Felix Culpa

She calls him James now, and he calls her Lily, but that doesn't mean she intended to kiss him, or maybe she did.

The word that leaves his mouth is all too familiar, the same thing she knows she'll hear every time she sees him.

"Evans."

Two points to Lily, she thinks, before responding.

"Potter."

Lily quickly makes a bet with herself- one Galleon towards the Honeydukes fund if he decides to ask her out.

"You look nice."

Damn, she thinks. But then again, finally a chance to use the witty rebuttal she'd made up weeks ago.

"I've a date with the Giant Squid, didn't you hear?"

When his face falls just slightly, she tries to tell herself she doesn't feel the littlest bit bad.

"Lily," he calls, and on instinct she stops, whirling to face him. He's dressed in a scarlet sweater, and she thinks for just a moment that he'd look miles better in green. But of course, he's Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and no way in hell would he wear green.

"Potter," she says, perhaps a bit less venomously than normal, although she's not about to admit such to even herself.

Three, two, one, she thinks silently, waiting for another episode of James-asking-Lily-out to add to the count. She has a bet with Marlene. Twenty times by Christmas and McKinnon owes her two bars of Honeydukes and a new book. She crosses her fingers as he opens his mouth.

"What you said in Charms earlier was really brilliant."

"Bugger," she says under her breath. As Lily Evans walks away from him, she realises she's disappointed, and it's not because she's only got two tallies towards her end-of-term prize.

She reaches the end of the corridor and repeats the curse, but this time for a less chocolate-y and significantly more Potter-y reason.

They've not even left class when he says her name, rather quietly for a Marauder. And so she waits for him by the door of the Transfiguration classroom, telling Marlene to go on ahead, it must just be Head business.

She hopes, against all reason, that it's not, and the little knowing smirk Hestia throws her as she, too, leaves tells Lily that her friends have noticed too.

"Hi," he says when he's shoved all his books haphazardly into his schoolbag, one that's a vibrant red embroidered with his Quidditch number. Potter's standing rather uncomfortably close to her, really, and Miss Lily Evans, who does not blush under any circumstances, maybe does. Just a bit.

"Hello, Potter," she says to cover her nerves. He reaches up to his hair and starts to run his hand through it and Lily considers giving him the glare of death to make him stop.

But really, she thinks, rather irrationally, what harm is it?

"Ah- erm, I was, well, y'know how Avery and Regulus and their mates-" she notes how carefully he avoids accusing Severus- "They've been 'round a lot lately, harassing kids and stuff, and I was wondering if, um, you'd like to start, um, walking together on rounds- and having the other prefects go together too, 'course- since I don't really feel like getting hexed and all…" he trails off.

And she knows that he means he doesn't really feel like watching her get hexed, or cursed, or Crucio'd. Because he's not really in any proper danger, at least not at school, since he's a Pureblood, but she is, especially since she's Head Girl and none of that crowd is keen on taking orders from a Mudblood.

As Severus so kindly labelled her.

Really, Lily thinks, it's kind of sweet.

"All right, Potter. Want to arrange an emergency meeting about it for tonight?"

He nods eagerly. "All right, Ev- Lily."

And as they both leave and split to opposite directions, him to Quidditch Theory (what a useless class, in her opinion, obviously he's already near perfect at the game anyway, not that she is about to tell him) and her to Muggle Studies, because it was a choice between that and Arithmancy and she hates math, Muggle or magical, she realises that she'll get to tell Marlene and Hestia that it was, actually, Head business.

She plans to leave out the bit where he was obviously more worried for her than the others, of course.

"Ready, Lily?" he asks her, hovering over the chair in the common room where she's lounging. It should be illegal to disturb someone this comfortable, she thinks, sinking deeper into the cushions with an air of petulance.

"Uh-uh, Ja- Potter." His eyes widen for a second and he opens his mouth for some snarky comment, she's sure, before snapping it shut again. "I'm comfy," she murmurs, fully aware that she sounds like a toddler, although to be perfectly honest spending time with James- she's stopped calling him Potter in her head- doesn't sound too abhorrent.

