips, really. Or was it that—now that he had kissed her—any previous attraction was gone? Because there had to have been some attraction initially, or he wouldn't have asked her out, even for a wager, right? Why wouldn't he just say something?

It took only a minute for the valet to bring James' car around; he very kindly held her door before seating himself behind the wheel. Then he just sat there. Silent. Motionless.

"Ah," he said at last. "Where to?"

"Oh," Lily gasped. "I have no idea."

"Is there anywhere you prefer?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, haven't been here long enough."

He turned slightly to see her better in the car's darkened interior. "Do you like seafood?"

She nodded. Without another word, he put the car in gear and eased into traffic.

Half an hour later, Lily eased back into the dark green plush of the high-backed booth and looked around her in awe. Golden light directed upwards from geometric sconces bathed the high ceiling in a dim glow and reflected back down to illuminate the polished oak wainscoting and chrome trim of the Art Deco décor.

"I can't believe you got a table at Café Rogano on fifteen minutes' notice," she breathed.

"You know this place?"

"Know of it, yes. Never thought I'd get in, though."

"There are some benefits to being James Potter, I suppose."

"Speaking of the benefits of being rich and famous, who on earth bets money against you in a wager like that?"

James chuckled. "That would be my best mate, Sirius Black."

"Is he an idiot?"

"No, he just has eternal faith in my abysmal skills with women."

Having a drink in his hand once more seemed to have loosened James' tongue. Sequestered in a booth at the far end of the café, they observed the dinner traffic moving around them, as though their booth was an island in a stream, surrounded by noise and motion but removed from it.

They weren't seated opposite each other, nor were they exactly side by side. Lily was able to watch her dinner partner from the corner of her eye, feeling oddly familiar with him, and more than a little guilty about the hours she'd spent researching him over the last couple years. She knew how he spoke, how he moved, at least on camera. It gave her an unfair advantage now.

She snuck a more direct look at him now, and he glanced up and smiled before returning to his menu. Lily blushed and dropped her gaze to her own menu, forcing herself to focus.

"Anything look interesting?" James queried.

"Everything."

"Want to split oysters to start?"

"Hmm, I was looking at the mussels. That might be too much of the same to have both."

"What would you have if not the mussels?"

"The tagliatelle looks incredible," she admitted. "I shouldn't, but I want to, so bad."

"Done." James plucked the menu neatly from her hands. "If I've learned one thing it's that doing what you should is highly overrated, especially when it comes to food."

Lilly smirked. "Then how do you keep in shape?"

"My trainer understands my occasional indulgences," he replied loftily, then grinned. "But he also makes me pay for them."

The waiter materialized by their table to take their order.

"We will start with the Six Rockefeller Oysters," James began. "Then my friend will have the Hot Smoked Salmon and Seafood Tagliatelle, and I will have the Pan Fried North Atlantic Cod."

The water nodded crisply, took the menus, and disappeared as silently as he had come.

"So, seafood fan, eh? Did you grow up near the coast?"

Lily shook her head. "Cambridge, actually. I picked up my taste for it on the Amalfi Coast."

"What took you there?"

She shrugged. "Some girlfriends and I did a gap year together; traveled most of Europe and north Africa."

"Why north Africa?"

She shrugged again. "Everybody sees Europe, don't they?"

James scooted closer. "No, no, no. No short answers. Fair is only fair, and since you know my story already, I want to hear yours from start to finish." He leaned forward, stared intently into her eyes, and waited.

Lily blinked, then burst into giggles. Instantly, James retreated, a startled, worried confusion covering his features.

"I'm sorry, did I ask too much? I'm so sorry!"

"No, it's fine," Lily hastened to reassure him. "You just looked so much like a puppy waiting for a treat. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed."

James chuckled good-naturedly and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I must have. Although if it's canine resemblances you want, you ought to talk to Sirius, not me."

"I don't follow."

"Let's just say I've gotten into trouble more than once because I couldn't resist his puppy dog eyes."

"Oh dear."

"That's more like it. Now, your story?"

"Not a whole lot to tell, I'm afraid."

"Nonsense! You're young, gorgeous, and on holiday in Scotland. That alone is interesting."

Lily fixed her eyes on her napkin and wondered if she would ever recover from James Potter calling her gorgeous. I don't think he even knows he did it, she thought.

"Well," she began out loud. "Like I said, I was raised in Cambridge. We moved there when I was six because my dad got a job there. He was a teacher."

"Was?"

"He and my mum both passed away a few years ago."

"Oh my gosh, Lily, I'm so sorry. Don't say more if you don't want."

She smiled, barely. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. My mum had cancer; it was—sudden. And after she passed, well, my dad just—he couldn't get on without her, you know?"

James nodded sadly. She knew that he knew. It was no secret that his parents had died within months of each other before he was 20. James reached across the flatware to place his hand over hers.

Lily smiled her appreciation and took a deep breath. "Anyway, ah, I had a good childhood—happy."

"Any siblings?"

"A sister. She's older though; we aren't close. We pretty much went our separate ways when Dad died."

"Again, I'm sorry. I keep asking all the wrong questions."

Before she could answer, their food arrived, and Lily realized with a start that James still held her hand in his. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. They ate in silence, savoring each exquisite bite, but after a few minutes Lily continued.

"It is what it is. Life is just something you deal with sometimes. And I have some pretty fantastic friends to make up for a horrible sister."

"The friends you traveled with?"

"The same. We went through school together, did everything together, really. It only made sense to travel together too."

"And—hopefully this isn't another bad question—are you still close?"

"Oh, absolutely! When we finally came home we scattered a bit, going to different universities, but we always stayed in touch and spent holidays together. Our first Christmas home from uni, we were having a girl's night and got to talking about all the things we missed about travelling, and the places we'd seen. We started recreating them whenever we could. During holidays at first, then after graduation we all ended up back in Cambridge and we started doing it once a month."

"What would you recreate? Food?"

"Food, yes, but more the whole experience, the atmosphere of a place we had loved or connected with."

"Sounds like fun. Just for yourselves?"

"That's how it started. Then one person invites some friends from work, then another brings her boyfriend, then things get more and more elaborate, and before you know it you're all spending more time and effort on your hobby than your job and you figure you might as well make it your job."

"What did you do then?" James was leaning forward again, thoroughly caught up in Lily's life story.

"The only thing we could do! We opened a shop."

"Brilliant! What kind of shop? And what's it called?"

"It's called L'Histoire. It's a bakery and lunch place, and we sometimes cater or host private parties."

"Themed, I'm assuming."

Lilly laughed. "Sort of. It's a crazy, wild fusion of each of our favorite places. Sometimes one has a stronger influence, sometimes another."

"Which places were your favorites?"

"Alice loved France, not just Paris but all of it, so there's lots of that, especially since she's our pastry chef. Marlene fell in love with Italy, and Dorcas lost her heart to Eastern Europe. Romania, Ukraine, etc."

"And what about you?"

Lily's smile became introspective. "Morocco."

She fell silent, and James returned to his food, giving Lily a moment before clearing his throat. "Must be quite the shop you have then."

Lily smiled and nodded.

"I'm curious. If you own and operate a proper business, what brings you to Glasgow now? Wouldn't summer be your busiest season?"

"It is," she admitted. "But, Marlene and Dorcas are expanding, and I wasn't sure I wanted to commit to the shop as a full career for the rest of my life, so I stepped back. I'll be a silent partner until I figure out what my next move is."

"You didn't enjoy running the shop after all?"

"I did, but there has to be more to life than working a job, right? Even one you love."

"I don't know," he mused. "I mean, take me for example. I'd been in the school plays going back to when I was a stag in a primary school production of Bambi, and I'd enjoyed it, always had a flare for the dramatic, my mum said. But I never figured on it for a career; I wanted to play football. Then I had knee surgery the summer before my last year at school, which meant I was out for the season, but I could still act, so I focused on that. And by the time I was recovered enough to get back into sport, it had all sort of passed me by. Lost my window, I suppose, and I wasn't happy about it either. But I decided I had to do something, and damned if I was going to do something ordinary, so I went ahead with acting, and—it was brilliant. I got into Central in London, and really made a go of it, though I did my share of pulling pints and pouring coffee at first." He gave a short laugh, then paused, thinking seriously. "It's still a job; a career. Technically, I work, I get paid. I guess my point is, I was lucky enough to discover something I really love, and that I'm good at. I've been helped along the way, and now I can't imagine doing anything else. It's sort of become my life."

Lily couldn't take her eyes off of him as he talked. He was so expressive, without even trying, or being aware of how much his eyes gave away. Suddenly, he wasn't speaking anymore, but staring back at her just as intently. She jumped a little and hastily turned her attention to the last bites of her food.

"Well, um, you're one of the lucky ones. You found what doesn't feel like a job. I looked around me and realized I'd been sitting behind a desk almost my whole life. School, uni, work, everything except my gap year. And that was the time I remembered the best."

"Behind a desk?"

"I was the office manager for our business, so I didn't get out in the shop much, and the busier we became, the less I left the office."

"What's your degree?"

"Political Science and Economics."

"Which meant you were the best option for a business manager."

"I was the best qualified of the four, yes."

He pushed his empty plate away and sat back. "And so the girl who's done it all sets off in search of more."

Lily drew back, frowning. There was a teasing note in his tone she didn't care for. She had nearly forgotten, in the ease of their conversation and the connection that had sprung up between them, that he was still practically a stranger. Not only a stranger, but an incredibly famous one. He was right: knowing about him didn't mean she knew him. And here she'd told him her whole life story. Not smart, Evans, she berated herself.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" James was worried by her prolonged silence.

"No, sorry," Lily fibbed. "I just—was thinking." She smiled brightly and changed the topic. "Tell me about the youth programs you work with."

For the rest of the evening, through dessert of crème brûlée and sticky toffee pudding and coffee, she kept the conversation strictly away from anything personal. James regaled her with stories from projects he'd worked on, he shared about the charities and causes he supported, but he didn't offer anything more about his personal life either, and Lily wasn't about to ask.

Eventually, he paid the bill and escorted her back to his car. "Where can I take you?" he asked.

Lily gave the address of a coffee shop near her hotel.

"Are you sure? I don't mind taking you right to your hotel. It's no trouble."

"Thanks, but I've got a couple emails to take care of. If I go to my hotel, I'll fall asleep and never get my work done."

He looked unconvinced. She noticed that two little lines appeared between his eyebrows when he was thinking. He was adorable. Why? Why did she have to be attracted to someone so completely unattainable?

