gryffindormischief

[gryffindormischief]

firefighter

A/N: if I never get more than 2 behind then I'm basically on schedule, right?

@jilymicrofics

“You’re really a lifesaver,” James says, probably for the third time since Lily arrived. At least the second time since she ascended the ladder.

She turns and grins over her shoulder, holding out one hand for her heavy duty gloves. “Literally - also kind of my job.”

James passes them over and returns to his place at the base of her ladder. Despite her assurances that it’s necessary, it’s making him feel useful. “No I can’t tell you how quickly mum would destroy me to avenge her favorite child; also I think its not entirely your job I called your personal number.”

Lily pulls a few cat treats from her pocket and lifts them toward Bond. “James I know your mum. She loves you more than the cat…also please never call the station for this.”

“No she loves the cat more - remember what his legal name is? She was calling me Human James.”

“But she stopped,” Lily says in a sweeter voice than usual as she coaxes the cat toward her.

“Another tick in the Bond box is that I apparently withhold affection.”

“More than a cat?”

“Right? I would’ve thought the fact that I don’t ask her to scoop my poop was a tick in my favor.”

Bond chooses this point to accept Lily’s food based motivation and crawls into her open palm. She draws him into her chest and scratches his chin. “Does that mean you do piss in a box in her laundry room? Here, get to know your brother.”

James’s shoulders tense as he accepts the furry package. For his part, Bond eyes James warily reaching stretched paws out as if begging Lily to protect him. James holds Bond beneath his front legs and squints. “No piss, but but I have been known to chew her phone cables.”

“No wonder she prefers this little bloke,” Lily gives Bond a gentle stroke on the white strip between his ears. 

“He’s also never complained about wearing a tux,” James adds, “Though he can’t really avoid it - a shit!”

In what James would call classic Bond assholery, said cat digs his claws into James’s forearm and leaps to the ground. Before wither human can react, Bond is back in the tree and looking quite smug. 

Lily sighs. “You might not like to hear it, but between the tux and the violence, he’s pretty genetically set to be James Bond.”

“That’s what I told mum about not wanting to wear a tux and she didn’t buy it.”

They resume their tree climbing positions and Lily fixes her eyes decidedly not in James’s direction when she finally speaks, “Not sure what your issue is. You’re fit. Fit blokes usually look fitter in a tux.”

James is still puzzling that statement out when a third voice - the voice he least wants to hear at the moment Bond is in a tree and Lily is maybe hitting on him - sounds from over his shoulder. “That’s what I keep telling him.”

Both turn, Lily a little more carefully given her place perched half in the tree to find Euphemia Potter taking in the messy tableau. 

“Mum,” James forces a ‘nothing is wrong here grin’ which is definitely not his best before the cat in the tree evidence is even considered. 

“Why is my baby in a tree?”

Immediately, Mature Adult James disappears and is replaced by Childish Pouty James most often bright about by playing Mario Kart with Sirius or any interaction with his mum’s cat. He fold his arms. “Because he’s the devil.”

Lily climbs down carefully, expertly, and passes the cat to James like he needs him as a shield…and given the way his mother’s eyes have narrowed maybe he does. 

“Your dapper child is now safe and out of the tree,” Lily says and winks, “Rate us on Yelp.”

Euphemia pats Lily’s cheek and smiles, “Thank you dear.” Her smile drops when she turns to James, “I will talk to you later,” she tugs Bond from his hands, “And when you’re done with whatever this is, invite Lily inside for lemonade like I wasn’t a complete failure of a mother.”

Once his mother has disappeared inside the house, James ruffles his hair and glances towards Lily. He watches, briefly not creepily, as she loads her gear back into the rig. “You really did save my life.”

“She might still send you cat poo in the post.”

James chuckles. “Yeah honestly that has happened.”

Lily pushes the rig doors shut and leans against them, lI wonder which box do you check on the label to indicate cat poo.”

“I think it was probably illegal so - “

Suddenly, Lily closes the distance - most of it anyway - between them until his back brushes the tree trunk. “Since I did save your life…”

“And the life of my mum’s cat,” James adds, throat bobbing. 

Lily smirks. “Yes. Keep that in mind.”

“This is getting ominous.”

“There’s this fancy dress fire - well its not the fireman’s ball because im not a man, but if we call it fire ball - “

“That sounds wicked,” James says teasingly as his fingers reach to gently brush against hers. 

She blows out a long breath. “But also like not exactly inviting.”

“Point,” James allows with a dip of his head. 

“I don’t need a date but since you’re indebted to me we could…take care of that.”

This time when he reaches toward her fingers he grasps them, pulling her close enough to not be friendly. “And I would need a tux.”

Lily’s voice is breathier than he’s ever heard when she replies. “It’s not a favor if all you have to do is spend a glorious evening in my presence.”

“Definitely valid,” James murmurs, their noses brushing. 

“Did I mention your mum will be attending?” Lily whispers against his lips. 

James snickers and presses a short kiss to her lips. “No more about my mum, eh?”

“Even if I think she’s watching through the window?”

[gryffindormischief]

Jily memories

[gryffindormischief]

Sirius *breaks Ron* *threatens Hermione* *chokes out Harry* Black: so anyways, I’m your godfather and I love you and also that rat’s a fake.

[gryffindormischief]

space

A/N: a little flirty but I would still call this a T also ps I want to make this a longer fic with no plot and I might???

