Friday 4th August 1978

James screwed up another sheet of parchment, throwing it over his shoulder where it joined a month's worth of unsent letters to Lily. He'd chickened out of sending every time he'd written something he actually meant. It looked too real written down, awkward and wrong against the parchment in ways that the two of them talking only was when he stuck his foot in his mouth. But earlier that morning, seven out of eight of their usual group assembled for casual Quidditch over a field near his house, James had been forced to face the facts. Not only was he avoiding Lily ("I'm getting over it," he'd told Sirius, and refused to speak of it again), but clearly she'd caught on and was avoiding him right back. It was time to suck it up and act like an adult.

If he hadn't come to this conclusion by himself, Marlene's distinctly frosty attitude had gotten the point across pretty well. It had been a month, and space wasn't fixing anything. James felt like he was back in the exact same spot as last year: kick his stupidly persistent crush on Lily Evans to one side or be left alone. Except now there was so, so much more to lose.

This plan had lasted into the early afternoon. He would send Lily a letter, apologising profusely, promise it wouldn't happen again, have everything smoothed over before they could turn the housewarming next week into an awkward Lily-and-James-from-fifth-year kind of deal. He could have written a small essay on that alone in twenty minutes and posted it before he had time to overthink everything.

Except.

He felt like he owed Lily the truth. That was the problem, at the end of they day. They were dancing around James' feelings, James kept doing things that made it weird, James was the one fucking it up. If he came out and told her how he felt – and made it clear he didn't expect anything back – well, sure it wouldn't be fun at first. But they could be mature about it (he thought) (he was fairly certain) (he hoped) and then things could go back to normal without anyone having to worry about sending the wrong signals or if it meant anything. Lily could go off and be happy with the mystery guy without feeling guilty, if that's what was holding her back (he couldn't imagine whoever it was not being interested).

James had felt quite proud of this decision… several drafts earlier, anyway.

Dear Lily, he began again.

"Mum, are there any owls around?" James burst into the kitchen some time later. Euphemia was cooking dinner and didn't bat an eyelid at James' dramatic entrance.

"They're out at the moment, we had a few things to reply to. I'm sure they'll be free by Monday," she answered, waving her wand over a gently bubbling pot.

"Monday?!" he exclaimed "That's too late, this is, uh…"

"It's what?" Euphemia turned to him, eyebrow raised.

"Uh. Important," James finished lamely.

"Super-secret Marauder communications?"

"Mum! Be serious!"

"Oh, so it's for Lily."

There were some downsides to going to your mother for advice about girls (not that it had ever worked. Although in retrospect, James thought maybe fourteen-year-old him had maybe misunderstood some key points about romance.) and moping around very obviously over the same girl for seven years. This was one of them, and very badly timed.

"It might be," James said, aiming for a neutral tone and missing by a mile. His mother gave him an assessing look.

"I'll be going out tomorrow morning," she said "Leave it on the side table before I go, and if the clearing up happens to do itself tonight, then I'm sure I'll have the energy to drop by the post office."

James brightened and hugged his mother briefly before scrambling back upstairs to his room.

"Dinner in ten minutes," she called after him.

If the owls were going to be away all weekend (and he wished his parents would stop borrowing his owl when he was home) he might as well take the opportunity to get some other letters off as well. Sirius had packed his two-way mirror in a box somewhere for the move and not found it yet, typically. By the time he got all his writing done after dinner he was half asleep, and he dumped the pile of tightly wrapped parchment scrolls on the little table by the front door without bothering with a light before heading to bed.

Friday 11th August 1978

It had been five whole days since Lily must have gotten the letter, but no response. James alternated between thinking that maybe she was ignoring him or just wanted to pretend it had never happened and feeling physically sick with anticipation. This peaked in the middle of Friday afternoon, when he had to accept that any reply Lily might write wouldn't be coming before the party. The one where they'd be seeing each other for the first time in over a month. Which was his own fault, but still.