"Oh, well, it's fine, I can go on my own then, you've been so busy lately." Did James Potter really just offer to be the responsible one? He turns to leave and she groans, sending a glare to the silently laughing group that she seems to call her friends before shoving herself upright with all the grace of a paralyzed camel. By the time she shoves her feet back into her unlaced shoes and retrieves her wand from the end table, he's fifty feet away, nearly at the portrait hole.

"Merlin," she mutters to herself. Is she honestly chasing after James-bloody-Potter? She weaves through the crowds of first-through-third years, and bloody hell, when did Gryffindor get this many students?

But when she reaches the exit, James is waiting for her, holding open the door like the gentleman that he and the rest of his mates claim not to be.

"Thanks for coming," he says once the warm light of Gryffindor Tower is shut off by the Fat Lady's portrait.

"I was hardly about to start breaking my own rules, James." Bloody hell. Apparently she's stopped calling him Potter aloud, too.

As they patrol in the dim light of the lanterns, she admits to herself that maybe she didn't come solely to abide by the rules.

It's nearly two in the morning and she's got this essay and she's going to get it done, dammit, but why in Merlin's name did Professor Saurfin think three feet on the use of bloody televisions was at all relevant? Three feet!

Marlene and Hestia had abandoned her nearly an hour ago to her misery and she is alone, having sent up anyone below year five to bed at ten and everyone over the age of fifteen valued their sleep too much to stay up much beyond that. The fire is crackling softly behind her, lighting up her spot just enough that she can write legibly.

Suddenly, Lily hears the creak of one of the boy's dormitory doors, a sound that she swears is charmed into them to alert unsuspecting girls to run. The room belonging to the current seventh year boys definitely needs an alarm system.

Soft footsteps pad down the stairs and a figure stops at the base, staring at her through the dim.

"Lily?" James Potter whispers to her, a hint of sleep still in his voice.

"Yeah?" She's not even mad at him for distracting her from her latest sentence about the difference between colour TVs and black-and-white. It's a ramble anyhow.

He crosses the short length between them and sits next to her on the couch, the only thing separating them the large textbook open to a cartoonish photo of a wizard holding a TV remote backwards in obvious confusion.

"Why are you still up?" She wants to say something snarky, maybe about how obviously she's building a house elf army mounted on unicorns and doesn't he have eyes, but she's too tired to bother and yawns instead.

"Finishing this," she mumbles through the yawn. "Three feet on TVs."

James rolls his eyes, but holds out his hand. "Give it here, Evans."

"What for, Potter?" she snaps in return.

He sighs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm finishing it for you. You're too tired to write anything coherent right now."

"You don't know anything about TVs," she points out, ready to give up her Head Girl badge for cheating if she can get a few hours' sleep. But she hands it over anyway.

"I'll figure it out," he says, picking up her quill too.

"Alright," she yawns, tucking up her feet. "Make sure to add-"

But she's asleep before she can finish her sentence. James smiles and magicks a blanket over her from a nearby chair.

When her essay is done an hour later, she's sleeping with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

Two days later and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team has their third game of the season, the second against Slytherin. In true Hogwarts fashion, three-fourths of the spectators are decked out in scarlet and gold, although a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with friends in Slytherin wear green. Lily watches from one of the best seats in the midfield towers, the ones reserved unofficially for the older students. James has already scored five times and now Gryffindor is stalling a bit at one hundred twenty points, since the green side of the scoreboard displays only a zero.

Sirius is the one manning the announcer's booth, much to Professor McGonagall's dismay. He's alternately complimenting her, insulting the Slytherins, and teasing James. Even Lily's laughing, no matter how ridiculous she finds him.

Suddenly James Potter is flying practically on top of her, and Sirius has shut up, too, which generally means something rather terrible for her mental health is forthcoming.

"Lily!" he shouts above the cheers and laughter of those around her.

"Sorry, who?" she yells back. He falters for a second and she wonders if he's about to ask her out again. Apparently Marlene thinks so, as she's rubbing her fingers together like some American gangster beside Lily.