@jilymicrofics

Lily sighs, carding her hands through James’s wilder than usual hair while he continues pressing lazy kisses along the column of her neck. 

They’re stationary out in what feels like - and kind of is - the middle of nowhere out in space. They picked this spot, where aurora look more like glowing rivers they could trip through than colors painted in the distant night sky, particularly for the view and the quiet. 

James pauses at her collar bone, warm breaths skittering over her sweat-damp skin. “Did you ever think you’d be a space pirate?” 

“Absolutely,” Lily answers without hesitation. She’d drawn an entire anthology of Captain Lily comics and only had one confiscation after Petunia’s discovery before she learned to hide them better. If her sister and her mum only knew they fostered her love of smuggling. 

“Did you,” James’s right hand finds her left, both marked with scars and bruises from ship repairs just as much as battle, “ever think you’d be going on a space pirate honeymoon with your first mate.” His index finger finds the band of her ring and wriggles it so the dim overhead cabin lights catch on the facets. 

Lily mimics his movements, drawing his left hand into view and kissing the golden ring. “Also yes…I believe that was issue no. 108 of Captain Lily’s adventures. Did you ever think you’d be going on a space pirate honeymoon with your captain?”

His answering frown is playful, self deprecation evident as he shakes his head. “Alas, eight-year-old James was maybe more into being captain than being into a captain.” James winds their fingers together, gently guiding the backs of Lily’s hands until they’re pressed on either side of her head. “But twenty eight year old James figured all that out.”

Lily cranes her neck just enough to claim James’s lips, freeing one hand so her arm can band around his neck, pulling him closer and eventually twisting their positions so she’s the one left free to move about and explore. As she lingers at the water color tattoo of an Earth sunrise over his heart - he says its the colors of her - Lily murmurs, “Mmm I’m glad to have aided in your growth.”

“You aid a couple areas of growth for me,” James drawls, wriggling his brows.

“Wow - James,” Lily definitely starts off sassy, but then James’s fingers tickle up along her spine and it’s all over.

And James knows it, because he’s definitely smirking, giving her that look that started this whole thing rolling when he stepped - sauntered - on board eighteen months ago. “You married me.”

Lily follows his prompting and sits back as he sits forward, “I - ,” his lips settle over hers and she nearly loses the train of her sentence, but not quite, “did.”

James nips at her ear. “Maybe a little bit because you found that growth…interesting.”

Humming, Lily lets her palms slide to his shoulders and shoves him gently back toward the pillows and tosses her hair, triumphant, “I do find men accepting female authority fascinating.”

James’s grin is brighter than the aurora, at least to Lily. “Why don’t you show me some of that female authority just to really seal the lesson.”

[gryffindormischief]

space

A/N: a little flirty but I would still call this a T also ps I want to make this a longer fic with no plot and I might???

@jilymicrofics

Lily sighs, carding her hands through James’s wilder than usual hair while he continues pressing lazy kisses along the column of her neck. 

They’re stationary out in what feels like - and kind of is - the middle of nowhere out in space. They picked this spot, where aurora look more like glowing rivers they could trip through than colors painted in the distant night sky, particularly for the view and the quiet. 

James pauses at her collar bone, warm breaths skittering over her sweat-damp skin. “Did you ever think you’d be a space pirate?” 

“Absolutely,” Lily answers without hesitation. She’d drawn an entire anthology of Captain Lily comics and only had one confiscation after Petunia’s discovery before she learned to hide them better. If her sister and her mum only knew they fostered her love of smuggling. 

“Did you,” James’s right hand finds her left, both marked with scars and bruises from ship repairs just as much as battle, “ever think you’d be going on a space pirate honeymoon with your first mate.” His index finger finds the band of her ring and wriggles it so the dim overhead cabin lights catch on the facets. 

Lily mimics his movements, drawing his left hand into view and kissing the golden ring. “Also yes…I believe that was issue no. 108 of Captain Lily’s adventures. Did you ever think you’d be going on a space pirate honeymoon with your captain?”

His answering frown is playful, self deprecation evident as he shakes his head. “Alas, eight-year-old James was maybe more into being captain than being into a captain.” James winds their fingers together, gently guiding the backs of Lily’s hands until they’re pressed on either side of her head. “But twenty eight year old James figured all that out.”

Lily cranes her neck just enough to claim James’s lips, freeing one hand so her arm can band around his neck, pulling him closer and eventually twisting their positions so she’s the one left free to move about and explore. As she lingers at the water color tattoo of an Earth sunrise over his heart - he says its the colors of her - Lily murmurs, “Mmm I’m glad to have aided in your growth.”

“You aid a couple areas of growth for me,” James drawls, wriggling his brows.

“Wow - James,” Lily definitely starts off sassy, but then James’s fingers tickle up along her spine and it’s all over.

And James knows it, because he’s definitely smirking, giving her that look that started this whole thing rolling when he stepped - sauntered - on board eighteen months ago. “You married me.”

Lily follows his prompting and sits back as he sits forward, “I - ,” his lips settle over hers and she nearly loses the train of her sentence, but not quite, “did.”

James nips at her ear. “Maybe a little bit because you found that growth…interesting.”

Humming, Lily lets her palms slide to his shoulders and shoves him gently back toward the pillows and tosses her hair, triumphant, “I do find men accepting female authority fascinating.”

James’s grin is brighter than the aurora, at least to Lily. “Why don’t you show me some of that female authority just to really seal the lesson.”

