#thank you mr darby for your brain it speaks to me

[flamingostalker]

Everybody say “thank you weird man”💖🫡

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Chapters 7-8

Moments Masterpost

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice probably best to read that first. Read previous chapters of this fic here and here. In these chapters, James & his mum meet the Bridgerton family and Benedict makes a decision.

Word Count: 4.3k (these chapters only, 12.2k total for all chapters to date)

Warnings: none really - pining, fluff, humour, touch of angst. Ratings/warnings will increase in future chapters.

Authors note: I hope you all enjoy the latest adventures of little James Darby. Thanks as ever to @makaylan for her fantastic betaing and advice. Couldn't do this without you lady <3

Chapter 7: Moments from a family visit

Your carriage pulls up the long drive to Aubrey Hall, and your heart leaps. What a beautiful building, resplendent in flowers and vines. James leans forward excitedly, huffing mist onto the glass as he peers at the approaching house.

“Is this where Benedict lives?” he asks excitedly.

“It's his family's country home, darling, like Darby Hall is our family home. But it is not his; I believe he has his own cottage. Just like we do.”

“Oh, ok,” he nods, understanding better. “Can we see his cottage? I bet he has so many paints! Oh, mama, please? Can we? Can we?”

You huff a laugh. “Darling, I don't think his cottage is that near to here; I believe it is down in Wiltshire. This is Kent - that is a long way away.”

“Oh,” he looks a little deflated.

“But I'm sure Benedict has plenty of painting supplies right here,” you add, seeing James instantly brighten at that. “You like Mr Bridgerton, don't you?” you venture, a little trepidatious.

“He likes painting as much as me, so he is my favourite person ever,” James smiles gleefully as if that is the full measure of a man. “Except you, Mama,” he adds as a charming afterthought. The adorable little rascal.

“What would you say if I told you he wanted to spend more time with you?” you ask carefully, “not just painting,” you add as James goes to speak.

His mien turns thoughtful. “Why would I spend time with him other than to paint Mama?” he asks - a perfectly reasonable question.

“He is a… very special friend to me, from a long time ago. And a friend of mine must be a friend of yours too, James.” you reason. “Or the… friendship… cannot be.”

“He is very nice, Mama,” he says, looking far away. “Issy told me about him in a dream.”

“Who is Issy, my love?” you ask, wracking your brain for someone with that name.

“You haven't met her yet, Mama,” he says breezily.  

You can't think of a single person he knows you have not met, so you just assume it's one of his imaginary friends. He has such a rich imagination you marvel at him sometimes - every day, raising this child is a new adventure.

Your carriage pulling to a halt outside the main entrance has your mind turning to your hosts. Butterflies roar as you see the entire Bridgerton family emerge from the doorway. Chief amongst them, Benedict. He is all you can see as the footman opens the carriage and holds out an expectant hand for you to descend. The urge to run and fling yourself into his arms alarms you - a person of comfort in a sea of mostly new, expectant faces.

“Lady Darby,” Violet greets warmly as you step out. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you reply, “thank you so much for inviting me early to spend time at your beautiful family home.”

“Please call me Violet,” she says.

“Then it's y/n, for everyone,” you insist, looking around politely.

Anthony steps forward with his beautiful wife “Apologies, my lord.” you correct yourself. “This is actually your home as the Viscount, isn't it?”

“Indeed, but my mother has always been best at leading introductions,” he smiles warmly. “Lady Darby, this is my wife, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, it's been years, and I'm still not used to that title,” she says with a slight comic frown, “Please call me Kate.” warmly shaking your hand.

You see out of the corner of your eye Benedict is hovering expectantly, almost shyly, off to the side, slightly behind them.

James comes leaping out of the carriage behind you. “Benedict!” he cries happily and practically launches himself at the man. On instinct, Benedict crouches down to hug James.

That is rather a conversation stopper as everyone’s eyes crane to watch the young boy.

“That… is my son, James,” you say apologetically, “he has umm, been receiving art lessons from Mr Bridgerton,” you offer by way of explanation.

Violet has an enigmatic smile as she tears her sights away from James and back to you.