"It's fine," she insisted. "It's only around the corner to where I'm staying from there; an easy walk."

"Well, alright then. If you're sure."

"I am."

By the time James pulled up in front of the coffee shop, Lily had almost convinced herself that any interest he had shown was simply him being nice. There was no way James Potter would actually be interested in her. Celebrities dated other celebrities, or at least other high-profile people with causes and charities and massive followings on Instagram. Not shop accountants from Cambridge.

James parked and hurried around to open her door. Of course he was a perfect gentleman; he was just perfect. Then came the most awkward moment of any date: saying good night.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," she began primly, then caved and smiled up at him. "I had an amazing time."

"So did I," he said, smiling too.

They had smiled a lot that evening; he made her smile.

"Hey, thank your mate for daring you to ask me out. I owe him one."

James laughed, then stepped closer and held her gaze. "Thanks for saying yes."

The air between them crackled. James lifted his hand as if to take hers, then dropped it.

"Well, uh, I guess I should let you go then. Emails await."

"Right, yes. Can't—ah—get behind." Lily found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. Where had the oxygen gone? "Thanks again," she finished lamely.

"Yeah, no, I had a really nice time." He began backing away towards his car. "Well, good night, Lily."

She gave him a tiny wave, and he was gone. "Good bye, James," she whispered.

Lily stood outside the coffee shop for several minutes, watching the spot where his taillights disappeared around the corner. Then she sighed, shrugged, and turned into the light and warmth of the shop.

_

Lily knew that it simply wasn't sustainable to continue living off restaurant food, so Monday afternoon found her wandering the aisles at the local Waitrose. Just as she reached for a carton of almond milk, she heard the last sound in the world she ever would have expected.

"Lily!"

She dropped the cooler door, which landed with a dull smack on her outstretched hand, frozen in its quest for almond milk. Whirling about in search of the source of the disturbance, she spied James Potter—of all people!—striding towards her, looking unfairly cool despite the recent burst of unseasonable heat.

"James! Hi."

He smiled warmly. "Hi." He shuffled his feet, reached up to scratch the back of his neck, blushed. "It's nice to see you."

"Yeah, ah, nice to see you too," she faltered. There was an awkward silence, Lily could feel her own blush creeping up her cheeks as she remembered their parting three nights earlier. He hadn't made any move then to see her again. In fact, in the extensive and minute review she had conducted of their date over the past two and a half days, she had found absolutely no evidence that he, James Potter, ever had been attracted to or interested in her, Lily Evans. He had even admitted that Sirius dared him to ask her out. It had only been her blind vanity that led her to hope for more. Blind vanity, and the fact that she'd had a raging crush on him for over a year.

But you weren't exactly encouraging, the imp in the back of her mind chortled gleefully.

Shut up! She snapped back at it.

"So," James broke into her thoughts. "You're still in Glasgow. How are you enjoying it?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nice. There's lots to see."

"Yeah, there is. It's a great city," he enthused.

Having exhausted that topic of conversation, silence descended once more. Lily couldn't bring herself to meet James's gaze, while he rocked back and forth on his heels and ran a hand through his hair, a trademark gesture apparently.

Lily had never been more ashamed of herself or embarrassed in her life, and that included the time she was responsible for a gondolier falling overboard in Venice, and the time she accidentally caused a donkey-drawn cart of produce to run amuck in Greece. No, she wished right now that the floor would open up and swallow her whole, all because she fancied a boy with messy black hair and roguish hazel eyes.

James decided to give talking another go. "Where are you staying?"

Grow a spine, Evans, Lily chastised herself sharply. "At a guest house, just up from the Botanical Gardens."

Pleased to have elicited a genial response, James smiled broadly. "Oh, that sounds grand! Nicer than a hotel, I'm guessing. Have you been to the gardens yet?"

"Yesterday. They're beautiful." Lily was profoundly relieved to hear conversation flowing more readily. James could really talk when he wanted, and she was determined to hold up her end of the dialogue.

"I haven't been there in years," he commented. "Just gotten so busy, you know. I moved here for work, and sometimes I wish I had a little more time to enjoy where I live."

"You must be incredibly busy about now. You wrap filming on season three soon, don't you?"

"Yeah, we're headed into our last block."

"Do you have any other projects scheduled in the next year?"

"Ah, yes, but, I can't really say…" He hesitated awkwardly.

Lily blushed again. "Right, of course. I'm so sorry; I'm prying."

"No, no," he hastened to assure her. "I don't mind. It's just—NDA's and all."

For the third time, neither of them knew what to say. Lily could have thrown herself off a cliff. It had been going so well, and she had ruined it. Again. Really, what was the point of fancying a bloke if all it did was make a fool out of you?

James, ever the gentleman, cleared his throat. "Well, I should, uh, probably let you go. I'm sure you have plans to be somewhere."

The reluctance and disappointment evident in his voice finally pulled Lily's focus off her own struggle. It occurred to her that the entire situation wasn't the most comfortable for James either. "Not really," she replied gently. "I'm just—wandering today. What about you?"

"I have the rest of the day off, actually."

"That must be nice!"

"Yeah, it doesn't happen often."

"No, I guess not." She took a deep breath. "It was really nice seeing you again," she offered.

He brightened. "Yeah, you too! I enjoyed dinner the other night."

"So did I!"

"Really?" He sounded—hopeful?

"Yes, very much."

"Because, near the end, I wasn't sure you had," he admitted shyly. "You got all sort of, closed off. I thought maybe I upset you somehow."

Lily's heart went out to him. "Oh my gosh, no! It was my fault. I just—I got all freaked out in my head about why you would ask me out and—I'm so sorry. You were completely lovely and—I just wasn't sure what to make of it."

"Really?" he asked again, gently.

"Really," she answered, green eyes answering the question asked by hazel ones.

They were quiet again, but this time there was no awkwardness.

"Would you like to grab a coffee sometime?"

Lily smiled. "I would like that."

"Great! Today, maybe? It's just—I'm not sure when I'll have a free afternoon again."

"Sure," she agreed. "I just need to finish my shopping and take it back to my room. Where would you like to meet?"

"How about the same place I dropped you off? Around 3:00?"

"That works just fine."

"Okay, I'll see you then." He was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

"See you then." She turned on her heel and walked swiftly around the corner, where she paused, hand to her chest, gasping for breath. After a moment, and after quelling the impulse to peek around the shelving to see if James was still there, she smiled—a secret exultation, as though her heart crept to her lips without her knowing. Then she walked on, all thoughts of almond milk forgotten.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It would have been ridiculous to change before meeting James; he would notice and she would look pathetic, like she was trying too hard. Lily thanked whatever stars were responsible that the warmer weather had led her to choose her blue sundress and linen espadrilles that morning. What had seemed a bit much for aimless wandering and grocery shopping was suddenly completely apropos.

With trembling hands, Lily smoothed her long, dark red hair over her shoulder and reached for the door handle. James was already there, seated in an easy chair in the corner, an absent, thoughtful expression on his face as he stared out the window.

Lily watched him for a moment, taking in the clean lines and angles of his lean face, the confident set of his shoulders, the way his foot tapped to the music without his being aware of it. She sighed. Everything about him spoke of a man who was assured of himself and his place in the world. She envied him that knowledge, and the confidence that came with it.

Then he turned, saw her, smiled, his whole face lighting up. She gave him a tiny wave and began the arduous process of picking her way through the already packed tables to the slightly more secluded corner he had chosen. When she reached him, he stood and gave her a quick hug before offering her a seat.

"Thanks," she said. "But I'll go order first. Be right back."

"Right, yeah, of course."

When she returned, he was on the phone, but smiled in apology and held up one finger, indicating he'd be done in a minute. She smiled and gestured for him to take his time. She sat in the chair next to his and carefully set her tea on the table between them.

"Yes, yes, I know," he was saying. "And I promise I'll be there. Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah, got it. Look, I really have to go. No, I have to—okay. Alright." Long pauses punctuated these remarks as the voice on the other end of the line chattered away without cessation. Finally, James rolled his eyes and broke in. "Look, Peter, we all got the invitations a month ago, and the reminder cards last week. I'll be there. We can hash out details later, okay? But right now, I really have to go. Bye."

He ended the call with a vicious stab before sagging into his chair in relief. Then he laughed. "I am so sorry about that. My mate, he's having a massive party for another friend of ours. I mean, I get that it's a big deal that Remus graduated from law school, but Peter's taking the party more seriously than Remus took school, and that's saying something."

Unsure how to respond, Lily smiled vaguely and reached for her tea.

"So," James began. "How long are you in Scotland?"

"I don't know. Indefinitely. I was thinking about a month."

"A month is a long time for a holiday."

Lily shrugged. "Time was what I wanted, and I'd never been to Glasgow. But now—" She broke off.

"Now?" He prompted, leaning forward.

She bit her lip, thinking. "I remembered travelling with friends. It's—different—alone."

"Not as fun?"

Lily stared into her cup for a long moment. "I don't know," she answered slowly. "In some ways, yes, because I am alone. But, at the same time, I'm not tied to anyone else's schedule or waiting for the shower in the morning." She smiled lightly. "It's just different. And I need to give myself time to adjust before deciding whether or not I like it."

"Fair point. Are you staying close to the city or exploring further away?"

The conversation moved easily from there, as Lily moved from her current travels to her travels in Europe, James asking leading questions to keep her talking and occasionally sharing relevant stories of his own.

As she talked, James casually reached for her phone, sitting next to his beside their long empty cups. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, halting in the middle of a tale about getting hopelessly lost in Casablanca.

"Go on," James encouraged. "Don't mind me."

Lily stumbled to pick up the thread of her story as James tapped away for a minute. Then, setting it back on the table, he picked up his own phone, still paying perfect attention to Lily.

A second later, Lily's phone buzzed. She leaned forward, and saw a text from James P. Up went the eyebrows again; this time James only smiled politely. Sighing, Lily opened the text.

Having a lovely time, it read. But the cameras are getting rather curious.

Glancing about the shop—casually of course—Lily noticed no fewer than three lenses trained on them. Her phone buzzed again.

Fancy a stroll? I know a lovely garden…lots of tall hedges…

She answered quickly. Just text me the directions.

James stood with overexaggerated courtesy and offered his hand. Shaking hers vigorously, he said loudly, "Very pleased to meet you Miss Evans. Do let me know how I can assist your organization in the future."

Startled, Lily gaped at him. At his sharp look, she gasped out, "Thank you for your time. We at—" she spied a stack of magazines on a table nearby. "Horse & Hound appreciate it."