[gryffindormischief]

[gryffindormischief]

Harry kissing ginny in the front of their freshly renovated Godric's Hollow house.

Maybe for ginny's birthday, which was a few days ago...

[gryffindormischief]

artist

A/N: I WILL CATCH UP lol

@jilymicrofics

“Which one did you pick?”

Lily forces the scowl from her face, though her eyes stay pinned to the tip of her foam brush as she drags it down the side of the plywood. “‘Hallo-Welcome’ sign with bats.”

The first response is a chuckle and then her new painting class BFF answers her unasked question, “Solid choice. I went for ‘Hello BOO-tiful’ with ghosts.”

She can’t stop the snort that comes in answer and she finally looks up to find her BFF is actually a little bit gorgeous in an annoying, effortless way. And yet she’s still unable to flirt in a way that’s not combative. “Are you some kind of expert then?”

He grins and ruffles his slightly too messy for a boyband hair. “Nah, just a casual observer of seasonal pun decor.”

Her attraction and annoyance are now comfortably at a 70/30 ratio. And to be fair, the annoyance is at least 17% due to the setting regardless of company. “So you come here a lot?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth she winces. How did we go from snarky annoyed flirting to the old ‘come here often’ bit. Ratio now at 60/40 and less and less of it is BFF’s fault. “I - ”

“That was smooth bat girl.”

“Thanks ghost boy. But really, are you a commercial crafting person?”

He laughs again and Lily’s a little annoyed at how gratified it makes her feel. Maybe 80/20 gratified to annoyed. She’s also about tot 90% sure that she’s using statics to avoid her feelings.

“I got a gift card,” he shrugs, “My mum thinks I need to explore my hidden artistic side.”

“How’s it going?”

“I think paint by numbers would’ve been better, so far my inner artist is struggling to follow instructions.”

He lifts his BOO-tiful sign which so far says ‘BO’ in slightly wiggling letters. Likely unintentionally wiggly letters.

“First class though, right?”

BFF frowns and shakes his head in mock shame, “My third. Mum really invested in my ‘gift.’”

Lily grimaces, “You need to gift the finished works to her - she needs a wake up call.”

“I did.”

“No luck?”

“She’s talking like she’s going to buy me more,” BFF ruffles his hair again before swiping another stroke of too bright orange along the side of his sign. 

“You need to start picking more difficult stuff - really showcase your - ahem - talents.”

“You are brilliant er - I can’t keep calling you bat girl,” BFF blows out a long breath and then grins, all previous signs of nervousness gone, “Especially if I’m going to ask you on a date.”

[gryffindormischief]

made with love

[gryffindormischief]

social media

A/N: this counts as Jily, yes?

@jilymicrofics

Lily Evans liked your photo  

James is mid doom scroll when the notification pops up and his brain, previously dulled by the blue light of said doom school shorts out.

He spends an indeterminate but probably absurd amount of time staring at the entry on his notifications list, somewhere between panic and absolute glee at the idea that Lily Evans is poking around on his Instagram. 

Eventually, he decides to follow the link so he can determine which photo struck her fancy. Maybe the one with Sirius’s new puppy - he looks relatively fit and it conveys his cuddly soft side which Peter says girls like. 

Or maybe it’s that post work out one from last week that makes him glad his mum isn’t on Instagram to comment and say he looks too skinny and needs to hydrate if he’s sweating so much. She doesn’t need to be - after twenty five years of life, he had the conversation in the first seconds after he took the photo.

With slightly trembling fingers he taps the link and his previous cheery nervousness turns to absolute mortification. Normally your crush liking a photo from four years ago is a beautiful moment. Instead it’s the worst possible case scenario. Shit.

Quickly, he swipes to call Sirius and doesn’t even let him finish whatever greeting was coming before he blurts, “SHE SAW THE PERM PICTURE,” James takes a steadying breath and now his voice is eerily calm. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Why did you even leave that one up?”

“Because I am bad at the internet. I tried to delete a picture once and almost deleted my whole account.”

“A tragedy.”

“I have all the cute puppy post saved.”

Sirius sighs and James can imagine he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like their chem professor used to, “Why are you calling me?”

“You’re the one who convinced me it was a good idea.”

The laugh that comes from Sirius spikes James’s heart-rate. He needs to punch something. Or eat something crunchy. “You’re the one who believed me for two weeks.”

He fumes for a second and pulls a bag of stale pretzel rods from the pantry. “How am I going to bounce back from this?”

“Say it was a wig,” Sirius says in that ‘your problem is a non-problem stop boring me’ way that has James snapping another pretzel in half. 

“Not sustainable you would out me in a second.”

“Yes I would.”

James begins a circuit of his flat, pretzel bag tucked under his arm, “This isn’t helping my Lily problem.”

After a few moments, Sirius sighs again. “It sounds like maybe you have a Lily not-problem.”

“How so?” James asks, desperate and gnawing on a pretzel like a rabbit with a carrot.

Now, Sirius’s previous disinterest melts into his patented cocky drawl, “I dunno that pic is from like at least four years ago.”

James pauses and does the math for himself, wincing when he sees the picture above the timestamp, “Yeah.”

“So she’s back four years on your Instagram,” Sirius prompts, firmly in his ‘you idiot’ voice.

James’s mouth opens and closes, the pretzels dropping from his arm. 

“It’s the old ‘all press is good press.’”

Convincing though the argument is, James can’t help but think this isn’t going to resolve in his favor. “I dunno she might have seen it, laughed, liked it, and then thought ‘hm I could never song a person who had that hair’, right?”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have that hair.”