“He is a talented artist?” she inquires politely, but you feel there may be more to her question.

“Well, he is only five years old….” you begin.

“He's a master in the making,” Benedict finds his voice, “aren’t you, James?”

James nods happily, holding onto Benedict’s leg as he straightens back to standing.

You feel everyone looking at you, James, Benedict and back. A lot of thoughts behind silent eyes.

“Shall we head inside?” Violet announces. “You can meet everyone else later. I'm sure it's been a long journey from London, and you would like to freshen up and rest before dinner.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you reply, reaching your hand for James, making brief but meaningful eye contact with Benedict. He gives you a reassuring nod and smile.

“Come here, James,” you call gently when he doesn't move.

“I’d like to stay with Benedict,” James announces, grabbing his arm. “Mama said you might have some paint here,” he looks up hopefully.

Benedict huffs a laugh. “Maybe later, James, go with your mummy for now. I will see you at dinner, okay?”

James looks ponderous and then agrees reluctantly, “Okay.”

“What a delightful child,” Kate murmurs as you ascend the staircase into the house, “he has very striking eyes,” she adds a little too pointedly, with a smile you know has more meaning. 

You know. You just know she has already figured this out; she seems too fiercely intelligent not to have.

“Thank you” is all you can say. 

This is Benedict’s announcement to make to his family if he chooses to. You wouldn't blame him if he didn't; they seem quite a formidable bunch, friendly but rambunctious when gathered together. What a day this could prove to be.

___

By the time you appear for dinner, you are refreshed and ready to face what could be a gauntlet. No doubt there have been precious few other topics of conversation, but the young widow with the little boy who ran straight to Benedict. 

“Lady Darby,” Violet gestures, “you and James are sat down here with me”. You take your seats and realise Benedict is opposite you, next to his mother. His eyes meet yours over the table, and he smiles. 

You itch to ask him what his plan is for this dinner. You really don’t want him admitting to being James’ father while he is in earshot.

You are introduced to the remainder of the family around the dinner table, minus Daphne and her husband and child, who you’re told will arrive the following day. 

Conversation flows spiritedly as appetisers are served. It’s unusual that all the children, including Kate and Anthony’s eldest son, who is three, are also at the table, but you’re glad James can join in. Experience what it’s like to be a part of a social evening. It’s been just the two of you for so long that you’re worried he will become anxious around other people. Luckily he seems unphased and engaged with everyone. Like his father, he can have an easy-going natural charm when he wants to. He has Eloise and Kate wrapped around his little fingers in no time. 

“Benedict, can we paint tomorrow?” James calls out across the table as dessert is served. The conversation seems to quieten suddenly.

“If it’s okay with your mummy, yes, I think so, James,” Benedict answers, “if the weather is good, perhaps we can paint outside again.”

“That would be so nice!” James chimes, “I really like the easel you gave me. I’ve painted so many things with it.”

“You bought James an easel, my love?” Violet inquires gently, touching Benedict’s wrist, “Do you do that for all of your art students?”

“No, mother, just the very talented ones,” he replies, attempting nonchalance but coming out somewhat awkwardly.

Violet hums and takes a bite of dessert, then turns to your son.

“Tell me, little James, do you collect anything? Perhaps, oh, I don’t know, pressed flowers or something like that?” She glances briefly at Benedict as she asks.

“Yes!” James chimes, “I collect rocks! From places I visit, or when I see one in a pretty colour.”

“That’s fascinating!” Violet enthuses.

You look over and see Benedict staring at James open-mouthed. You'd neglected to mention that little inheritance. Frankly, there are so many similarities you almost wouldn't know where to begin.

“And what a coincidence! My lovely second son here used to do the exact same thing as a child, didn’t you, darling?” she pats Benedict’s hand affectionately but pointedly.

“He still does,” it has slipped out of your mouth over your wineglass before you’ve even engaged a thought.

Oh shit.

It’s hushed around the table now. Benedict's shocked look swaps from your son to you.

Your cheeks burn hot, “…or that’s what he told me,” you mumble mortified, putting down your glass to stab at your dessert. Too little, too late.

You can feel Violet’s eyes on you. An enigmatic smile.