His face flushed with supressed laughter and his lips pressed into a thin line to avoid grinning. "My pleasure, as always."

With much ceremony, he took his leave, and Lily sat a few minutes longer, scribbling in a notebook to perpetuate the ruse. When James's directions appeared on her screen, she gathered her things and exited the shop with as much dignity as she could muster, thankful that no cameras were in sight.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Horse & Hound?!" was the first question out of James's mouth when Lily stepped out of a cab half an hour later. "Are you mad?" was the second.

She laughed. "It was the first thing I saw!" she defended herself. "Besides, don't I get points for being able to keep up with your little charade back there?"

James turned and began walking slowly down a long gravel avenue lined with oak trees; Lily falling into step beside him. "Points, definitely, lots of points. All the points to Lily. But," his tone turned grieved. "Did it have to be Hugh Grant's cover from Notting Hill?"

Lily burst out laughing. "It was! I completely forgot!" It was several moments before she regained control. Once she had, she mused, "It's been ages since I last watched that."

"What, you don't watch it once a month at wine night with your girlfriends?" he jibed.

She wrinkled her nose. "Not always a Hugh Grant fan. Some roles, yes; other roles…" she left the sentence hanging delicately.

"I totally get it! I mean, is he even capable of getting a sentence out without taking a bloody week to do it?"

Lily beamed. "Thank you! I've never understood the whole stuttering idiot appeal. And Julia Roberts, who I'm sure is perfectly lovely, sounds practically vulgar next to even the slightest hint of a British accent. Any accent, really."

"The pacing felt off too. That whole era, and their quiet romantic movies, it didn't always work. Like You've Got Mail. I love Tom Hanks but that is a terrible movie."

"But," Lily countered. "When it did, it really did. Sleepless in Seattle."

"Touché. Also Tom Hanks. That's interesting."

"Why, James Potter, I had no idea you were a fan of romantic comedies." She teased airily.

He blushed and swatted at a fly buzzing sluggishly around his head. "Oh, my mum loved them, so I've seen a lot. Want to see the bridge?"

The abrupt change of subject caught Lily off guard, but she merely smiled and nodded, following James's lead.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"And that's how I ended up in a dodgy lift with the lights flickering, holding a turkey carcass in a garbage bag."

Lily laughed until she couldn't breathe. "You have to be making that up!"

"Nope. All of a sudden I looked down at that bag in my hands and thought, how on earth did I end up here?"

"Was it worth it?"

"Completely. A good prank always is. Don't tell me you didn't pull the odd prank back in the day."

Lily smiled demurely.

"What, never?"

She shook her head.

James shook his head too. "I don't believe you. You're hiding something, Lily Evans. Oh well. Someday you'll tell me."

Lily pulled up short. "Someday?"

Instantly, James's eyes widened, his face paling under its tan. For seven long, agonizing seconds, hazel and green eyes locked. Then James squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

Summoning his courage, one corner of his mouth tipping in an adorable, vulnerable grin. "Yeah. Well, I mean, you're here for a while, and I thought, maybe, you know, if you don't mind—we've gotten on pretty well so far, and—" at this point he ran out of words and simply stood in red-faced silence.

"It's okay, I know what you meant," Lily offered gently.

"Oh, good. That's—good."

Lily looked around her, simply so she would stop staring at him, and saw that they had walked around the entire garden and arrived back at the front gate. A quick check of her watch told her it was time to go.

"This was nice," she said. "I'm glad we ran into each other."

"Me too," he said softly, still watching her curiously.

She stepped to the sidewalk and hailed a passing cab.

"Wait," he called. "I'll see you later?"

She opened the cab door and looked back over her shoulder at him, managing a playful grin. "That's entirely up to you now, isn't it?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lily never really expected him to contact her again. Sure, he had put his number into her phone, and he had expressed a wish to see her again, but she still couldn't believe that it actually meant anything. Especially when the big news two days later was his appearance at a gala and benefit with Daisy Ridley. That was the kind of girl that got a call back, for movie roles and dates.

His friend had dared him to ask her out the first time, Lily reminded herself after reading that article. And if they hadn't run into each other at the grocery store, they probably never would have seen each other again. Ever. So even after dinner, and coffee, and a very pleasant stroll around Pollok Park, Lily went hot and cold and numb all over when his name showed up on her screen three days after said coffee and stroll. Calling, not just texting.

She answered, holding the phone to her ear with shaking hands. Chill, she reprimanded herself sharply. He's a regular person, same as anybody. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lily, it's James."

"Hi!"

"Look, I'm hoping you're free next Saturday. And I wondered if you've seen any of Loch Lomond yet."

"You know, I haven't gotten up that way yet, but I've been wanting to."

"Great!" He hesitated. "Um, would you maybe like to go with me?"

The uncertainty, the hope in his voice, was palpable. Lily sank into a chair, knees weak. He was really asking her out, for real. Her, Lily Evans. And if he was this apprehensive about it, then he really was the same as the next person out there, and there was no reason for her to be nervous.

"I'd really like that, and yes, I'm free Saturday," she answered.

She heard him take a deep breath, and suddenly realized just how much tension had been carrying through the phone. "That's great. I'm glad. Mornings are just amazing on the loch; I could pick you up around—ten?"

She smiled. "If mornings are amazing, we should probably see it in the morning. By ten it'll feel like afternoon."

He laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that made it suddenly very difficult to breathe properly. "Well, yeah, but I wasn't sure how early you'd want to get up on a weekend."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I'm up by six normally anyway." It was true; even after two weeks of vacation, her body was routinely waking her by her old schedule.

"Wow, really? Okay, well, can you be ready by 7:00? I was thinking of heading out to Balmaha, and that takes about an hour, so we'd be on the water by eight or so."

"That sounds perfect." She quickly gave him the address, and they said their goodbyes. The phone went black, then flipped back to the home screen, a picture of her with friends in Venice. Lily sat there for a while, just looking at it. She was itching to call someone, tell someone what was going on. But she couldn't. Some gut instinct warned her to keep quiet. If it never went anywhere, nobody would ever be the wiser, and there would be no embarrassment. And if it did…but she didn't let herself think about that.

_

There may have been no reason for nerves, but when James pulled up in front of Lily's hotel at 7:05 the following Saturday, she felt inexplicably shy. This felt uncannily like a first date, like fate and destiny and the universe were hinging on this day, this moment. It scared her.

James smiled broadly as she came down the front steps. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," she replied.

"You look gorgeous. Here, let me take that for you." He moved to lift Lily's day pack off her shoulder. Quickly she removed it herself and handed it to him. He took it, opened the passenger door, and set it behind the seat before handing her into the car with a gentlemanly flourish. When he had seated himself behind the wheel, he gave her a wink and a grin. "Ready for this?"

She smiled back at him and nodded.

The morning sun was bright and blinding as the snaked their way north and west out of the city. Once they were officially on the open road, James opened the center console to reveal a handful of granola bars and water bottles. "Here, in case you're hungry."

"Thanks. I'm good for now though." She had her own stash in her bag but was pleased by his thoughtfulness. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she stared out the window at the passing countryside.

When they reached the village of Balmaha, the sun was already high though still morning bright, and the air was cool with that silky softness that betokens sultry afternoons. James parked the car and they wandered slowly towards the water's edge, pausing to observe the activity in the marina.

James struck onto a trail that rounded the bay and disappeared into the trees that grew right to the water's edge.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said suddenly.

"Sure."

"The night we met, at the bar, you said something that I didn't understand. About the bartender."

Lilly blushed, remembering with embarrassment how she'd treated James at first.

"You called him your Linus," James continued.

"I did," she admitted reluctantly.

"Well? What does that mean?"

"It's just a reference from a tv show."

"Really? What show?"

"Ah, an American show. One I used to watch back in uni. It's been off for a few years now."

"Have I seen it?" he prodded.

"Probably not; you'd know the reference if you had." Lily wished he would stop.

James lifted an eyebrow, but refrained from further questions. "Fair enough. Linus the bartender," he mused. "I'm intrigued; I may have to look that one up." He laughed ruefully. "In my oh-so-abundant spare time."

"They do keep you busy, don't they?"

He nodded mournfully. "Had to sneak out just to see you today."

Lily stopped short, thoroughly horrified. "James! You didn't!"

He laughed. "No, but you should have seen the look on your face!"

"That's awful!" Lily elbowed James in the ribs.

"Oof! Hey! But worth it. God, you're easy."

"I am not," she grumbled under her breath.

James merely laughed and dropped his arm around her shoulders.

Loch Lomond was breathtaking, the water a deep, sparkling blue-black rimmed in gently rolling hills punctuated by rocky crags, while Conic Hill rose magnificently behind them, standing guard over the village tucked securely at its base.

Past the pier and on they strolled, delighting in each fresh vista of fields and pastures; savouring the fresh morning breeze carrying the spicy scents of heather and fern. And always there was the unchanging beauty and serenity of the loch. Its placid, mysterious depths radiated assurance, steadfastness, a sense of holding itself apart from the earth it inhabits. There was no need for words in this place removed from time; there were no anxious efforts to 'get to know each other.' The loch cast its age-old spell over them, as though simply by being near it, being became enough. Carefree clouds scudded across the summer-blue sky, pale and remote, shadows danced across the surface of the water, soughing winds rippled the long grass on the hills and ruffled little waves down the length of the loch.

Lily found herself surprisingly—comfortable. Walking next to James, talking when she felt like it, being silent when she didn't feel like talking. Laughing with him. It was easy to laugh with James. When he suggested turning back, she sighed, disappointed, but nodded her agreement. It was nearly lunch time, and she was hungry. But she didn't want it to be over.

When they approached the car, James aimed for the rear door, not the front, and asked, "Ready for lunch?"

"Lunch?" She was thoroughly confused.

James lifted a large wicker basked from the car and watched her curiously, hazel eyes sparkling. "Lunch. Commonly the second meal of the day, sometimes called dinner, but almost always eaten around midday. Which it now is."

She giggled. "I know what lunch is; I just wasn't aware you'd brought any."

"Ah, well, I figured we'd want a little something after that hike. Care to find some shade?"

They found a cool and relatively level spot beneath a tree in a park next to a statue, and James spread out a thick blanket, likewise retrieved from the depths of his car.

"Now, close your eyes," he instructed.

"Why?"

"Just close them."

"And when I open them there will be a surprise?" She asked warily.

"Exactly. So, okay? Please?" He was begging. She couldn't refuse him when he was begging.

She heaved a sigh, and dramatically covered her eyes with her hands. "Alright. They're closed."