"Wanna murder Sirius with me?" he asks.

She laughs, giving him perhaps the cheesiest smile she's ever created.

"Win first, then we'll call it a date!" she calls back.

He grins back.

"All right, Evans."

Unsurprisingly, they win. Surprisingly, at least for Lily, she's more than a bit disappointed that they don't keep their date, potential homicide or no.

Two weeks later and the giant party in the Common Room isn't for a Gryffindor victory, or anything for that matter. Although only fourth years and above are allowed downstairs, there's still well over a hundred people packed into the room with additions from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and the party's just getting started.

Lily's tucked into the corner of the room by the windows with Marlene, and oddly enough, Remus, who is normally in the center of these things with his mates. But he looks unusually tired and careworn, like a well-loved toy that's had it's stuffing yanked out.

She knows why, of course; she's known since fifth year, when she spent two or three days a month covering for him.

"Lily!" James yells over the pulsing music of Amorentia, the current popular Wizarding band.

"James!" she yells back, flushed in the heat of the room and the excitement bouncing around her.

"We need provisions!" he says, more quietly now that he's closer, but still above a sane human's volume.

"Haven't you stolen every bit of Butterbeer from Rosemerta anyway?" she returns. He gapes at her for a second and she takes the opportunity to shove her hair back out of her face.

"We did not steal. We… took permanent possession."

"Without payment?"

"I left a couple Galleons," he promises, looking rather ashamed of himself.

Lily sighs. "You're such a terrible role model, Potter. Dumbledore must've been high." James snorts and something about it is quite attractive, really, and she's not even drunk.

"I've been saying that since the start, Lily. But that's not the point. We're out of food, and with Gamp's Law and all…"

He trails off and now it's her turn to gape- she knows he's good at Transfiguration, but she hardly expects him to know the theory behind why his first year attempts to conjure Ogden's Old Firewhiskey never quite worked.

"Alright."

He offers her a hand and she actually takes it, letting him haul her tired, flushed body off its perch on the windowsill. Without speaking, not that they could be heard once they get closer into the crowd, they make for the portrait hole, still clasping hands. His hand is warm, and rather nice, in her opinion. Strong and a bit calloused from Quidditch, but it seems like she's completely overlooked that as he tugs her past masses of dancing students. Everyone is in Muggle clothes, even the purebloods, and the girls are in dresses or skirts, mostly- even Lily herself. The boys haven't made as much of an effort, but James is wearing khaki trousers and another red sweater.

Overtaken by some inane urge, Lily blurts out something she rather immediately regrets.

"Green's a better colour on you, you know."

Now they're further from the impromptu dance floor and Sirius' imitation of a Muggle DJ, so James can actually hear her.

One eyebrow is raised and his face is slowly splitting into a smile.

"Oh, is it now?" He's laughing at her, she's sure, and she's rather put out by it.

"Actually, yes, you and your bloody House obsession don't have to always match!" she snaps, whining just a bit. Maybe it's the three butterbeers (and shot of Ogden's Old that Hestia threw at her earlier), but she figures at this point she might as well just keep on talking.

"Green goes with your eyes, you git," she snaps.

"Ah, so you've noticed my eyes."

James smiles even wider as he swings open the portrait hole and steps into the corridor, letting go of her hand.

She tries to ignore the fact that she misses it, just a bit.

They're walking down the third floor corridor from Charms to Transfiguration and James is looking rather pleased with himself, Lily notes. She's not sure why but it's never good when he's so cheery about something. It generally ends in something blowing up in a Slytherin's face.

"Hey, Lily," he says, turning to face her.

"Hey, James," she returns, trying to subtly switch her bag from her right hand, nearest him, to her left. It's hardly her fault the bloody thing weighs as much as Slughorn, and it's of course not at all related to the fact that she wants him to hold her hand.

"Can you hold something for me?" He holds out his own hand in a fist like he's got some horrible small animal or goo or something in it, but she puts her hand out anyway.

When he goes to place the mysterious object in her palm, he slides his fingers through hers and they're left swinging their hands together down the entire hallway.