"You are not going to throw up," he muttered to himself, squaring his shoulders and raising one hand to knock on Sirius and Remus' front door.

"Why the fuck would you throw up?" Marlene asked. James whirled around to see that she had just turned the corner from the stairs, with Lily just behind her, of course.

"Ah. Uh. I said I wouldn't," James said stupidly. He was rescued by the door swinging open behind him.

"I thought I heard voices." Remus stepped back to let them all in.

The flat was small and clean, but very clearly still a work in progress several weeks in. Full packing boxes and Sirius' Hogwarts trunk were doubling as coffee tables next to the sofa and books were stacked along one wall (no bookshelves yet). Everyone else was already there and a healthy pile of largely alcohol-related housewarming gifts sat on the kitchen counter.

"Excellent!" Sirius bounced up from his seat on the floor "We're going to order Chinese takeaway. Using the Muggle phone!" He pointed at a plastic box on the wall. James knew phones were for talking to people, and this looked quite like something at Lily's house, but how it was supposed to work was a complete mystery to him.

James was quickly separated from Lily and Marlene, who went to check out the menu, as he handed over a pristinely wrapped box from his parents and a large bottle of Firewhiskey (unwrapped, his contribution) to Remus.

"We're going to be drunk straight through until Christmas," Remus sighed "Want anything?"

"Have you got any tea?" Getting drunk was absolutely a bad idea, and it was still relatively early.

There was frustratingly little chance to gauge Lily's reaction to the letter throughout the tour (the main kitchen-living area, Sirius and Remus' bedroom strewn with clothes, a tiny spare room, the bathroom), the arrival and eating of dinner (out of a mixture of plates, breakfast bowls and takeaway tubs), and a lively conversation about the upcoming World Cup. She seemed normal enough as the evening wore on. Despite the less-than-grand surroundings, it felt like any of the times the eight of them had hung out in Gryffindor Common Room… in September, where Lily and James' direct interaction had still been minimal.

"Anyway, the plan," Marlene said firmly, clapping her hands together after the conversation derailed itself yet again from their attempts to finalise the trip to France in a week and a half.

"We've booked a Portkey, does anything else really matter?" Sirius groaned, two glasses of Firewhiskey in and decidedly disinterested in anything that involved thinking.

"Tents would be nice," Eliza pointed out.

"I can borrow one off my parents," James offered "I think it's meant to sleep six or something, but there's loads of space, we could all fit."

"I've seen the state of your dorm, no thanks," Lily snorted. James couldn't see her face from where they sat, Peter and Jenny between them, but it was the first time she'd directly addressed him all night. This was a good sign, right?

"We've got two spots next to each other at the campsite," Marlene agreed "Might as well use them."

By the time they left at the end of the night, James was feeling positive. Things had been awkward (Lily had definitely avoided coming too close during the goodbyes), but it hadn't been the nightmare he'd been expecting. Clearly, she'd decided to ignore the letter and continue on as usual, so he should do the same.

Wednesday 16th August 1978

The next group trip seemed to prove James' hypothesis. The weather forecast of thirty-degree blazing sunshine came through, and the beach trip was mandatory attendance. The breeze off the sea made it just about bearable. Sirius and Marlene chased each other in and out of the sea over some dumb thing James hadn't caught while the rest of them worked on a massive sandcastle that would have made James deliriously happy as a child. Lily crouched next to him as they patted sand into wall shapes and criticised his sections like she usually would. Peter was constructing an elaborate keep in the middle Eliza hunted for good decorative shells and Remus had been demoted to moat digging duty with Jenny.

By the time it was finished it was the middle of the afternoon, and the heat had gotten to them all. They collapsed onto the patchwork of towels spread out just further up the sand, watching the tide come creeping back in towards their creation. Conversation was quiet, and James' mind kept straying to the letter.

It kept gnawing at him, and when Lily excused herself to find a toilet James followed her, a minute later to try and be less blindingly obvious. The beach was busy, and he didn't catch her until she was heading back.