"Good. No peeking."

"I never cheat!" She was indignant.

For the next few minutes, she could only guess at what James was up to. He didn't make much noise setting out the food—she assumed his surprise had to do with the contents of the basket—but he produced an alarming series of huffs, puffs, mutterings, and exclamations that kept her amused.

"Ta-da!" James said with a flourish. She could tell he was flourishing. It was a James thing to do. "You can look now."

Lily lowered her hands and opened her eyes—she never peeked—and gasped. Then laughed. Then nearly cried. Then laughed again. "James! What—how?"

The blanket was spread over the grass, now scattered with pillows and a bewildering array of dishes. There were real plates, and cloth napkins, and cold bottles of cider in a cooler full of ice.

He beamed at her from the other side of the blanket. "You like it?"

"Like it! It's—it's the most incredible—"

"Good." He nodded with satisfaction and began removing lids and unwrapping tin foil packets. "Now, don't tell me, I totally memorized what each of these are called."

Lily breathed in the rich aromas of saffron, jasmine, cinnamon, apricot, and curry. For a moment, she was back in the souks of Marrakesh, surrounded by the heady atmosphere of spices, romance, and adventure. Then a gust of wind blew in off the lake, and she came back to Scotland, back to shades of green instead of orange, and cool wet winds in place of sandstorms. Back to James, still attempting to name each food set between them. She smiled, and for the first time since leaving it, she wouldn't rather be in Morocco.

"Alright, I give up. I can't remember any of them." He ran one hand through his hair and shrugged, an embarrassed blush staining his high cheekbones.

Lily grinned at him. "It was sweet of you to try. Let's see what we've got here." Rearranging to sit more comfortably, she leaned forward to inspect the feast.

"Oh, shit!" James' exclamation interrupted Lily fishing a piece of meat from a tagine—lamb, she discovered.

"What's wrong?" she asked around her mouthful.

"No forks! Or spoons, or anything. They've sent along piles of bread I don't remember ordering, but there's no utensils." He sat back on his heels and shook his head.

Lily shook hers, but at James, not negligent restaurant staff. "Silly boy, the bread is the utensils. It's called khubz. Moroccan food is almost all finger food. Here, try this." As she spoke, she tore off a large piece of bread and scooped up some of the tagine she had just tasted. She held it toward him with her other hand cupped beneath to catch any drips. He leaned back slightly and cocked one eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, why order the food if you don't plan on eating any of it?"

"Because I knew you'd like it?"

Touched, but determined not to show it, Lily moved the food closer to him. "And I suppose you have sausage rolls and Scotch eggs stashed somewhere for yourself?" She raised her own eyebrows at him, envying his ability to raise only one. She'd never managed that, and not for lack of trying.

His guilty blush told her she was right. Rolling her eyes, she ate the tagine herself, and scooped up another bite. "Come on, Potter. Eat up."

With a longsuffering sigh, he leaned forward and obediently opened his mouth, closing it around lamb, apricot, and flatbread. He chewed for two seconds before both eyebrows flew towards his hairline. "That's amazing!" he mumbled, still chewing.

"Told you," Lily smirked.

James reached for more khubz. "I was going to ask you what it was about Morocco that you loved so much, but I get it now. It's this, all this. What's it called?" And he stuffed another hearty bite into his mouth.

Lily stifled a giggle. "Tagine. It's a slow-cooked stew. You think it's good now, you should try it properly, right from the clay dish, fresh off the charcoal fire." She picked up a slice of savory chicken bastilla and took a bite. "Wow!"

"Is it good?"

"It's amazing! I haven't had any so good since I was actually in Morocco. How did you know what to order?"

He grinned. "I didn't; I got lucky. Called a couple places until I found one I could talk to well enough, had a lovely chat with the owner, explained that I was trying to impress a pretty girl, and she said to leave it to her."

Lily blushed and ignored the pretty girl comment. "Well, you'll have to give me the name."

"Yeah, of course. Seriously though, was it the food that you liked so much about Morocco? I mean, it's a pretty big country, I looked it up, and I mean, there has to be more you enjoyed."

Lily paused in stirring a dish of couscous. When she spoke, she went slowly, feeling her way before placing her words, then picking up speed. "The food, the colours, the way everything seems so—alive. Oversaturated. The colour and texture in the souks, even the open spaces of the desert. It's—an assault on the senses no matter where you go. Even in a place you're supposed to relax, like in our riad, everything is so strong you don't have a choice but to relax. Your environment is informing what you do, how you act, and you can fight it, or you can let it carry you away like a magic carpet ride and you're just hanging on trying to soak up every moment and hoping you don't miss anything." She stopped for a breath, and blushed. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"Don't! Never apologize for being passionate about something. That's—well, that's sort of how I feel about acting. Like I can't help it, it just happens and I'm along for the ride."

She nodded. After a moment, she gestured to the rapidly dwindling lunch. "Thank you, so much, for—everything."

"It's my pleasure." After another pause, James suddenly started upright, eyes wide. "Tea! I completely forgot, there's tea." He reached into the basket and produced an enormous thermos and two cups. "Here we go, thought something was missing."

"Thanks," Lily accepted the steaming cup he offered her and shifted so she was sitting with her back against the rough bard of an oak tree. "That's good. Tell me about growing up in Carlisle."

"Oh, it was brilliant. Spent most of my youth on the football pitch, so that was cool. Of course, after I left for boarding school, I wasn't there much, just on holidays and for a few months after graduation."

"You went to boarding school?"

James gave her a look. "Lily, by your own admission, you already know everything there is to know about me. You don't have to pretend your interested."

Lily took a sip of tea and shook her head. "One, I don't know everything. Two, I want to hear it from you, even if I do know it. I only know bare facts, and knowing facts doesn't mean I know you, remember?"

He laughed at his own words from the night they met. Nodding slowly, he poured his own cup of tea. "Alright then. What do you want to know?"

"What was your school like?"

"Incredible. Great big stone castle in the middle of nowhere-shire, surrounded by miles of forest even more ancient than the castle with one tiny village nearby. It was a boy's paradise."

"And your mates went to the same school?"

"They did. After a couple years there, I lost track of most of the lads I'd grown up with, and when you're at boarding school, you get to be like family, you know? I mean, you're just together all the time. How much have I told you about them?"

"Just that together you pulled a lot of outrageous pranks. And that you're still close."

"We are. All ended up in Glasgow too, about a year ago. I don't know what I'd do without them."

"Where was this magical school?"

"Here in Scotland, actually. Part of why I moved back. Scotland feels more like home to me than Carlisle."

"Do you regret that?"

James shrugged. "Sometimes I wish maybe my parents had kept me closer. I spent all those years away from them and then when I came home suddenly they were just—" he swallowed hard. "They were just gone. And I never really got the chance to—to just be around them, you know? Going for lunch, popping by for Sunday dinner, Christmas, Easter. I'll never have that, never know that adult relationship with my parents. And I can't help thinking sometimes that if they hadn't sent me away—" he broke off with a harsh laugh. "I suppose it's the height of unfilial conduct to say that about them when they're gone, but there it is. I wish they hadn't tried to give me every advantage. I wish they had kept me closer while they were still around." He cleared his throat. "Never told anyone that before. You're too easy to talk to, Evans."

Lily shuffle uncomfortably. "You didn't have to tell me all that."

"Why shouldn't I?" James looked at her, eyes earnest.

"Oh, well—because—well, you're—you. And I'm—I'm just—" she trailed off.

James sat up and scooted closer to her. "There is nothing 'just' about you, Lily Evans. Why should who I am make any difference what I share with my friends? I'm nothing special; I'm just James Potter from Carlisle." He placed one hand over hers on the blanket. "You can't go around treating me like I'm fragile and making exceptions. I hate it when people get all precious with me. It's why I'm so grateful for my mates; they view it as their duty to keep my ego in check. I think they even swore solemnly or something."

Lily chuckled with James before he continued. "Friends are—honest—with each other. Open. We are friends, aren't we, Lily?"

Lily didn't know what to say, but she nodded mutely, aware of the heat in her face.

"Right," he said, with a return to his natural vivacity. "Now that we've got that sorted, have I told you about the time I saw Daniel Craig smashed at a party?"

"James Bond?" Lily couldn't help her curiosity.

"007, in the flesh, completely pissed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was late afternoon when James dropped Lily off, at which point they stood beside the car for another half hour, still talking. James' little speech had stripped away the final barriers between them. Lily could talk with him like she would any of her friends, and found that he was sweet, and funny, and kind, and all those other things she'd heard about him. It was one thing to see him in video clips and social media, and quite another to discover his character for herself, and find a friend.

She had thought of perhaps seeing a movie that evening but dropped those plans in favor of staying in and relaxing. Marlene had a few questions about an account Lily had left open, and a fifteen-minute business call turned into a leisurely three-hour chat. Marlene told her everything that was happening with the shop—they'd opened a second location and expanded the first—and with everyone back home. Lily recounted her favorite places she'd seen so far, the food she'd eaten, the people she'd seen. She spoke about everything except James. Even to her very best friend, she couldn't quite get her mouth to form the words, "oh, and by the way, I've been seeing James Potter."

She felt guilty; it was the first secret she'd kept from Marlene since they met in secondary school. But it just didn't feel right to say anything. If she and James continued seeing each other, Lily wanted the space to figure it out before well-meaning friends got involved. Wasn't that why'd she'd come to Scotland in the first place, for space? She'd wanted time to figure herself out, to make a plan for the rest of her life, and she'd gone and met someone in the first three days. Not just anyone either. James was—different. Special. And not because he was famous. Because he was—James.

She didn't hear from him for almost a week after the lakeside picnic, though she would never admit even to herself that she was disappointed. He was very busy, she reminded herself. Cry For The Hills was in the last week of filming its third season. Surely, he was on set more hours than not, and he had a very busy schedule outside of filming. Only—only she jumped when her phone buzzed and would not have revealed her YouTube or Pinterest search histories for anything.

Then he texted, and they had lunch in a cozy café in the heart of historic Glasgow to celebrate the completion of season three. A few days later they saw a movie. Lily could hardly believe it was real, but she absolutely refused to overthink it. She could almost forget she'd ever fancied the famous James Potter; she liked him so much for himself.