“Benedict, dear, is there anything you wish to share with us?” Violet asks, feigning innocence.

“Perhaps later, mother,” he responds with a pleading look, glancing at James briefly and then back to her.

She pats his hand and smiles, then addresses the whole table. “Come on, eat up, my dears. This delicious gooseberry pie won’t finish itself!”

The buzz of conversation picks up again, and Benedict shoots you a look. You mouth ‘sorry’. This wasn't how you wanted things to go. You decide you have probably had enough wine for the night.

“Benedict, can I see your rock collection, please?” James pipes up as he cleans his plate.

“Yes, James, but sadly, it’s not here,” Benedict explains.

“Is it in Wiltshire? Mummy says that’s where your cottage is. We have a little cottage too, and it’s my most favourite house we own. When can we visit your cottage?”

You almost drop your spoon. If it was quiet before when they conversed, it’s silent now. 

“James, it’s rude to ask for an invitation to someone’s house,” you admonish tacitly. 

“No, not at all. Of course, you are most welcome. You can accompany me to Wiltshire next time I go,” Benedict nods, “I shall invite some other students of mine, make it an artists retreat, as such” you can tell he is covering his tracks a little.

“Fun!” James exclaims. 

Benedict clears his throat as dessert gets cleared away and after-dinner chocolates are placed on the table. “Everyone, I would like to make an announcement later in the drawing room. For just the adults.”

“What? why?” Hyacinth whines, “Why do we always miss out on the best information? I am fifteen now, brother.”

“Yes, and I am sixteen,” pipes up Gregory.

“I'm sorry, are either of those numbers higher than eighteen?” Benedict queries sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at them.

They both groan and cross their arms defensively.

“I'm five,” James announces proudly to the room, half understanding the game but enthusiastic about being included. 

Everyone peals with friendly laughter, and Colin leans over and ruffles his hair affectionately. ��Indeed you are, James.”

James' nanny comes to collect him and take him to bed, just as you all spill into the hallway on your way to the drawing room.

“Goodnight, everybody,” James calls, the little charmer he is.

There is a chorus of goodnight Jameses’. He takes his nanny’s hand, but sudden runs back and hugs you, throwing his hands around your waist. 

“Aww, goodnight, my love,” you whisper lovingly, swaying him a little.

“Goodnight, Mummy,” he looks up at you with his big beautiful eyes, so you lean down and kiss his cheek.

Then he runs straight over to Benedict and hugs his legs.

“Goodnight, Benedict,” his little voice says.

A universe of emotions crosses Benedict’s face, and everyone else freezes in place.

“Goodnight, James,” Benedict replies quietly, patting his hair.

“Can I have a kiss on the cheek, like the other day?” James asks sweetly.

Benedict’s cheeks dust an adorable shade of pink. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise's mouth drop open.

To your utter astonishment, Benedict leans down and hauls James into his arms, placing him on his hip. “It's time for bed, young man,” he lectures softly, then kisses his cheek as requested. “Now, do you need a bedtime story, or will you be able to read one yourself?”

The two of them together are your whole focus. You watch them clutching your chest, not even noticing the eye tennis of the rest of the gathering. 

“I can read all by myself,” James answers proudly, looping his arms around Benedict's neck.

“Well, that's because you are such a smart boy, aren't you?” 

“Yes. Mummy says I get my brain from her,” James replies, and Benedict laughs.

“I don't doubt it for a second.”

“She says I get my charm from my Daddy,” he adds with a winning smile.

Benedict looks over James' shoulder at you, and your cheeks burn. “I bet she did,” he chuckles.

You feel Violet looking at you again.

‘I'll join you all shortly,” Benedict says over his shoulder, giving you a lingering glance, then starts to walk away towards the staircase, James still in his arms. The two of them engaged in a quiet conversation, your nanny following behind them.

“I don't think this announcement he has to make will be much of a surprise, do you?” Colin pipes up cheekily once they are out of earshot.

You'd like the ground to swallow you up right now.

“Colin!” Violet admonishes, “whatever Benedict has to say to us all, his family, will be treated with the utmost respect and sincerity.”