"Lily!" He's drawing the 'e' sound out unnaturally long and with his owl's cage in one hand and his trunk in the other, he looks rather patently ridiculous.

"James!" she says, trying to imitate his obnoxious way of saying her name, but it's much harder, unless she wants to sound like a snake.

"Help me!" he whines, dropping his surely very expensive trunk on the paving stones outside the castle. Of course, the thing already possesses its fair share of burns and dings from six and a half years of rooming with Sirius Black.

"Nope," she says, and she's laughing at him, his broomstick strapped to his back in some indecently expensive harness thing, surely purchased specifically for the purpose of appearing a prat.

"Lily!" he wails again, and her things are already on one of the carriages that are mostly left for the seventh years, and he does look rather handsome, and so even though her hands are freezing in the cold air and snow, she reaches for his owl and hauls the poor, overly obese creature into the carriage, leaving him to wrestle with the trunk.

It's amusing, watching him try to haul the thing in, more amusing than it should be. Finally he drops the thing back onto the ground and opens it, with some accompanying curses about how someone must have packed a dead body in it.

It's filled with rocks, courtesy of Sirius, although Lily and Remus both had a bit of a hand in it, and she bursts out in so much laughter it hurts, and when he screams for Remus and Sirius they start laughing too.

"I hate you!" he shouts at her, magicking the stones into the forest.

"No, you don't," she reminds him, still laughing.

"No, I don't," he agrees.

They've been on the bloody train for ten hours, two longer than normal, because apparently there's too much snow on the tracks, and apparently passage would be absolutely impossible.

However, as Lily had so eloquently put it not five minutes before, "They're wizards, and wizards tend to be perfectly-effing-capable of clearing away snow."

And so now she and four of the other seventh-year Gryffindor girls are stuffed into a compartment with the Marauders and their roommate. Kingsley, who is looking particularly displeased after two extra hours in a small space with Sirius Black and James Potter. Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue have escaped to some empty compartment already.

As soon as the train had come to a screeching halt two hours before, they had joined them. It had been loud and fun at first, but now worry is sweeping through the group and they are mostly silent.

"Lily," James says quietly, turning his wand over in strong, tan fingers. It's a mesmerizing motion, and she has her eyes locked on it, mostly because there's hardly anything else to look at, unless you count Marlene anxiously twisting Sirius' hair through her own fingers as entertainment.

"Yeah?" she says back, and in the almost-dead silence, their voices stand out. Only Remus bothers to turn towards them, and just barely, from where he sits with his hands clasped on his knees, folded over with worry etched into his face.

"We ought to go check," James says, and she knows instantly what he's on about. It's not a matter of checking how much longer they'll be stuck. It's a matter of checking if they're safe.

The current definition of safety does not bother with "freak" snowfall. They are all far more concerned over the real world's real threat of Death Eaters.

So she stands, and he stands, and they both slip wands into their hands. He opens the frosted glass sliding door gently and closes it just as quietly.

The main aisle is dimmed. No one peeks their head into the aisle and the pair is silent as they turn towards the engine at the front of the train.

"Lumos," whispers Lily, but the spell is weak against the oddly overwhelming dim. Apprehension trickles down her spine and she's tempted to spin around and start casting curses.

James must feel the same way, she realises, when he reaches towards her hand.

She willingly twists her fingers through his, even though anyone could see them, and the prickling cedes slightly, just enough to take the edge off her fear.

When they reach the front, it's empty. The conductor is gone, the trolley witch is nowhere to be found. The magical fire that powers the train has burnt to nothing, and so Lily shivers in the icy cold.

"What-" James starts, but before he can finish dark figures appear in the doorway, blocking their only exit.

Three or four, Lily thinks. They're outnumbered.

One of them lets the word Mudblood fall from his lips, then attacks James: Blood traitor.

She's gone to school with the voice for years, she realises instantly.

"Mulciber," she snaps, holding her wand aloft to light his face. Beside her, James shifts slightly, ready for a fight.

Mulciber sounds far too pleased with himself as he introduces his fellow Death Eaters. Avery, Dellanore, and her former best friend.