One the one month anniversary of her arrival in Glasgow, Lily sat in her favorite coffee shop around the corner from her hotel, a cup of tea in one hand, and a book in the other. The heat wave had passed, and a pleasant, steady rain fell outside. It was just the kind of day Lily loved best: grey skies, soft air, and nothing to do but enjoy it. Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, and she smiled when she saw a text alert from James. He was leaving soon for New York to promote a movie he'd filmed the previous summer. Quickly, she opened her phone. It was a fairly long message, at least for James; that had to be a bad sign.

hi. I just wanted to let you know, this summer will be insanely busy for me. i've got a lot of commitments, things that were booked months ago, or longer. but it's really been amazing getting to know you, and i want to see you again. can I call you when i'm back in town? every time i'm back in town?

Perhaps not bad after all. Lily quickly typed her reply.

I'd like that, very much. Enjoy your trip!

It felt stiff and formal, not at all expressing the deep, quiet joy she'd felt on reading his message. But it was the best she could do, and she hit send before she could change her mind.

Lily now had ten days to put in before James returned. With nothing holding her in Glasgow, she began exploring the surrounding countryside, day trips mostly, with the occasional overnight if she found herself at dusk too far from Glasgow to return that night. She saw Fort William, Inverness, Stirling, Skye, Glencoe, Culloden Moor; all the famous names she remembered from history books. She hadn't studied history since leaving high school, and she found herself intrigued now with the places and monuments before her eyes. She began researching more deeply, which led to finding more places she wanted to explore.

James called her one drizzly evening as she was relaxing after her trip to Fort William.

"Hey! You're back!" She greeted him.

"I am back, and very glad of it." He sounded tired.

"How was your trip?" Lily snuggled deeper into her armchair, smiling happily.

"Busy. Long. But good. I did have a lot of fun."

"It looked like it. Nice interview on The Late Show, by the way. Very witty."

"Ta. So, you've been following me, have you?" He sounded pleased.

"Well sure, I have a strong interest in you career."

"Oh? What kind of interest."

"There's a twenty-pound wager riding on it," she said drily.

"Haha, very funny. Really though, you—you watched the interviews?"

"James, I've been following your career since you were cast as Owen Ward."

"Oh." A beat.

Lily could almost hear him thinking, working out the implications of that. She waited for him to speak. When he did, it was with an abrupt change of subject.

"Want to hang out with me and some of my mates tomorrow night? We're ordering an obscene amount of pizza and not stopping until it's gone."

"That sounds simultaneously terrifying and hilarious. I'm in."

"Great! It's about time they met you. I'd offer to pick you up, but I've got a meeting tomorrow, and it might run late, and I can't guarantee a time."

"No problem, just text me your address, and I'll meet you there when you're done."

"You'd do that? You're fantastic! I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow."

Accordingly, Lily stepped out of the cab at 6:30 the next evening. James had texted her his address, and then simply not stopped texting her. She woke up to a "good morning" message, and throughout the day he had kept her updated on how bored he was. His meeting was, in fact, a contract renewal negotiation, and he had trouble with the sitting still and the being quiet.

Shouldn't you be paying attention? She asked once she realized where he was.

Nah, my agent does that for me. She's very good.

But eventually it was over. Lily was notified by the message:

I'M FREE I'M FREE AT LONG LAST I'M FREE! see you in half an hour?

I'll be there.

Now though, on the sidewalk in front of James' building, she hesitated. Her mind spun as she followed James's directions through the gated archway to an interior courtyard. She'd only known him a little over a month. She wasn't ready to meet his friends. What did she think she was doing?!

"Lily!"

She looked up. James was leaning impossibly far over a balcony railing, waving madly.

"I'll be right down!" He disappeared, only to reappear at a door to Lily's right a minute later.

"Come on, I'll take you up. I can't wait for you to meet the lads."

"Somebody's excited! Did your meeting go well, or are you just that glad to be out of it?"

"I hate meetings." James spoke so decisively that she stared at him in surprise. For a brief moment, he looked like an obstinate two-year-old, insisting he did not like vegetables. Lily was hard put not to laugh.

Then he was himself again, gently tugging her arm as she followed him through the door, up three flights of stairs, and down a short hallway. They entered his flat, which was full of loud music, smoke, and the heavenly smell of pizza.

"Whew!" James waved a hand in front of his face at the distinct odor of cigarette smoke. "Oi! Pete! Noise level down a bit, would you? Sirius, you know the rules. Put that disgusting thing out."

"I'm hanging my head out the window like you asked, Mum."

"Then why can I smell it all the way at the door?" James shot back.

Sirius, vaguely familiar to Lily from his appearances with James, was slightly taller than his friend, and similar in build, lightly muscled where James was lean. His features were naturally aristocratic; well suited to the languid hauteur he exuded. He carefully appraised Lily before jerking his chin at her and returning to his cigarette, which was positioned nowhere near a window.

"That's his version of hello," James explained apologetically. "Pete, the volume!"

The music cut out abruptly with a, "Sorry, James!" from the mousy looking lad in the corner.

"Right," James began. "That's Sirius, and that's Peter, that leaves—where Remus?"

"Here!" a voice called from the kitchen. "Food's set." A tired looking young man with sandy hair and friendly eyes appeared in the doorway Lily assumed led to the kitchen. He smiled and moved forward to shake Lily's hand. "Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm Remus."

"Nice to meet you too."

"That's how you greet a guest," James glared at the other two.

"We keep Remus around to have manners for us." Sirius drawled from the corner. "Besides, if she's intruding on pizza night, she's not a guest." He eyed Lily shrewdly. "Can you handle it, mystery girl? Being one of the gang?"

"For crying out loud, Sirius," James stomped across the room, snatched the cigarette and put it out. "Make an effort, just once."

Lily didn't miss the look that passed between them, though the exchange lasted only a second. She could have sworn Sirius's hackles were raised, but James stared him down evenly, and Sirius subsided into civility for the rest of the night.

Pizza night, it was revealed, was a tradition for these friends dating back to their years at boarding school, and continued on a monthly basis, no exceptions.

"We had to scale back from weekly pizza, because James was complaining about all the extra training he had to do." Peter explained once all were served and seated. "We figured it was easier to miss pizza than listen to James moan all the time."

"He really can harp on a subject once he gets going," Remus agreed.

"But you all love me despite my flaws, don't you?" James beamed around a mouthful of pepperoni and olive pizza. "And you humour my attempts at a healthy lifestyle by ordering salad. I thank you!"

"This is the first time that salad has ever been eaten," Sirius added.

"You're welcome," Lily smiled complacently.

These lads weren't so bad, once she'd taken their measure. Sirius clearly viewed her as a hostile, a threat to his James, but she'd dealt with his kind before. Show no fear, and eventually they'll get used to you. Peter was small and asthmatic, with an unfortunate tendency to breathe through his mouth, but she liked him. Clearly, he relied on the others a lot, but she sensed that given the right motivation, he could be capable of anything. And all of them, James, Sirius, and Peter, were unconsciously careful of Remus. James had scolded him for carrying all the food up the stairs, and Sirius gave up his seat when Remus was about to sit on the floor.

When no more pizza could be consumed, Sirius and Peter resumed a video game they had been playing before Lily's arrival. Remus offered to go clean up the kitchen, but James stopped him.

"Sit, stay, I've got it. You all good, Lily? Or can I get you anything?"

Lily lifted her full glass of soda. "Thanks James, I'm fine. You want a hand with clean up?"

"Nah, you relax. Keep Remus company. Back in a jiff."

Remus smiled at Lily. "He's a sweet lad, really. A bit cracked, but sweet."

She laughed. "I'd noticed that. It's—interesting—to see him in his natural habitat." She paused. "May I ask why he wouldn't let you clean up? Really, why they've all been so careful about you?"

Remus shrugged and stared out across the room. "It's not as bad as they make it out to be, really. I've had some health challenges over the years, recurring ones. And it seems every time we think I'm past it and can take a deep breath, it starts all over again. So, they've decided that a policy of watchful waiting is the best way to keep me on this side of the hospital doors."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad they're there for you." She spoke sincerely; she knew the value of true friends.

"What about you?" Remus asked. "You're not Scottish; what brings you north?"

"Well, I guess I'm on extended holiday. For the past few years, I've been part-owner of a little shop, lived at home, saved my money, didn't really do anything exciting. And I decided I didn't want to do that forever."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Aye, there's the rub. I actually haven't the faintest idea."

"But you'll have to figure it out sometime," his tone spoke volumes in understanding and sympathy.

She nodded slowly. "Eventually. I'm not keen on returning to Cambridge; it would be too much like giving in."

"What about travel?"

"I've done that," she spoke thoughtfully. "Very good thing, travel, and I'd love to do more, but I get the feeling it's not what I need right now. I guess that's why I chose Scotland. It's new and exciting, but close enough to home that I don't have that travel euphoria."

"You don't want to travel, and you don't want to go home. So, you're staying put for the time being?" Lily sensed an undertone, despite his casual questions. She looked searchingly, but Remus's face was a bland mask of politeness.

Lily glanced across the room at James, who had perched on the back of the couch with an armload of plates and glasses to tell Sirius a story. His hair was messier than ever, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. He caught her eye, grinned, and winked at her before returning to his tale.

Lily blushed, and smiled, before turning back to Remus. "For now."

_

In the last few weeks, Lily had spent more evenings at James's place than her own. Granted, James had a real, grown-up apartment, while she had a tiny room in a guest house, so it made sense, but the point still stood. Around his work schedule, they were together as much as possible. When he had days free they went looking for adventures. When he didn't, they spent the evenings together, sometimes out, mostly in. Sirius, Remus, and Peter dropped by sometimes, though not always together, and to their credit they never appeared surprised to see Lily, or questioned her sudden, constant presence.

One such evening, when the wind crying around the corner of the building whispered of autumn, Lily and James lounged comfortably on James's couch after a Star Wars marathon to celebrate the fact that James' schedule was completely clear for the next two weeks. John Williams' triumphant trumpet fanfare echoed quietly as credits scrolled lazily up the darkened screen.

"Ever notice how all his music sounds the same after a while?" James inquired lazily.

Lily barely turned her head. "Who? John Williams?"

"Like, it's great stuff, but every time I hear the Indiana Jones theme, I think Star Wars, and vice versa."

"What?!" Lily pushed herself upright against the cushions.

"Seriously. I have Raider's March playing in my head this second."

"That's ridiculous! We just watched three Star Wars movies. The credits are still rolling. How can you have another movie's soundtrack playing in your head?"

James laughed. "I dunno. Blame John Williams."

"Unbelievable," she pronounced, flopping back against the cushions next to James. After a pause she twisted her neck to look at him. "Drat you! Now all I can hear is the Raider's March!"

"Told you. Blame John Williams."