“Dunno you could be snagging someone and remember something awful and then it ruins the whole thing - wait.”

“She dm’d you didn’t she?”

And somehow, Sirius’s gloating can’t overpower the joy of seeing Lily’s little icon next to her message, ‘Want to grab coffee and tell me about the perm?’

[gryffindormischief]

Chapter 20: Sunday, 26 September 1976

Notes:

WE'RE SO BACK. I am so sorry pals. My move took way longer than expected, but I'm safely moved in. Everything is pretty much done now expect my library! Enjoy this chapter to catch you up to things you might have forgotten...plus new things :)

Sunday, 26 September 1976

Oi. I’ve had three visions in the last twenty-four hours. Three.

A lace ribbon tied into brown hair, snapping and fluttering in the wind in front of me.

A thin woman in a plaid skirt standing on a hillside, her laughter carried away by the breeze as she leaned into a bearded man beside her.

A man with striking blue eyes and a shock of red hair, his arms clamped tightly around a woman with wild, bushy curls. She was sobbing, wrenching forward, reaching for someone—or something—just beyond where I could not see.

And that’s all. No names. No context. Just scraps—faces I don’t know, places I’ve never been, emotions that don’t belong to me. They blur at the edges, like dreams half-remembered after waking, slipping away the moment I try to hold on. Nothing useful. Nothing I could change, even if I wanted to.

All I could do was sit there, clench my fists, bite the inside of my cheek, and wait them out until they finally released me. Each one leaves me drained, hollowed, like something has siphoned a piece of me away. And for what? For fragments I can’t even make sense of.

It’s maddening.

I keep telling myself it’ll make sense one day. That I’ll understand why I see what I do. But right now, it just feels like being trapped inside other people’s futures without permission. Like stumbling into a person I was never supposed to meet.

I really, really hope I can go to America this summer. More than anything, I need someone who actually understands what this is. Someone who can teach me how to step sideways out of these fractured timelines instead of tumbling headfirst into them. I’m tired of being dragged along. I want to choose when and where I look. 

I want to stop time bending me out of shape.

Because at the moment? 

I’m not living in the present. 

Not properly. 

It’s like I’m forever half a step out of rhythm, slipping between what is and what might be . And if I don’t learn how to anchor myself soon, I’m terrified I’ll end up missing everything that’s right in front of me—moments I can’t afford to lose.

I’ve had to be so careful around James. He’s far too sharp for his own good, and I’m fairly certain he noticed the last time I drifted off. We were in Potions of all places on Friday…trust me to slip into a trance while I’m meant to be chopping shrivelfigs. How was I supposed to explain that sometimes the fumes blur the edges of my mind until I can’t tell where the classroom ends and the vision begins?

It’s always worse before the full moon. I don’t know why. Maybe the pull of it tugs at my magic, frays the threads that keep me grounded. But I’ve had more visions in Slughorn’s dungeon than anywhere else. The air’s always thick down there, heavy with steam and smoke, and it’s as if my mind just… unravels. I can feel myself going…losing my sense of self, slipping into some version of tomorrow while everyone else is busy bottling antidotes.

And James. Fuck if he doesn’t notice everything . Those eyes of his are used to scanning the quidditch pitch and making split second decisions to win. Lately, I’ve been his prize. Those eyes rarely leave me alone when we’re in the same room, even if I am on the other side of it.

I’ve still got three weeks until the full moon, and already the edges of things are fraying. The pressure builds early, a slow tightening in my chest and temples, like the world’s winding me up on some invisible string. By the end of the cycle, it’ll snap, and I’ll be stumbling headlong into visions whether I want them or not.

Professor Lipton, in her infinite wisdom, suggested (quite seriously) that it might be best if I avoided snogging James for the time being. Apparently “heightened emotional states” make it easier to lose control and slip forward into the stream. She said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world, like she was advising me to cut down on sugar before bed.

She also found it hilarious . Laughed herself half-sick at the idea that I can’t so much as kiss a boy without glimpsing some blurred, half-formed version of his future. “Most girls worry about garlic breath, Lily,” she said. “You worry about accidentally seeing the poor lad at forty.”

And I wanted to laugh with her, I did. But it doesn’t feel funny. Not when James is mine, here, now, warm and grinning and so achingly present . Not when every time he leans in, I have to steel myself, pull back just enough to keep from falling headlong into some vision of what may or may not be. It’s cruel, really. The simplest thing and I risk tumbling out of the moment, out of us, into tomorrow. Then I’m left clutching at scraps, fragments of what’s real, like sand slipping through my fingers.

Dumbledore told me once that my visions are possibilities , not certainties. Branches on a tree, twisting out into the dark, some strong, some withering before they ever bear fruit. I do believe him—I mean, he’s Dumbledore. The cleverest, wisest wizard alive. Everyone says so. And if anyone understands fate, reality, and magic, it’s him.

…But.

They don’t feel like harmless branches when I’m in them. They feel like echoes that have already rung out, shadows pressing in whether I want them to or not. Not just whispers of what might be , but something more solid, more insistent.

And James Potter’s death (or what I think was his death) wasn’t just a flicker in the dark. It was like standing in front of the Killing Curse itself. The weight of it settled into my bones, cold and unshakable, as if the future was forcing my eyes open, screaming at me to watch . As if this wasn’t just a possibility, but something nearer to truth. 

And that notion, it terrifies me.