"Hey," James called, closing the short distance between them. Lily turned back to face him, surprised.

"Hi?"

"Hi, look, I just had to ask – my letter, did you…" he got out, horribly awkward. Lily looked at him strangely.

"It's not relevant now, surely?" she asked.

James felt like every horrible cliché about heartbreak, which was ridiculous because he'd already known how she felt, but. Ouch.

"I. I guess, yeah."

"We're going to miss the collapse," Lily said, glancing back over her shoulder.

They walked the last short distance to the rest of the group, where sea was coming in in earnest now. Sirius and Marlene were ankle deep in water, shoring up their defences and shouting dramatically.

"East wall's going down!"

James threw himself into the hopeless battle against the tide, but it wasn't long until the eight of the were standing shin-deep in water, holding up bundles of towels and backs, looking at a soggy lump of sand.

"We will remember you, Sandwarts," Sirius said solemnly.

Sunday 20th August 1978

James had thought sending the letter and getting everything resolved would make him feel better, and that he'd be able to properly start moving on. He'd never been more wrong in his life. Lily's quick dismissal and clear lack of interest in discussing the matter had… well, it had hurt. As it turned out, direct rejection was a hell of a lot worse than just assuming nothing was going to happen. He stayed in bed for most of the first day after the beach, staring at the ceiling and regretting all of his life choices, before graduating to wandering aimlessly from his bed to his desk to the beanbag chair. He shoved the unsent letters to the back of the wardrobe along with the envelope of newly developed photo prints from seventh year (arrived just in time to taunt him), only to pull them out again to torment himself with later. They'd taken heaps of photos to document their final year, so just about every possible moment was there on paper to stab him in the heart.

The first photo was the four Marauders, posing in their dorm room for the start of their final year. Sirius was making a rude gesture behind Pete's head. The Quidditch team, lines up on the pitch in neat new uniforms. Posing by snowmen, blurry shots of snowball fights, a flash of red hair at the edge of a picture. The ball – all of them lined up together (minus Remus), a staged photo of the Head Girl and Boy but they were both smiling. Lily with her birthday cake, group shots (several with someone's finger over half the picture) from every occasion and none, Lily and Sirius wading into the Black Lake, waving back at the camera.

It took James a minute to realise that the photos weren't actually getting blurrier. He wiped at his eyes, went back to pacing, and spent half an hour moving things around on his desk before he came back to the photos again.

The first properly sunny day, everyone except Remus optimistically wearing shorts or skirts without tights. Someone had gotten one of Lily and Remus in their usual library study spot, completely unaware of the camera, quills scratching away. A crowded room at the final Quidditch afterparty, Lily standing right next to him, and a series of increasingly wonky photos from the rest of the night as everyone got increasingly tipsy. Post exams, photos of practically every day: them by the lake, them in the common room, them walking the grounds.

"James." His mother's knock at the door was gentler than usual "Dinner's ready."

"I'll be right down." He pushed everything into a box and kicked it under the bed before going to wash his hands.

Dinner had been a quieter affair than usual for a while, with Sirius gone, but it had hit new lows now. James' parents had mostly given up trying to make conversation with him, exchanging worried glances over his head, and he was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed.

"How was your day?" Euphemia asked, spooning out generous helpings of macaroni cheese (she was a firm believer in comfort food). "You're back a little late."

"Oh, alright. Dropped some post in on my way home – thanks," James father passed the first plateful to him and promptly dug into his own.

James couldn't get his mind off the very last photo, taken on Marlene's insistence at the end of year party. James had an arm across Lily's shoulder, and she'd been looking at him just as the photo was taken. On paper, she turned to look at James, and then quickly back towards the camera, and then back to James again in a never-ending loop.

"Found some post fallen behind that vase in the hallway, hopefully not too important an invite," Fleamont continued.