"You owe me big time; that song is a major ear worm."

James flopped over to face her. A witty retort died on his lips as he stared into wide, green eyes barely a foot away from his own. Without hesitating, he leaned forward and placed a kiss squarely on her lips, letting it linger a moment before retreating.

Her brilliant eyes widened even more, delicate eyebrows arching. "Oh," she said softly.

"Oh indeed," James muttered. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the gap between them, kissing her just as sweetly, but with a greater sense of purpose. The hand that wasn't trapped between him and the couch came up to tangle in her hair, gripping the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

She responded to his touch with surprising warmth, shifting closer, her hand settling on his thigh. That slight pressure was maddening. James deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her lower lip. Disentangling his other hand from the couch cushions, he slid it under her shoulder and around her back, holding her firmly. She tasted like spearmint from the gum she liked to chew, and from the tea she had drunk during the movie.

She was so soft. Her lips, soft and moist. Her cheek like smooth velvet under his palm, her hair, silky and fine, woven between his fingers, catching on any callus or rough spot. Even the way she touched him was soft and gentle. Lily had one hand on his chest now, fingertips hovering uncertainly, the other on his hip with her thumb hooked through the belt loop on his jeans.

He reached down and pressed her hand to his chest firmly, holding it where she had to feel his heart beating frantically. Slowly, with impossible grace, they fell backwards into the tempting embrace of the couch cushions. James's hand moved to her hip, slid up and over to settle firmly at her waist.

Her fingertips trailed lightly up to his shoulder, then down the length of his body, leaving him shivering, but with heat, not cold. He slid his hand from her waist, up her ribcage, his thumb brushing feather light over the curve of her breast.

Lily gasped and broke the kiss. "Wait, stop."

"What? Why?"

"You're kissing me."

Why did she sound worried? "You're kissing back."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why are you kissing me?"

"Because life is short and you're hot." He smiled, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"Now is not the time to quote Doctor Who!" she cried, exasperated.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"James," she began evenly. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Well, why do you think?"

"I don't know!"

"Then why did you kiss me back?"

The silence between them said more than it didn't. James watched the play of emotion of Lily's face, saw her fighting to comprehend what he already knew.

"I like you." He filled in the blank.

"I like you too. I mean, we have a lot of fun together, and we hang out a lot, and—"

"No," he interrupted. "I mean, I really like you. I—I want to be with you."

"Oh…" Understanding dawned, hope and dismay mingled in her eyes.

"That's not good," James sighed.

"No," she said hastily. "It's not—I mean, I like you too…"

"That's good." Hope rose triumphant in his heart once more, only to be crushed a second later.

"But—"

James sighed again. "That's bad."

"Could you please not make this difficult? I have to think," Lily begged.

"About what? We like each other; we want to be together. That rather settles it, doesn't it?"

"James, it's just not that simple."

"I don't see why not." It was all so clear to James. Why was she fighting so hard to get in their way?

"I don't know if I can be with you—like that."

Oh. Oh! James stared. "Oh my gosh, Lily, are you a—"

She shot him a filthy look. "Of course not, you idiot."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He held his hands up in surrender.

She softened a touch. "It doesn't matter. But, there are other things to consider."

"Such as…" he prompted. Why couldn't she just get to the point?

"Well," she began, fidgeting uncomfortably. "For starters, I'm not ready to be a celebrity's girlfriend."

"Then don't. Be mine."

"Please be serious, James."

"I am, Lily."

"No, you're not. You can't separate yourself from your fame; it's just not possible. And I'm not ready for such a high-profile relationship. It wouldn't be a good thing for either of us."

"How do you mean?"

"I like my privacy, and there would be no chance of keeping a relationship private or out of the press. And you need someone who can fit into your lifestyle, the galas and red carpets and swanky parties and—"

"I don't care about any of that," he protested.

"Except you do." She still spoke quietly as she leveled the truth at him point blank.

He paused for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do. It's fun. But surely that's something we can work around?"

"Maybe we could, if it were the only obstacle."

"But it's not." He knew it wasn't, he could see the anxiety mounting in her hunched shoulders and panic-stricken face.

"James, I don't even live here!" she burst out.

"You could move here," he suggested. He'd been thinking that for a while now anyway. He didn't want her to go back to Cambridge or anywhere else. He wanted her here, with him, for real, not just on holiday.

"You're not helping, James."

"How is finding solutions to problems not helping?"

Lily looked down at her hands, fingers laced so tightly the knuckles showed white. "Because you don't actually believe that there's a problem here to solve."

"You're right, I don't. You aren't making any sense."

"What if it all goes wrong?" she cried.

He reached for her, but she shrugged his hand off. "But, Lil, what if it doesn't?"

"I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Her words slammed into his gut, making him want to wretch. Something in her tone, the stiff way she held herself, nagged at the back of James' mind. This wasn't the Lily he knew, fearless, bold, never holding back. "There's something else, isn't there?"

She remained silent, blushing hotly. She wouldn't look at him.

He leaned back, confusion slowly being replaced by heart numbing dread. "Oh. I think I see where this is going. It's—my work, isn't it?"

"Can you blame me?" Lily sniffed back tears, blinking rapidly. "How could I live every day knowing a million women are out there drooling over your body on television? The show isn't exactly PG rated." She tried to hide her revulsion at the thought, but couldn't quite.

So that was it, James thought bleakly. There had been—scenes—but nothing explicit, more just—suggested. But still, there was quite a bit of kissing, and those vague scenes did have to be acted out… He'd ruined it. Before he had even met Lily, James had doomed any chance they had.

Silence echoed through the room; Lily's words hanging between them like a lead balloon, weighty, massive, deadly.

James couldn't blame her; no woman should have to watch her man kiss other women on television, let alone, well...

"I should go," she whispered, getting up and moving toward the door.

"Wait, stop! Please…" James called, scrambling off the sofa and following her. "Please, don't close the door on us like that. Just—say you'll think about it. Don't go without saying you'll give us a chance."

Lily reached out silently, putting a trembling hand on his arm. He didn't understand how she could hurt him so badly and still send fire through him with a simple touch seconds later, but she could. And that hurt worse than anything.

"I'll call you," was all she said.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. "Okay. Good night, Lily."

"Goodbye, James."

She opened the door and moved into the hallway, looking back one last time, then the door closed behind her. James sagged against it, giving in at last to the tears. His shoulders shook noiselessly for long minutes, then, slowly, stilled, as resignation took the place of the initial, wrenching pain.

Moving back through his apartment, James gave each light switch he passed a vicious flick, until he was left alone in the darkness. The tv glowed faintly in the corner, but he couldn't find the remote. Crossing the open space, he pushed the power button, and stood a while in the silent vacuum left by the sudden absence of humming static. Then he sighed and made his way to the bedroom, throwing himself on the bed without bothering to undress, and waited for sleep to come.

As soon as the door snicked shut behind her, Lily was bent nearly double, gasping for breath, fist pressed to her mouth to silence the heaving sobs she couldn't force back. The look in James's eyes would haunt her until she died, that gut wrenching mix of hurt, betrayal, and sadness. How could she have done this? Darkness danced on the edges of her vision as her head spun.

She reached out, seeking any support, but her hand closed on empty air. Groping blindly, she found the wall, cool and solid beside her, and sank down, huddled miserably in the hallway with her head resting on her knees until the dizziness ebbed. She cried—hot, choking tears. She couldn't get enough air. The dizziness eventually subsided, but left in its place was the sick, cold certainty that she had just made the worst mistake of her life. That knowledge settled in the pit of her stomach and spread through her limbs, weighing her down until she felt chained to the floor outside James's door.

Outside his door. She had to move. He couldn't find her here. She had to go home. Wiping away tears, Lily staggered to her feet and down the hall, her mind searching for answers—to what? Solutions—for what? She couldn't think, she couldn't reason, she couldn't even have identified the real problem. It hurt too much; it was too fresh.

She never knew how she got back to the guest house. She couldn't remember hailing a taxi, or the ride there, or paying the driver, but she must have done it because when the haze cleared around her, she was on her bed, curled tightly in the fetal position. Her face was stiff with dried tear streaks, and her tongue felt swollen and fuzzy. Her chest ached. Everything ached. And James was gone.

Shuffling to the bathroom, she stared dully at her reflection, at vivid red blotches on milk white skin, sunken eyes, and matted, tangled hair. Mechanically, Lily brushed her teeth and washed her face, feeling a bit better. Slowly, gently, she worked a brush through her hair until it was smooth and gleaming once more, then she just kept brushing. It was soothing. Not the same as having someone brush it for her, but comforting nonetheless.

She could be with James this minute. She could be happy instead of miserable. Why had she stopped him kissing her to bring up reality and problems? How could she have done otherwise? But, oh, God, the pain of this reality. She had heard all her life that it was always right to make the right decision carefully, even if it hurt. But this wasn't better, it couldn't be!

She hadn't wanted to pull away from him, she'd just wanted to figure everything out. His first kiss had thoroughly dismantled the world as she knew it and she wanted to at least try to put it back together in a way that made sense. And James—he just kept firing off short answers like he didn't care. Why couldn't he take it seriously? She could not have a boyfriend who—and there it was.

He wasn't her boyfriend. He was James Potter and she had a whole list of reasons why he should not be her boyfriend. Real reasons. Reasons that hurt her in some inexplicable way. Reasons she didn't want to have to face but could no longer be avoided. But he made light of those too, and she had gotten upset because everything was falling apart and there was a growing fear in the pit of her stomach because what if James actually was what she'd thought he was before she got to know him and—

And then he had understood, had figured out the horrible, awful, secret reason she knew they couldn't be together. The one thing she had tried so hard to hide, from herself as well as from him. Even after that, he had begged her not to go, to give them a chance to make it work, and she had walked out, closing the door forever on whatever might have been. What had she done?

Her hand stilled, the brush clattering into the sink. "James," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Lily felt tears and panic rising once more, and clamped down on those feelings firmly. "No," she told herself, speaking out loud to give the words extra weight. "Stop it. Stop it right now." Her voice cracked on the last words. Bracing her palms on the countertop, she took three deep breaths; in through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly, slowly, that's it.

She gathered her things and returned to her room, suddenly more exhausted than she could ever remember being. Slipping into her pajamas, she curled up under the blankets, but sleep would not come. She couldn't help playing that evening over and over again, wishing she had done things differently, wishing she could take back her bitter words. She regretted them, and Lily was not a woman prone to regrets.