“Yes, mother,” he grumbles dutifully, with an eye-roll.

As everyone drifts into the drawing room, Kate comes over and loops arms. “Pay no mind to my brother-in-law,” she counsels, “You'll get used to him. If you marry a Bridgerton, you’ll have to; they’re sort of a package deal,” she winks.

It's only after you sit down do you realise what she said.

___

Benedict slips into the drawing room about five minutes later and crouches down behind the chair you are seated in as you listen to Eloise rhapsodise about the book she is currently reading.

“I hardly think it’s going to be a surprise now, but I am going to announce James as my child,” he whispers, “I would like you to stand with me if that's alright?”

“Really,” you murmur, “why?”

“Moral support?” he shrugs, and you see a slight tinge of anxiety on his face for the first time.

“Of course,” you offer.

He moves to stand next to your chair and offers his arm. He walks you in front of the fireplace; you feel the literal heat on the back of your legs as you prepare for heated glances from the gathered family.

“Everyone,” he annunciated clearly, “I would like to announce to the family some important news.”

“When’s the big day?” Colin teases. Eloise violently tosses a cushion at him.

“Oh... no… it's not… that” Benedict suddenly looks flustered and drops his arm from yours. You lower your head. Nothing could be further from the reality at the moment, much to your chagrin.

“Tell us then, brother,” Anthony prompts, acting very much the patriarch.

“You all met James earlier, and well, although this can never be public knowledge, I very much wanted you all, my family, to know that… he is my son” his voice wavers a little. “Many of you may remember about six years ago I was… in a relationship with Mrs Darby before she got married to the man she was promised to her whole life,” he rushes to add, “and that resulted in, well, little James.”

He looks over at his mother.

“Mother, I know this is not the ideal way you would want to hear about another grandchild, who is already five years old, but well, I wanted to be truthful with you. And with you all,” he gestures around the room, “I only just met him myself a few days ago, but he is very important to me.” 

Your eyes mist as he speaks plainly but passionately about your son. His son.

“Benedict dear, I am so very happy for you. And another grandson, I am overjoyed, and I look forward to spending so much time getting to know him this week. But, you do realise, this is not exactly the news we were expecting you to announce?” she says gently.

“Whyever not?”Benedict looks shocked.

“Darling, the minute he stepped out of that carriage, I knew. We all knew,” she explains slowly. She gestures at a row of miniatures on the wall depicting all the Bridgerton children. “Do you really think the spitting image of you would not be a total giveaway?”

You are instantly drawn closer to the picture; it looks so much like James you are speechless. 

“This is Benedict?” you gasp.

“Yes, dear, aged seven,” she confirms as you run your fingers reverentially over the miniature painting. He has the same hair, eyes, and face; it's disconcerting how much James looks exactly like his father at a similar age.

“We honestly thought you knew that we knew already. And certainly wouldn't feel the need to announce it so formally,” she chuckles, “Kate and I had already discussed buying him some family blue outfits.”

You steal a glance at Kate, who just smiles and shrugs a shoulder.

“Wait?” Anthony says, standing, “You all knew?” 

All the women in the room nod.

“I didn't,” Colin opines from the couch. “Well, not until he put the little whelp to bed, then I couldn't exactly unsee it.”

“I had no idea,” Anthony remarks, frowning to himself and then looking pointedly at his wife. Her smirk gets even bigger.

“What a surprise, always the men who are the last to cotton on,” Eloise mutters, rolling her eyes.

Anthony shoots her a look and then clamps his hand onto Benedict's shoulder. “Well, maybe not traditional circumstances, but I’m happy for you, brother. Welcome to fatherhood.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict exhales, looking relieved.

“So... no other news?” Violet inquires.

“No, mother,” Benedict says brusquely and a little too pointedly. 

“Hmm, shame,” she mutters under her breath and smiles indulgently at you.

A little while later, you see Violet take Benedict's arm and whisper something in his ear. You have no idea what, but it looks like he is getting a stern but loving motherly lecture. 

When she is done, he looks over at you in a way that is so intense and full of longing it steals your breath. 

Suddenly light-headed, you have to excuse yourself for the night.