But I have to trust the process. That’s what Dumbledore says.

It’s not foretold.

It’s not fixed.

It’s just a fortune.

Nothing more.

My visions are likely as flimsy as those women in their velvet booths at the Muggle carnivals when I was little. Petunia and I used to queue up with sticky fingers from toffee apples and pockets stuffed with penny sweets, daring each other to have our palms read. The women would peer at us through clouds of incense, squint into our hands, and mutter about long lives and tall, dark strangers. Petunia always rolled her eyes, laughed at me for being so gullible, and spent the rest of the night reminding me how daft I was for half-believing any of it.

They never knew, of course, that they were tracing the palm of a real Seer.

A girl already brushing against fate like it was a thread tugging the mind somewhere only the soul could wander.

It would be downright hilarious if I went back to one of those penny-ticket carnivals over the summer and asked for another fortune. Imagine their faces if I sat down, let them mutter and wave their hands over mine, then turned it round on them—actually read their palms. Proper palmistry. Not the flimsy rubbish they used to spin for a queue of children with candyfloss stuck in their hair.

Maybe I ought to practise.

Really learn it.

I bet I could get James to let me hold his hand for an extended period of time. 

Though, that would likely spark questions. 

HA. 

That’s the thing, though, I’m meant to be learning Runes anyway. Dumbledore and Professor Lipton won’t stop going on about “symbolic convergence” and “interdisciplinary divination” as if saying it fancier makes it any less tedious. Apparently, all those scratches and sigils connect to palmistry, and even scrying, if you dig far enough into the theory. Which is lovely. Truly.

Except for the fact that I can’t stand Runes.

Naturally, James is a master at them. Of course he is. He’s in the advanced class, which is usually reserved for seventh-years, but apparently exceptions are made for golden boys with messy hair and too much charm. Professor Vector absolutely adores him, goes on about his brilliance like she’s narrating a bedtime story to lull the rest of us into a coma. She even mentioned him in my introductory Runes class last class. She held his paper up like a shining example while I was sitting right there in the front row, actively failing the subject.

It was excruciating.

I’d love to tease James about it, I would, but the second I try he’ll only grin and turn it back on me. He’ll remind me, smug as anything, that if I hate the class so much I might've dropped it when I had the chance. I’ve resorted to claiming McGonagall bungled my schedule. Which—fine—is a bald-faced lie. James doesn't need to know that.

The truth is that Dumbledore and Lipton shoved me into Runes whether I liked it or not.

“For your own good,” they said. “To prepare you for your future.”

As though my future is already planned. 

Which, if I want to use my powers to help fight in the war, I guess it already is. 

Meanwhile, I am unequivocally flunking the Runes course. It's the first time I've flunked anything since first year. I’m sure Vector knows it, too. That bitch gives me this tight-lipped look whenever she hands back my parchment, like she can’t quite decide if I’m hopeless or just not trying hard enough. And of course, she goes on about James again, my bloody housemate, my boyfriend, my benchmark. As if to rub salt in it. “See, Miss Evans? Look what Mr Potter is capable of.”

Yeah, lady, I get it.

My boyfriend is brilliant. 

It drives me up the wall. 

I haven’t told James I’m failing, by the way. The thought of him clocking my abysmal marks and flashing that mischievous little grin—the one that says finally, Evans, I’ve got something over you—might just finish me off. Academics have always been my thing, the one area I could lord over him, and I’ll be damned if I let him discover he’s suddenly the clever one in the relationship. No, thank you. I’m clinging to the faint hope that a miracle on the next exam will bump me up into the realm of competence, and then I can pretend none of this ever happened.

Speaking of my brilliant boyfriend…

I haven’t seen that arse since breakfast, and now it’s well past dinner. Not just him either, all the boys are missing. It’s as though they’ve vanished into thin air. Maybe that’s why the silence has been pressing on me so heavily today. Empty corridors, an empty common room, even the Great Hall felt bleak without the four of them to fill it with noise. Dinner was just me picking at shepherd’s pie, surrounded by clattering cutlery and chatter I wasn’t part of.

Without James tugging faces at me across the table, or Sirius starting some outrageous story, or Remus sliding in dry little quips that make me laugh when I least expect it, there was nothing to distract me.

Nothing except my own bloody visions

…and the constant, gnawing reminder that my friendships with Sarah and Mary are splintering apart.

Shit.

I can’t keep waiting around for Mary to forgive me—or for Sarah to come round—or for the two of them to forgive each other, if that’s even possible anymore. Sitting here on the sidelines, hoping time will stitch everything back together, isn’t working.

But Merlin, the idea of starting over…of nudging my way into someone else’s circle, laughing at the right places, pretending I fit when I don’t…makes me feel sick. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want new friends. I don’t need them. Because, without even realising it, I’ve already made some. Thanks to James.

And (I can’t quite believe I’m admitting this) I like them.

Sirius is quieter than I ever expected. Not quiet in the sense of silence, he’s as quick with a joke or a smirk as James is...but underneath it, he’s surprisingly methodical. His magic’s sharp, precise. He notices details most people miss. He spends almost as much time at my side as James does these days, and I can’t deny we’ve found a rhythm of our own in a little less than a week. We’ve connected over Muggle music—Fleetwood Mac, mostly. And when he reads—which is often—it’s magazines, pulp stories, scraps he picks up along the way. But it’s comforting. Familiar. It’s nice to have someone to read alongside, even if our tastes are not similar since I'm still nicking smutty romance novels from Professor Lipton.