She had to fix this; make it right. She must tell him. Would he believe her? He had to. Did he love her? He wanted her, that much she knew. Well, he had. Whether he still would was another question altogether. Lily shoved that thought aside to focus on the matter at hand. She, Lily Evans, was going to do what James had wanted to do all along: find answers instead of asking more questions.

_

"What d'you think Lily meant when she said the bartender was her Linus?" James mused.

Four young men lay sprawled on various surfaces in James' living room, thoroughly enjoying their post-pizza coma.

Sirius growled at James' question. "Who bloody cares? For the love of Pete, James—"

"Hey!" Peter squeaked drowsily.

Sirius continued without pause. "It's only been a day since you made an arse of yourself kissing the bird and you literally have not shut up about it since."

"Misuse of the word literally," interjected Remus, who didn't look up from his phone.

"No, it's not," Sirius shot back. "You haven't had to endure him all day like I have. I deserve a medal for putting up with his incessant whinging." He dug both hands into his luxurious dark locks and shook his head violently, as though he could purge the past twenty-four hours from his memory.

"Can I help it if I'm worried?" James cried. "You don't understand, none of you could. It's different with her; she's not like the rest."

"Ah, yes, do educate us in the numerous ways this bird is different from all the rest. Oh wait, that's all you've talked about for weeks now."

"Shut up."

"That's what I've been saying, but you never listen to me."

"Lily is special."

"How? How is she special, James? Because from everything you've said for the last 83 days—yes, I've counted; no, not because I enjoyed them—Lily is just another basic white girl looking for her perfect, Instagram-able fairy tale." Sirius clasped his hands to his chest, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and spoke in a ridiculous falsetto. "I had the perfect life with everything I wanted but still I wasn't happy. I wanted more out of life!"

"Enough, Sirius," James warned, his voice low. A more astute person would have recognized the "danger ahead" signs in it, but Sirius was enjoying his own performance a bit too much.

"Scotland is so romantic," he cooed. "I say I didn't want to fall in love but really I just want a prince to sweep me off my feet and end my poor, sad troubles."

"I said that's enough!" James roared, each word clipped and biting.

Sirius looked at him, oblivious enough to be surprised. "James, what—"

"I have had enough of your sodding dramatics. Alright, maybe I have gone on a bit about Lily, but she's all I think about."

"Because you want to bang her," Sirius snorted.

"Because I love her."

James' quiet statement hung in the air, while Sirius, Remus, and Peter looked nervously at each other.

"You know, he hasn't forced us through a recital of all the details we never wanted to know about his relationship. That is a first," Peter began hesitantly. "Maybe being in love makes the difference?"

"Nah, it's never stopped him before."

James made a rude gesture in Sirius' direction.

"Really mature, James," Remus chided, lifting his eyebrows. "Peter may have a point. James won't shut up about Lily, true, but so far the commentary has been—kind. Not like his usual."

"Oi!" James protested.

"True…" Sirius drew the word out, pretending to ponder the subject. "Remember the model two years ago? Every time she turned her back, he was making fun of her thick ankles."

"They were like an elephant's!"

"And don't forget his scathing mistreatment of that actress last year when he made the mistake of dating a co-worker."

"Oh, that bordered on verbal abuse!"

"She had a mustache, and I am right here!"

"But with Lily—nothing. Only glowing praises."

"You all suck," James sulked, subsiding into dignified outrage in the corner of the couch.

Silence settled on the room like heavy fog, drifting into corners and pooling in the shadows.

"So you really think you're in love with her?" Peter finally asked, cautious in the wake of James' recent outburst.

James let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his hand over his face. "No. I don't think I'm in love with her. I love her. It's different. Sirius, you'd understand what that is if you'd ever stop shagging random girls long enough to develop feelings for someone."

"Ugh, feelings," Sirius muttered. Then he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "I'm sorry you feel that way, James, because I still don't buy Lily's line. She's using you."

"If she's using me, why was she the one to run when things got serious?"

Dark brows rose over grey eyes. "Is that what happened? You just kept repeating that you messed up, and that you'd done something bad. I figured you meant her."

James glared at his best friend. "No, that's not what I meant. Really, get your mind out of the gutter."

"To let yours to float by?" Sirius drawled, then dodged the throw pillow aimed at his face.

"I wanted to—to date her, properly. Like, to be together, and a couple, and stuff. But she got all upset and started naming all these reasons we shouldn't do that. Then she left."

Sirius nodded slowly. "I concede, that changes things. So what are you going to do about it?"

James looked around at his friends, his eyes wild. "That's just it, I can't do anything. Because she said she'd call me, but she hasn't, and any attempt to contact her is going to look needy and desperate."

"To be fair," Peter put in. "You are needy and desperate."

"Thanks, Pete, I'd rather she didn't know that."

"Maybe it won't be needy and desperate, James." Sirius returned to the conversation. "Maybe it'll be a grand romantic gesture."

"Don't listen to him," Remus warned, at the same time that James cried, "Are you trying to sabotage me?"

Sirius only shrugged. "What? It's good enough for the girls I go out with."

"Right, that's it." James stood, waving his hands wildly. "All of you out."

"Why?"

"What for?"

"Nice try, I live here," Sirius snorted.

"No, you don't." James gripped Sirius' shirt and pulled until Sirius either had to come with it, or risk tearing his favorite Metallica tee. "you just stay over so often you've forgotten about your own lovely flat directly across the street. You should check on it occasionally. Now would be good."

It took some doing, but James finally succeeded in evicting his friends.

"James," Remus began patiently as he turned to leave. Sometimes James hated how eternally patient Remus could be. He sounded like a bloody school teacher. "If you really want to know what she meant by that Linus reference, just google it."

James froze. "Oh." He hadn't thought of that; he'd been too busy enjoying his wallowing. The realization brought him up short. "Oh," he said again.

"Well said," Sirius drawled, tone dripping sarcasm. "Use that speech when you accept your next award, yeah?"

Sometimes, even Remus' patience was preferable to Sirius' sarcasm.

"I'm an idiot!" James exclaimed.

"You think that's news?"

James merely glared and shut the door in Sirius' face.

As soon as his friends were gone, James wished he hadn't been so hasty in making them go. The flat was just too big and empty without them. He wandered from room to room, picking things up, putting them down. Finally, he collapsed into the couch. Hugging a pillow to his chest, he caught a whiff of Lily's perfume and remembered sitting in that very spot not twenty-four hours ago with Lily beside him. His heart squeezed painfully, drawing his ribs along with it.

He tried to think about what Remus had said, about work, about anything but Lily, but he couldn't control his train of thought. It insisted on barreling down the track and around sharp corners at dangerous speeds without his permission. He googled the Linus reference, but learned only that it was from a show he'd definitely heard of but never watched. He tossed his phone aside in disgust. Just when he thought he would go absolutely mad, which took about two minutes with James, there was a soft rapping at the door. His heart leaped as he raced to answer it.

"Lily—oh, hey, Pete."

"Hi, James. Look," Peter shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry we made fun. You really like her, don't you?"

It was on the tip of James' tongue to declare that he would love Lily Evans until the day he died and beyond, but vague and unsettling memories of similar declarations about other girls he'd dated bubbled up in his memory. "Yeah," he said at last, simply and quietly. "I really do."

"You find out anything about that reference?"

James shrugged. "Just the show it's from, she must really like it."

"You want to watch it?"

James stared. "What, the whole thing?"

Now Peter shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe just til we find that Linus thing."

James shrugged again. It seemed to him that there was an awful lot of indecision happening at his front door right now, but the fire that had burned so hotly minutes ago had burned out, nothing left but ash choking his throat and coating the walls of his stomach. "Dunno. If you want to."

"Then," Peter squared his rounded shoulders and strode past James. "We watch it."

James stared after his friend, dumbfounded at this new, take-charge attitude.

"You coming?" Peter yelled from the living room.

James yanked his wandering mind back to reality. "Uh, yeah, be right there." He closed the door and turned the bolt, then slumped against it for a second. Taking a deep breath, he turned and shuffled forward. "But we're going to need more pizza."

They did indeed require more pizza, along with other forms of sustenance. And energy drinks. Even for two so accustomed to binge watching as James and Peter, this was intense. James honestly wasn't sure what he expected from the show, and was surprised to be so drawn into the complicated lives and loves of the five characters.

When Remus showed up on day three—having grown concerned by the lack of communication from James and Peter—he found his friends ankle-deep in take-out containers and yelling at the tv screen.

"How could you do it, Robin? How?! He's your ex's best friend."

"Second best," Peter corrected. "Marshall is Ted's best friend."

"That's not important right now," James moaned. "She just ruined everything."

"I'm assuming Robin just slept with Barney?" Remus inquired, stepping gingerly over a teetering stack of pizza boxes and surveying the carnage. "Good grief, have you two moved at all?"

"What're you doing here?" James asked, surprised. "And how do you know what's going on?"

"James, it's been days. Have you even checked in with your agent at all?"

James shrugged. "Minerva knows how to reach me. How did you know Robin and Barney hooked up?" he demanded.

"Because I've seen it. Seriously, you two need to get some fresh air; at least crack a window or something. It's gross in here."

James looked at Peter, then back at Remus. "You've seen it?" He cried in outrage. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Only the first few seasons, and you never actually asked," Remus reminded him. "You just mused and fretted and expected the universe to give you the answers."

James scowled. "You know, I don't like it when you take it upon yourself to teach me lessons."

Remus grinned and sat down next to Peter. "And yet you're too stubborn to learn any other way."

"Whatever. Want to watch with us?"

"You aren't stopping until you're done, are you?"

"I will find that reference or die in the process," James ground out between clenched teeth. Without waiting for Remus's answer, he resumed play on the screen.

After a minute, the concerned, thoughtful expression on Remus' face cleared, and he reached for the bag of Cheetos before relaxing into his seat.

Four men sat in stupefied silence a week later, staring at the finally dark screen. The credits had rolled for the last time.

"I—I can't believe—that just wasn't right!" Peter gasped.

"How could they do it to us—how?" echoed Sirius, who had caved to peer pressure and joined them barely a day after Remus.

"I can't believe we survived." Stretching, Remus stood. "Right, I think—I'm going to go home—and probably not talk to you for a couple days."

They all nodded in understanding, and without another word, Remus left. Sirius and Peter followed quickly, bidding James good-bye and promising to check in on him in a few days.

When he was alone, James shook his head to clear it. Season nine, he thought. One bloody reference and it was in the last bloody season. Slowly, joints creaking, he stood and looked around. Thanks to Remus' supervision, the mess wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, but there was still ten day's worth of binge-watch-detritus hanging about. It was unavoidable, really. It could also wait, he decided. A shower was of greater necessity at the moment.