Lily's heart plummets as she recognizes Snape, hidden behind the other three. James hisses something nasty under his breath and squeezes her hand again. She ignores her fluttering stomach when he does so. She has no time for that, not in a war.

The boys step inside the small space and shut the door with a clang, but it's hardly loud enough for the other students to bother investigating, and a fair few this close to the front are first years anyway- first years that two hours before, Lily had instructed to stay in their compartments, had conjured blankets for. Don't worry, she'd said.

Obviously she had been wrong.

"What in Merlin's name are you playing at?"

Galius Dellanore takes over, his rough voice telling them all about their task, to stop the train, to terrorize the younger students.

And to do far worse to the older ones.

She realises that very quickly, as the curse slips from Snape's mouth, fuelled by hatred and fear.

She realises that, as her wandlight goes black and the wood clatters to the floor.

As the boys laugh, congratulate him, as through tear-filled eyes she stares at the wand turned unwaveringly on her.

As James drops to the floor beside her, screaming something.

As every shred of her burns up in a million-degree fire, begging to be freed from the torture.

Slowly, the lights flicker brighter in the doorway, one left mysteriously empty.

Everything stops and the flames are cooled and she's left lying on the floor with James crouched over her, calling her name.

"Lily," he whispers, running a thumb over her forehead, then dragging it down her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

He's clutching her right hand with his left as he pulls her into his lap and off the cold floor. She's shaking, but he's warm and sturdy, tucking her into his shoulder like a small child.

"God," she whispers. James pulls her closer, if that's possible, and as she is cradled in the arms of a boy she professes to hate, she lets the first tears she's shed in a long while fall.

Lily, the letter starts. It had arrived with a large snowy owl not ten minutes before, the animal happily usurping the perch belonging to Lily's own tiny saw-whet owl. The poor snowy can barely fit its beak into the miniature sized water dish.

But she's distracted from the owl by the rest of the letter.

I know we're not on the best of terms most times, but I was wondering if you'd like to come by for dinner Tuesday. Sirius will be there, of course, but Remus as well, and Peter. If you'd like, any of your friends are welcome (Sirius insisted I invite Marlene already). Oh, and Frank and Alice are coming, too, but Kingsley declined. I can't really blame him, Sirius is desperately hoping to find someone to try the latest Spot-Sprouting Powder from Zonko's on.

It won't be anything fancy, really- just a bunch of us hanging out and perhaps irritating my mother, though that's unlikely, seeing as she's been putting up with Sirius for two years now.

Anyway, please let me know.

James

p.s.- I told Polar, the owl, to peck you if you decline. I'm not sure he will, though, he's fairly sweet.

Despite herself, Lily smiles, pulling a small square of parchment from the stack she keeps on her desk.

James,

I suppose I'll have to suffer through this party, then, if I'm in danger of murder by your fluffy little owl. Who would have thought that James-I-am-so-macho-Potter would have owned such puffball of a creature?

See you tomorrow,

Lily

"Polar!" she says, and the owl swoops onto her arm immediately, offering a leg for her to tie the letter to.

She watches as he swoops out the window before shutting and latching the glass, her only line of defence from everything outside.

"Lily!" James calls as soon as she steps out of his fireplace, inadvertently letting soot fall on the very expensive Turkish rugs.

"Oh- hi, James," she says, trying to figure out how to fix the floor before his mother or someone notices. But James sees what she's doing and laughs, then performs a simple Cleansing Charm to dust the blackened gunk back into the fireplace.

"Don't worry," he says. "Sirius does that a lot." He walks closer and with every step her heartbeat speeds a little bit faster. She doesn't even bother telling it not to. "Are you alright?"

Lily smiles. "It's just the Floo, James."

But the look he gives her tells her that's not at all what he meant.

They walk into the next room together, and Lily tries very hard not to have her jaw drop. The entire space is done up for Christmas in glittering reds and golds and a huge Muggle-style Christmas tree, with songs bursting from its branches and golden light glowing from within it. The room is cosy and she feels at home, even though her entire house could most likely fit inside it.