Looking at James, looking away, looking at James…

"Can't be anything too bad," Euphemia said, "Nearly all the garden parties are over now anyway, and no-one's said anything about missing RSVPs. Have you packed for tomorrow James, some clean underwear just came out of the laundry?"

"Huh?" James refocused his attention on the room.

"Packing?"

"Oh. I'll do it tonight."

"I went to the World Cup with my friends when I'd just graduated…" Fleamont said, a train of thought which was bound to lead to disgusting conversations about how his parents were still very much in love after all these years. James particularly couldn't face it tonight and beat a hasty retreat.

The close, sticky heat of the week had broken into warm summer rain with no warning, and James nearly missed his name being called over the sound. He'd made a half-arsed attempt at packing (some clothes had been thrown in the general direction of his bag, and he'd gotten the tent out of the shed at least), but had quickly lost interest and returned to lying on his bed doing nothing.

"James?" The whisper-shouting of someone trying not to be overheard came again, and James sat bolt upright. That had sounded distinctly familiar. If he was hallucinating, that was probably a bad sign… He made his way to the window and leaned out, big warm raindrops damping down his hair and covering his glasses, but even through the blur that was very definitely Lily Evans standing in his front garden.

"Lily?" he called back, keeping his voice low. He'd heard his parents heading to bed already, but he had no idea how late it was.

"Can we talk?"

"Uh. Come around the back, I'll be down in a minute."

James took ten seconds in his room, eyes shut, trying to decide if this was really happening. Did she desperately need to confirm that the rejection had hit home in person or something?

It had been a few years since he'd needed to sneak downstairs to go out at night or get his hands on leftover desserts, but he still remembered to skip the creaky step partway down, and he was at the back door out of the kitchen in record time. His parents' room was far enough away that they weren't in much danger of being overheard unless she wanted to shout at him for some reason. Lily was nearby, looking nervous and rain soaked and making his heart do a stupid little skip.

"What's so important it couldn't wait until the morning?" James asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Lily took a deep breath before speaking.

"I got your letter."

"I know… we talked about this the other day?" he said, hoping to dodge another knife to the heart.

"What?" No such luck.

"Wednesday? The beach?"

"James… I got this tonight." She extracted a (slightly damp) sheet of parchment from the pocket of her shorts.

The floor dropped out from under James for the second time that week, and he gripped the doorframe tightly with one hand.

"Oh. I. Uh. I sent that. A while ago."

"Oh. So you don't…?"

"No! I mean, I do. A few weeks kind of while ago. Just… you didn't have to come all the way out here to let me down." Something clicked together in his head. "Wait, how do you know where I live? How do you know where my room is?"

"I called Remus. What are you on about, why would I come here to let you down?" Lily seems just as confused as he was now.

"Why else would you be here?" James asked carefully, trying to squash down the hope bubbling up.

"Why else – holy shit, you're an idiot," Lily said in disbelief.

"This isn't sounding any better-"

"You're an idiot. I'm an idiot. We're solidly at least a whole year of idiot," she interrupted him.

"You're not an idiot." James picked the only clear bit of that statement to respond to.

"Shut up," she told him, stepping forwards. James didn't move. "Everyone tried to tell us – god, we went on a date – we're both total idiots."

And the Lily Evans was kissing him. Their noses bumped together, just for a second, and then Lily. Evans. Was kissing. Him. James had imagined this more times than he could count, more ways than he could remember, and not one of them had been right. He stood for a moment, stunned, before he remembered how this worked and his hands game to rest at her waist, pulling her closer and out of the rain. Her hair smelled like apples, and as the reluctantly separated James became horrifyingly aware of the fact that he hadn't showered in days and was wearing dubiously clean clothes (the only mercy was that he hadn't kicked off his jeans after dinner).

"I definitely had a better plan of what to say than that," Lily admitted. The light coming from the kitchen window was enough to see her blushing.

"We could go talk out of the rain?" James suggested, praying it didn't come across as inappropriate. That was something best not thought about with Lily still about two inches from him, actually.