The hot spray pounded his head and shoulders and he soaped and rinsed several times. He still wasn't sure what had actually happened in large portions of the show—he'd been too busy obsessing over Lily. His Lily. Evans. Not Aldrin. She hadn't called, or even texted, in the ten days since—since that night. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Did she hate him? Where was she?

What would Ted have done in his place? Probably committed some grand, stupid, romantic crime against decency by now. He certainly wouldn't have let the girl he loved go without a fight.

James stopped still. The girl he loved. Ted had fought for Robin so often, sure she was the one, and in the end—well, that didn't really matter. The point was he hadn't known when to let go and that had caused him all kinds of trouble. What did Ted know? Only what the writers said he knew. James knew better. Hell, his own character on tv knew better. Ted was an idiot. But he had one thing going for him. Ted never missed a chance to air his feelings. That was something else Lily had said the night they met, she liked keeping her cards on the table. No hidden agendas. He'd liked that about her, still did.

James shut off the water and reached for a towel. He was going to see Lily.

Despite best intentions, it was over an hour before James stepped out of the cab into the steady rain in front of Lily's guest house. Taking the steps three at a time, he rang the doorbell vigorously, wishing there was a roof of some kind. He hated getting wet in the rain.

Finally, the door opened, a stranger stared at him in shock.

"Yes, hi, I'm James. Is Lily here?"

"Sorry, who are you looking for?" the girl asked, still staring blankly at him.

"Lily, she's been staying here this summer, medium height, green eyes, red hair?"

"Oh! Her! No, she's not here."

"Where did she go?"

The stranger shrugged. "Dunno."

"Does anyone else here know where she may have gone?"

The girl shook her head. "Sorry."

"Is she coming back?"

"Last I saw her was about a week ago, she headed out with some suitcases. Anything more, you'll have to ask her."

James' shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Thanks anyway."

The girl nodded and closed the door.

James slowly retraced his steps, until he reached the sidewalk. The street was depressingly devoid of taxis. Trudging in the direction of the nearest main road where he could hail a ride, he contemplated his next move. As he walked, disappointment gave way to frustration, then anger bubbled up, choking and blinding him.

She couldn't just leave. She didn't get to call all the shots like that. James wasn't going to let her.

He pulled out his phone.

He opened a new message.

He began typing.

When he was done typing, he hit send before he could rethink any of what he'd said. He didn't want to take it back. He meant every word.

Maybe.

He re-read the rather long text.

Oh no.

lily, I don't know why you left or why you kissed me that night or why you haven't called but i'm done waiting. I tried to give you space but it's been long enough. I went to see you and now you're gone. how could you do that lily?! how?! I thought we were going to talk about this. about us. anyway I guess that's your answer. leaving. not cool but if that's how you feel there's nothing more to say.

James didn't mean that at all. He wondered frantically if deleting the text from his phone would delete it from hers too. Was that possible? There had to be some measure in place to protect poor idiots like him from themselves. Why didn't the phone companies think about these things?

He had reached the main road, and was contemplating the merits of sitting in a coffee shop for a few hours. He didn't want to be alone, and home was—a little too familiar at the moment. Out was good. Out was—alive. Even if it was painful. The anger had passed, quenched by the rain that soaked through his coat. He typed another text, explaining, apologizing, hearing even as he did so Remus' voice of reason. "You've already made an ass of yourself, James; don't make it worse."

His thumb hovered over the send button. It lowered slowly. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, three things happened. First, James tripped on the exposed edge of a loose cobble and stumbled forward several steps. Second, a taxi roared through the puddles collecting on the sides of the road, drenching James from head to foot. Third, Lily saw his text. The "read" notification appeared.

It was his worst nightmare come true, at least, it was the essence of his worst nightmare. He doubted there was a real-life scenario that involved him about to present a Golden Globe award to himself only to find he was wearing—anyway. The humiliation was the same.

Then the three heart-stopping dots began bouncing cheerfully up and down below his text; she was replying. Probably to tell him he was right, there was nothing more to say, she couldn't be in a relationship with someone who didn't have the sense to pre-read a text before sending.

He waited what felt like an eternity, watching those dots come and go. Dear God, this was torture. Medieval kings could learn from this.

When the text did send, he almost missed it. It was short.

Idiot.

Yes, James thought irritably. That's been established.

"James?"

He spun around, flinging drops of water in all directions. There she was, Lily Evans, not gone at all, here, in Glasgow, on this sidewalk.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um, I live here."

"On the street corner?"

"Yeah, it's—research. New role."

She smothered a giggle behind her hand. "What was your text all about?"

"I went to see you, and the girl said you'd gone. She saw you leaving with suitcases. And—and I thought—when you said you'd call—and you didn't—" his voice broke. It hurt, like a broken rib. Sharp, throbbing, but only when he breathed or moved. If he held very still in a very uncomfortable position, he hardly noticed it.

"I did call, James," she said softly. He could barely hear her over the whoosh of cars in the street and the steady drum of rain on his own head.

"I never got that call."

"I know." She blushed. "Remus picked up. He—he said you were doing okay, so I should take my time."

"I will murder him."

A pause.

"We should—talk." She said at last.

Waves of confusion, exhaustion, anger, and sadness swamped James one after the other. He couldn't tell them apart, and he was tired. Tired of not knowing which way was up, tired of being knocked down or bowled over every time he finally got himself back on his feet.

"Yeah," he said, his voice brittle. "Probably."

Lily glanced over her shoulder at the bright, warm interior of the coffee shop. "Should we-?"

"No." James shook his head. "Here. Right here, right now."

"James, it's pouring. You're soaked."

"I don't care."

"Are you sure?"

He clenched his jaw on the smart remark his brain was dying to throw at her. She was so lovely, even in the dark, in the pouring rain, with the glow of a streetlight burnishing to gold the strands of copper hair escaping the hood of her rain coat. He didn't want to yell and make smart remarks, he wanted to hold her. He wanted to take her face between his hands and kiss her. He wanted to get out of the rain. He huffed irritably.

"Oh, come on, don't get shy on me now, Evans. Where's the Lily I met in the bar, who told me not to assume she was a nice girl? Who went for a date to help me win a bet? Hell, she kissed me on a dare!"

Lily blushed faintly in the orange light. "She only appears after a couple gin sours. I'm really rather embarrassed by her."

"Don't be. She's awesome. She also played her hand pretty straight up, called me on my bullshit. That was—hot, to be honest. Yeah."

"You want honest?" she cried, stepping forward. "I'm terrified. Even after knowing you for months, I still can't believe you would actually want me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're—you. And I'm—not."

"You aren't me. Well spotted," he scoffed. "Not sure how I missed that."

"You know what I mean. You attend red carpets and galas and have brunch with David Tennant—"

"That was one time!"

"You have celebrities for friends," she continued without pause. "And probably spend more on hair products than I do on rent."

"Okay, first, my hair is one hundred percent natural. And second, I have plenty of non-celebrity friends. It just looks like we all hang out because every time we do some bloody paparazzo is around to catch it."

"Stop trying to make me feel better, James." She sounded as tired as James felt. "I know you have famous friends, you don't have to apologize for that."

"Famous Friends. Sounds like a cool show. Think we could get that on the air?"

"James!"

"Sorry, I'll be serious."

"I'd really rather prefer James."

James barked out a laugh; even Lily was smiling a little. It wasn't much, but they were making progress. Maybe, just maybe, there was still hope. She was here, after all.

"In all seriousness, Lily," James took her hands in his. "With everything you know about me, with all the time we've spent together, do you really believe I choose my friends on popularity ratings?"

She looked at the ground. "No," she whispered.

"No," he repeated firmly. "If I did, I would be missing out on a number of people I consider myself privileged to know. You, for one." He cleared his throat. "Lily Evans, you are gorgeous. And smart, and talented, and amazing, and I could go on, but I won't because you know all that. I've never met somebody before who is so perfectly willing to think well of herself yet is unable to believe that anyone else can see it too." He lifted one hand to brush raindrops from her cheek.

"I can't convince you that I love you," he continued. "And I can't convince you to love me. So I'm not going to try, although believe me I want to. But—I'm here, Lily, and I'm not going anywhere. It's up to you what you want to do with it."

He stepped back, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned slowly, wanting to give her a moment. To think, to process. He closed his eyes, fighting back the aching pain that grew with every step away from her.

"I thought you said you weren't going anywhere." He voice was small, cracked and breaking, but it was the sweetest sounds James Potter had ever heard.

He spun back to face her. "Well, yeah, but, I meant—I wasn't going to, you know, hover—but—"

She took a step toward him, pushing damp locks of hair from her face. There was a saucy tilt to her chin, a new light in her eyes. "If it's up to me, I want you to stay."

"You do?"

She nodded. "I can't tell you I love you, because I don't know yet. But I know I don't want to lose you. And—" her voice dropped to a choked whisper. "I think—I'm sure—that I could—"

James cut her off with a kiss as he swept her off her feet and twirled madly in circles. When he finally came to rest, he didn't let her go but held her, just letting her toes just touch the ground.

"What changed your mind?" he asked. "You had some pretty valid protests a week ago.

"I realized I couldn't resent your work, because without it, we never would have met. And it would be so awfully unfair of me to blame you for something that isn't your fault." She shook her head ruefully. "I'm not comfortable with it, but—I want to give us a shot, see if that's something we can find an answer for."

"And the suitcases?"

She laughed. "I did go home for a few days, but those suitcases were empty and came back full. I need a few more clothes if I'm here for more than the summer."

"Oh!" James looked up, startled.

"What?"

"I know who Linus is!"

"Who?"

"Linus! The bartender."

"What bartender? James, you make no sense!"

"From How I Met Your Mother. You said the bartender was your Linus, and so I watched the show to find the reference—"

"That's in season nine."

"I'm aware."

Her eyes widened. "Did you seriously watch the whole—that's what Remus meant."

"Eh?"

"When I called. He said something about a season a day and that if his calculations were correct, I should try to come back today, but not sooner. I didn't understand, but he insisted."

James grimaced. "I will seriously kill him. He planned the whole thing."

"I think there's more to Remus than meets the eye."

He huffed. "I've known him most of my life, and I'm still underestimating him." Then he shrugged. "But, it got us here, so maybe a stay of execution is in order."

Lily reached up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on James' nose. "I think so." She grinned. "By the way, Potter, you still owe me twenty quid."