If Sirius is a surprise, Remus is exactly what I imagined…and yet not. He tiptoes round me most of the time, only speaking when he has to, polite and careful, as if he’s measuring his words before they leave his mouth. But I can see it, the way he watches James and Sirius like they’re the sun, and he’s a planet caught in their orbit. Always calculating what they’ll do next, not because he doesn’t already know, but so he can stay one step ahead. He’s steady, patient, endlessly observant. The kind of friend who doesn’t need to fill silences.

And then there’s Peter. Sweet, chatty Peter, who never seems to stop talking. I thought it would annoy me, at first, but it’s almost endearing. I’ve learnt more about him in a week than I know about James in six years. Like the fact he’s allergic to cows and cats and owls, of all things. Or how his pinky’s bent slightly from when he broke it against the Whomping Willow—on a dare from James, apparently. James denies this, of course, but I believe Peter. If I’m with him, he’s always talking, always filling the space with words, as if silence unsettles him and he has to plaster over it with anecdotes and facts.

And oddly enough, I don’t mind it.

And that’s when it hits me.

I don’t want new friends at all.

I want my friends.

The ones I’ve already got.

Even if they’re not the ones I expected.

I want the boys.

Because they’re entertaining. They’re clever and funny and endlessly good company. With them, I can just…be me. No pretence, no forcing myself into a laugh that doesn’t fit, no waiting for someone to remember I exist. Just…me. If I can’t have Sarah or Mary—not right now, maybe not ever—then I’ll take James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter at my side.

Because with them, I don’t feel quite so alone.

And Merlin, I hope they feel the same about me.

No—that’s not true. I don’t just hope it.

I want it.

I want them to feel the same about me, to think of me as theirs the way I’ve started to think of them as mine. Not just James’s girlfriend, not just the girl tagging along, but part of the lot of them. One of the group. Because the truth is, even if James and I don’t last—even if my visions are wrong, and everything unravels before I’m ready—I’d still care. I’d care if the boys never came back into my life. I’d care if one day I looked up and they’d drifted away, back into their own little world, and I was left outside it again.

I am so tired of my friends—the people I’ve cared about—leaving me behind.

It feels like a pattern I can’t break. 

Petunia, who once plaited my hair on summer afternoons and shared sweets with me under the covers, now won’t even look me in the eye half the time.

Severus Snape, who was the first person to tell me what I was, who showed me the magic in my own blood, now looks at me like I’m the enemy—like I betrayed him, when all I ever did was beg him not to lose himself to Death Eaters and purebloods.

William Kedlig, who sat beside me in first-year and lent me a quill when mine broke, who used to laugh at my terrible jokes, who held the library door open for me every week...he'd probably hex me with a smile on his face after our horrible break up. He was another name on the list of people who decided I wasn’t worth keeping.

And now Mary. Sarah. My girls. My dorm-mates. The people I thought I’d have in my corner for life.

I can’t stop thinking about how quickly it can all vanish.

That’s why I know I’d regret it. Truly regret it....if I let the boys slip through my fingers, if I didn’t hold onto them with everything I have. I’d regret not asking them to dinner with me, regret not dragging them down to the lake when the weather turned soft, regret not insisting they come with me to Hogsmeade and share butterbeers until we laughed ourselves breathless.

I’d regret not choosing them, while I still had the choice to choose them.

Because I think I want them in my life for good. Not just for now. Not just because they fill the silence. But because they make me feel like I belong. Because when I am with them, I don’t feel forgotten, shifting through futures that aren't mine. 

And I am so bloody tired of being left behind in the past, when all I can see is the future. 

[gryffindormischief]

driver

@jilymicrofics

James is currently circling a golf bag, eyeing it like a puzzle that also might be a poisonous snake. “Which one is the driver again?”

There’s a pause as Lily’s eyes flick from her phone screen, to the bag, and then back to the phone. After a few circuits, she lifts the most bulbous club with a frown. “The internet says this one.”

“And I start with that one? Is that why it had the little fluffy badger head on it?”

Lily drops back into James’s worn out armchair as her brow furrows. She scrolls more. “Unless they’re playing whatever a scramble is.”

“What the fuck do eggs have to do with it?” James asks, tugging a club free at random and wielding it more like a sword than a golf club.

“Its a weird game thing,” Lily says, unhelpful as her focus has now shifted to batting James’s new stainless steel weapon away from her face, ” - also easy with that we still have to give these back to Benjy.”

“I thought golf was the game,” James groans, slotting the club back in place and pulling the maybe driver from the bag.

“Let’s just focus on mechanics,” Lily says, squaring her shoulders and tossing her phone blindly in the direction of the couch. 

“Why do I even have to golf?”

“You don’t,” Lily answers easily as she grabs a club - a probably not the driver- and attempts to mimic the diagram she’d studied, “But you’re trying to get your boss to give your department more funding - is that still the goal?”

“Alright alright,” James sighs, “I just like non-handsy sports.”

“I really wish Sirius was here to handle that.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

James grunts and readjusts, back slightly arched, fingers laced together a bit clumsily, and does the little foot shuffle thing the pros always seem to be doing. 

Though the stance is not deemed up to par by Lily who frowns and circles him, fiddling with his hands, ”No here let me - “

The club falls from James’s fingers and he gets a blustery, hopefully avoiding any notice of his flushed cheeks. “You’re not a bloody expert.”