Six people wave to her from the couches, all the Marauders plus Frank, and Marlene and Alice. She's last, as James informs her, but that apparently comes with the bonus of having a huge mug of hot chocolate ready and waiting for her, filled with whipped cream and a Self-Stirring Spoon.

"Mum ought to be done with dinner soon," says James, sitting next to her. Marlene sends her a very pointed look, but Lily ignores her.

It's as if a fairytale spell has been cast over her, sending warmth throughout her body as she settles into the indecently comfortable couch. Lily realises she hasn't been this comfortable since, well, since before Severus and the train, and the thought immediately sends icy fingers up her spine.

James is looking at her oddly, she realises, but she doesn't much care about that when he takes her hand in his reassuringly, when he shifts closer so her head is resting on his shoulder.

Now it's Alice's turn for a pointed look, but Lily shrugs. The fear is dissipating, the all-encompassing terror that had filled her for the three days between then and now. She doesn't even mind that it's James Potter of all people.

Actually, she's rather glad it is.

When James Potter appears at her door on Christmas Eve a week later, she's somewhat surprised, even though he took her home after dinner when she very nearly fell asleep in his lap, drunk on hot chocolate and food and warmth.

But now he's obviously worried, the way he's running a hand through his hair and chewing on his lip, and she wonders if he's about to ask her out again.

He doesn't, though.

"James?"

He seems to actually start breathing for a second.

"This is for you, Lily," he says, passing her a small but heavy package, neatly wrapped in red paper and gold ribbon, with small bells that seem to be chiming of their own accord.

She stares at it for a moment before opening the door wider and inviting him into the empty house. Her parents are off on some deadly important errand with Petunia and so it's just her and Faerie the owl. And, apparently, James Potter.

Lily leads him upstairs and into her room, and in retrospect, one probably oughtn't take a boy in one's room with her parents gone, but then again, it's James.

She sits on the bed and he takes her desk chair while she carefully unwraps the present.

It's two pounds of Honeyduke's finest, a small box, and a fat book. The box is slim and sleek, dark wood veneer laid polished to a bright shine, but to be perfectly honest, it looks rather dull to Lily when compared with the book. That looks much more interesting. The title is Phoenix, apparently the first in some sort of fictional series about a young witch.

Something tells her to open the first box before the book, and she does, James watching on anxiously.

Inside, the velvet lining is a deep red, holding her present securely. The necklace is on a thin gold chain with a teardrop diamond on the end, and she very much suspects that the diamond is real.

"Thank you," she says quietly, and James breaks into a wide smile. The necklace is gorgeous and she carefully clasps it around her neck. The diamond falls perfectly.

"I made it," he says with another smile. "Our jeweller, he taught me how to cut the diamond and everything. And there's some spells on it, a Shield Charm mostly, but a few others."

"A tracking charm?" she says archly, but he just laughs.

"As if. I happen to like having my head attached, thank you."

Lily breaks the laughter, though, when she looks at her hands because she suddenly can't meet his eyes.

"I didn't get you anything, I'm sorry." It's true- she hasn't even left the house except for the dinner a week prior, because she's not sure where Severus is and deep down, she's terrified to find out.

"I don't mind," says James, suddenly somber as he stands from his chair and settles next to her on the small bed.

They stare out the window together, for a moment, at the white snow and grey sky as Lily's heart beats madly in her throat.

"James," she whispers, and it's more of a question than anything. As tall as he is, he presses a short kiss to her hair before shifting to face her.

"Lily," he says, just as softly, but something in his voice burns, shocking her out of the chill she's been living in. His eyes are golden in the wavering light from the window and his hair is outlined in the silvery shade of light that comes with snowstorms.

When she tilts her head towards his, and when she smells the mint and chocolate on his breath, and when she kisses him, she's no longer scared.

So. That's not how I intended for this to go at all. In fact, the working title was The Name's Potter. James Potter., because I wanted this to be funny and cute, not angsty and (hopefully) heart wrenching and perhaps worth a good cry.

Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you've something to question or just something to say and I'll definitely try to respond.

-Dreams