Sneaking back in was rather more stressful than going out. As a grown adult, there were technically no rules on whether James could bring girls into his room, but he suspected his parents might not be too impressed. He guided Lily up the stairs to his room in darkness, butterflies somersaulting in his stomach every time he touched her hand, and immediately excused himself to the bathroom just down the hall. James took the opportunity to wash his face and apply deodorant before grabbing a towel.

Lily hadn't moved from where he'd left her, but she was looking around with interest. He offered her the towel, hoping to distract her from the evidence of his moping (used breakfast bowls covered his desk, clean and dirty laundry littered the room, the pile of letter drafts was front and centre in the wardrobe with the doors hanging open from his earlier packing).

"I don't know where to start now," Lily said.

"The beginning?"

"Yeah. Okay. Well, if it wasn't totally clear already," The blush had returned full force "I like you too. A lot. But I guess the story started when…"

Every repressed feeling and misunderstanding unravelled in whispers as the night went on. James couldn't have kept the smile off his face if he'd tried, but one thing still nagged at him…

"What about the guy?"

"The guy?" Lily asked, confused yet again.

"At that Ravenclaw party, I kind of overheard you and Will talking. He seemed pretty certain that you and this guy would work out."

Lily was struggling to hold in her laughter.

"James. James. The guy was obviously you!"

"Is there anything you didn't put in the letter?" Lily asked some time later "I mean, it was a full essay, I've seen you write less for actually homework."

They were lying down now, faces inches apart so they could whisper with minimum effort as they grew more and more tired.

"Uh. Now that you mention it…" There was one thing left for James to get off his chest.

"Oh come on, I was joking!"

"Remus said you know about. Him." The mood took a sudden serious turn. "And that you suspected we were involved somehow… You know what, this is easier if I just show you."

He climbed off the bed and kicked things aside to make a clear space. Transforming into the stag was as easy as breathing after the years of regular practice, although he'd never expected to be doing it for this audience. There was a sharp intake of breath. Lily was just staring at him, so he nudged her arm with his nose to try and snap her out of it. She tentatively patted him on the head.

"An Animagus – that's so dangerous!" She forgot to whisper for a moment before quickly lowering her voice. James, human again in a second, laughed and dropped to sit beside her.

"We figured it out years ago, it's fine. I mean, illegal, but fine."

"We? Years?" Lily was utterly stunned.

"Sirius is a dog, Pete's a rat. Werewolves… they only go after humans and other werewolves. We started thinking about it in second year. But it took a few years to get it right."

"You became illegal Animagi by fifteen? That's… that's incredible." It was James' turn to blush for once.

"Remus was so mad when he found out what we were planning, didn't speak to us for weeks."

They were quiet for a while, Lily processing.

"So, any more bombshells to drop?" she asked finally.

"Well, there are many, many Marauder secrets," James said mock-seriously "But I think we've covered the important bits. You?"

"Me? I only had the one secret here, and I think we've pretty thoroughly covered that one."

"I can't believe we could have been doing this for months," James groaned, lifting their joined hands in demonstration.

"We officially have the most ridiculous story-"

They heard a creak from outside the room and froze.

"I should go," Lily whispered once the coast was clear. James made to protest, but she continued. "We've got an early start tomorrow, Marlene's coming over at six."

James rolled over to look at his alarm clock, which read just gone two.

"I suppose so," he sighed. "I'll walk you out."

James returned to his room alone, feeling lighter than air, like he'd never be able to sleep again from sheer happiness. Which was probably for the best because he still had a holiday to pack for.

A/N: An actual new chapter, only two years late! We are super super close to the end now (one more chapter and a short not-an-epilogue kind of thing planned). I actually had 90% of this chapter done when I last stopped writing apparently (I have a vague memory of there being another previous draft for this as well), but I started over the other day and here is VERSION THREE of finally, finally getting there.