“I’m closer than you are.”

James uses his foot to tip the club vertically and grabs the handle again. “From watching half a video”

Lily quirks a brow and reaches for her phone where it lays hidden on the couch. “I can leave…”

Gasping, James lurches forward and grabs her wrist. “No please.”

Something in his tone or his face must be desperate enough to keep her from fleeing. She offers him a nod and disappears into the kitchen. When Lily returns, she’s wielding the footstool generally used for hanging decorations for Halloween and Christmas. Otherwise it’s a place for Sirius to sit and jeer while James attempts to cook for himself. 

Lily sets it down and herds James until he’s standing in front of her. “Assume the position.”

“So you can?”

“Spank you Potter,” she flicks his ear and it’s probably best that they’re physically incapable of eye contact at the moment.

James blows out a long breath and resumes his earlier stance, trying to recall the correct finger placement while Lily climbs up on the stool and reaches around so her chest lies along his spine and her fingers can grip his forearms, “You gotta swing like - “

Before she can finish her sentence a few things happen in quick succession and yet feel like everything has somehow been put in slow motion - the front door slams open, James jolts and twists around, releasing the club but grabbing Lily’s legs, while Lily somehow manages to keep hold of the club and knock half of James’s pictures from the wall over the couch.

James completes their spin toward the intruder and they present like some sort of four armed monstrosity ready to tussle. 

Instead of a robber or kidnapper, they find Sirius staring, aviators perched on the edge of his nose so his grey eyes can fully take in the scene. He sighs. “You know if I walked in on you shagging it would’ve been better.”

Lily drops the club and wraps her arms around James’s shoulders. “Obviously, we’re hot.”

[gryffindormischief]

Stomach bugs and coffee dates (ao3)

Written using @jilymicrofics' August Prompt no.12: STEM (Vet Lily Evans) James' cat Elvendork is sick. James enlists the help of Lily Evans.

Whatsapp Group Chat

Members: James, Peter, Remus, Sirius

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 13:42

====================

Sirius: @James I think your cat is sick

James: ??

Sirius: He was just slumped over the whole time I was there

Didn’t even move when I used the drill

James: Oh no

How is he now?

Sirius: He was on your bed when I left

James: You left?!

Sirius: You told me to leave once the table was done

James: But dorky is sick!

Oh come on padfoot

Remus: I’m sure he’s fine, mate. Let us know how he is when you get home.

Whatsapp Group Chat

Members: James, Peter, Remus, Sirius

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 15:20

====================

James: He didn’t greet me at the door

He’s still on the bed

Remus: Ah dear

James: Table looks good though. Thanks

Sirius: Cheers

Did he eat? I filled his bowl before I left

James: No, it’s full

What’s the matter??

Peter: Ask your girlfriend

James: Who?

Sirius: She’s not his girlfriend

Remus: She’s not his girlfriend.

Sirius: But yes ask Evans

James: Oh

Evans

Evans is not my girlfriend

Peter: sure

James: He’s awake now brb

Private Whatsapp Chat

Members: James, Lily

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 16:00

====================

James: Hey Evans, I think you’ll be off duty now. If not, sorry for the trouble

Need a favour

Whatsapp Group Chat

Members: James, Peter, Remus, Sirius

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 16:10

====================

James: I feel weird texting Evans about this

Is this weird?

Remus: Not at all, you’re just asking a friend.

James: Yeah

Remus: What did she say?

James: She didn’t see the message

Which is why I’m not sure if i should be asking her this, I feel like I’m taking advantage

Remus: Don’t be daft. You’re just overthinking.

James: Am I??

Private Whatsapp Chat

Members: James, Lily

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 16:40

====================

Lily: James! Hi, What’s the matter

I just saw your text I’m sorry

James: Heyy no problem

I just wanted to ask you something

Lily: Ask me then

James: I think Elvendork is sick. He wouldn’t get out of my bed

Sirius said he’s been like that since morning, and I’m worried

Lily: Aww Dorky!

Is he running a fever?

James: I don’t think so

Lily: Did he eat anything?

James: I gave him a piece of bacon but it’s all over my bed now

Half digested

Lily: Oh poor thing

James: And he keeps making this face that has me on my toes constantly

He threw up only once but he keeps making this face

Like from that meme

Lily:

James: Exactly

You have no idea how much I needed that laugh

And how much I admire your ability to find the exact meme I referred to

Lily: Haha thank you

It sounds like he just has a stomach bug.

James: A stomach bug?

Lily: Yeah

James: That’s all?

Lily: Yeah!

Why don’t you bring him up to the clinic, so we could run some tests and have someone watch him overnight?

James: Thank you so much

God I’m so relieved

Lily: I bet

James: Thank you, Lily

Lily: Ofcourse!

I’m still at the clinic btw

If you could bring Dorky now, I’ll explain things to a friend before I leave

James: Awesome, I’ll be there very soon.

You’re amazing, Evans

Whatsapp Group Chat

Members: James, Peter, Remus, Sirius

Tuesday 12th August, 2025 - 18:02

====================

James: It was just a stomach bug

Dorky is fine now

He’s at the clinic for the night, just in case

And I’m on a coffee date with Lily Evans

[gryffindormischief]

The temptation to write a Jily baking oneshot named Loafing Him Was Bread is too much! Even if it’s just because @petalsonparchment and I would love it.

[gryffindormischief]

vampire

@jilymicrofics

“I’m just saying, if you’re consuming blood it doesn’t matter if it comes from humans or rabbits it’s still not vegetarian.”

James settles his glasses back on his nose - new streaks of rain are inevitable but it’s good to start fresh at least - and steps behind Lily to let the flow of sidewalk traffic stream past them more smoothly. Once he’s back at her side, they take a turn down a winding, cobbled path with less pedestrians. “And I’m just saying that might not be the way to get a thousand year old vampiress to give us information on the black market trade in her territory.”

Lily tugs her knit cap lower on her brow and tucks her hands back in her pockets. “I suppose not. I just hate this bit.”

“Edinburgh vampire gangs?”

“The deal-making.” Lily sighs and steps around crates blocking half the path, “I know, she’s comparatively alright.”

“S’not saying much,” James chuckles darkly, “I get it.”

“And it helps make things a little better, even infinitesimally. So it’s worth the effort.”

“Doesn’t feel like it when they gloat though ,” James says with another laugh, they always gloat, “Just to clarify - are you convincing me or yourself?”

“Maybe she won’t - and honestly myself.”

“Sure and maybe you’ll manage to beat me in 500 Rummy.”

“Wow I’m already low and you kick me while I’m down. No wonder Sirius moved to a desk job.”

“Or any Rummy for that matter,” James continues, thoughtful as if she hadn’t interrupted. He does pause for effect, drawing Lily to a halt beside him, “Also be clear, Sirius doesn’t like fieldwork because it messes with his Doc Martens.”

“That’s insane Doc - who am I to argue with Sirius, eh?” Lily shrugs and instead of a laugh, their eyes catch, merry in the dim light despite their less than enjoyable evening activities. Her voice is quiet when she finally returns to the thread of their conversation, “There’s more to life than Rummy.” Not quite the main thread, but close enough.

“Yeah,” James ruffles his hair and smirks, “Like bargaining with fake vegetarian vampires.”

Finally smiling back, Lily posits a new theory, “Maybe she eats plant based blood like you know the pea protein fake meats?”

James is already shaking his head before she finishes voicing her thought, “Okay, but if they could eat pea protein then - ”

“That was an example jeez, Potter I’m saying - ”

“I know what you’re saying and if you need to believe she’s eating pea protein to make this work…” James trails off, tone definitely firmly in the mocking zone.

“Stuff it,” Lily grumbles, shoving him with her shoulder. 

She lets the touch linger, and he does too, the warm barely there press of their arms as comfortable as the silence between them.

After they cross another street and dance around the glassy puddles, James speaks up again, “Want to get a pint after?” He doesn’t say after what. They’ve discussed as much as either cares to - now, in the moment, none of that will change anything.

“Cottage pie?

“Obviously.’

“You’re distracting me on purpose,” Lily states, it’s not a question as she looks at him, smile soft.

“Half my job, Evans.”

With a dramatically begrudging sigh, Lily tilts her head in acceptance. “I’ll allow it. Though there are other ways to distract me,” Lily says with a thoughtful, almost academic tone. James trips over nothing. 

Before he can respond Lily turns to him and winks, “And we’re here!”

[gryffindormischief]

STEM

A/N: tryyyinnnngg - hoping to give you vampire today too ahh

All of these are on Ao3 :)

@jilymicrofics

He’s been watching the gorgeous red head for at least a quarter of an hour - it sounds creepy. But they’re at a mixer at a STEM convention for nerdy space doctors - his special term for it - and she looks so familiar. And also beautiful. “That whole Pluto thing was messed up, yeah?”

Red head snorts into her champagne. “How did Pluto become your pick up line?”

“Astronomers aren’t really known for their game,” James says, a bit defensive, but in a charming way he’s hoping, as he guides them toward the least picked over of the hors d'oeuvres tables so he can snatch one of the puff pastries bites. One or five. He’s an underpaid academic and he’s hungry.

That earns giggle from red head while she makes a move to snatch a couple of crostinis. “That’s not really an explanation.” She crunches into the first and he’s now losing in enjoyment and interesting-ness to a tiny piece of toasted bread with olive tapenade. It’s not a total horror show, they are quite delicious. At least he knows his enemy. Crostinis don’t speak space nerd.

“I needed to turn my pain into a positive?” Not his best move but it’s chess not checkers.

“You’re - ” James drops his eyes to her name tag, “Dr. Evans - Astrobiology. That’s brill....are you the bacteria Evans?”

“Any other woman would find that insulting.”

“I didn’t get to the whole article yet but the section on Earth bacteria’s impact on -”

“You know this is a way more effective come on than the Pluto thing.”

James leans in close, “That was my in.”

Dr. Evans snatches a puff pastry from James’s plate and pops it in her mouth. She washes it down with a swallow of champagne. “Why didn’t you finish?”

She’s leaning in too. She smells amazing - something that smells like dessert and a flower. He’s not a sommelier. “Your headshot - I was reading the article - why am I answering you?”

“I’m very soothing and exude trustworthiness.”

“I - “ Something about her grin has his heart pounding but he’s still at ease, like she’s already on board, no more moves necessary. “Er- that’ll help when you’re our representative to the extra terrestrials.” He’s still going to whip them out though.

[gryffindormischief]

Your Jily microfics are giving me so much life!! THANK YOU!!!!

THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!!!!

I felt like ok maybe im just doing this because I am having fun but if at least one other person is also having a good time then we're winning

idk what to do with vampire im not really a vampire girlie stay tuned lol (also don't worry STEM is in the works)