Chapter 8: Moments from a country ball

The next evening the ballroom of Aubrey Hall is humming with people and looks beautiful. The bustle of staff setting out flowers earlier in the day has been replaced by the lazier-paced members of the Ton admiring the floral displays and quaffing their champagne.

You nervously smooth your gloved hands down over your blue dress. You specifically asked Madam Delacroix to make you a gown that would match the Bridgerton family colours. She had just winked. “Certainly, ma cherie, they are quite the family”. The lady knows far too many secrets.

With James tucked up in bed for the evening after a fun day exploring the estate just the two of you, it’s your chance to enjoy some grown-up company. You grab a glass of champagne and watch the assembled young ladies and gents take their place for the first dance.

Suddenly you feel a presence by your left side.

“You look beautiful,” Benedict murmurs. All of your body lights up from just a simple compliment.

“Thank you,” you say quietly and bump him lightly with your shoulder, “and you look very handsome,” you add, looking up into his eyes.

Oh god, that was a mistake. Trapped again. Unable to look away.

“I was hoping you would do me the honour of a dance, Mrs Darby,” sotto voce, your gaze still locked on his.

“Don’t call me that,” you implore, “please just call me by my first name.”

“Will you do me the honour of a dance, y/n?” he amends a little smirk on his lips.

“Yes,” you are far too breathy.

You have never danced with him before. The simple act of being in a respectable hold sends your thoughts scattering. In the past, you have mapped every inch of this man’s body with your tongue, but the feel of his arm curled gently around your back undoes you.

You are swept up into the dance. Into him. The father of your child. The best lover you ever had. The person that feels most like home and an adventure all at once.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks quietly after a few minutes as you move around the dancefloor, “you look so wistful.”

“You,” you admit simply. 

“Oh,” he looks bashful, “what about me?”

“How different things can be after so many years, but also strangely how it can be as if no time has passed at all.” you sigh.

He inhaled sharply. “I couldn’t agree more” his intense gaze drops to your lips as the music ends, but you stay locked in each other’s arms.

“Benedict…” you stutter, “I….”

“Is this the reason?” A woman’s voice cuts into your reverie.

You look over to see Miss Elliott standing nearby, arms crossed, looking at Benedict with a sour expression.

“Miss Elliott?” You greet hesitantly.

Her head whips to you, and she frowns when she recognises you “wait… Mrs Darby?” she shakes her head a little “You? You are the one he…” she stops mid-sentence looking stunned. 

“Oh….” She turns her heel and bustles away.

“Miss Elliott,” Benedict calls, “wait.” 

He gives you an apologetic look and then takes off after her, leaving you suddenly alone on the dancefloor.

You feel eyes on you, those who just witnessed the odd moment. So you walk briskly to grab a refreshment before anyone can corner you and ask questions. You plan to retire to the terrace to get some air, your thoughts a jumble. 

As you step outside, you revel in the feel of the evening air, cool on your skin. You take a sip of lemonade and look around for a seat until you hear voices below. Curious, you move into earshot.

“…I thought we had an agreement,” the woman sighs.

“Circumstances have altered,” is the reply. You’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

Benedict.

You know you shouldn’t, but you draw closer, standing behind a stone column so you'll be hidden even if they look up.

“How?” she asks; a peek around the column tells you it's Miss Elliott.

“I am reconsidering how my future may look,” he says slowly. “I have recently received news that has, well, it’s changed my whole life. My whole perspective on everything; I desire and want for things I thought impossible.”

Your heart pounds.

“What?” She asks. 

Yes, what? You think.

“A wife I love. Children.” 

Those five words have you spinning.

“I thought that the exact opposite of what you wanted?” She argues

“It was,” he admits, “but sometimes life throws you the most… amazing surprises, and I would be a fool not to at least try to get what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”

You feel your hands shaking. 

“Is it her? Mrs Darby? The one to whom your heart belongs? I saw the way you two were looking at each other when you were dancing.”

“It’s not just her,” his voice emotional, “it’s someone else. A very special someone I recently met.”

Oh god, he means James.

“Someone so perfect and wonderful. The love I feel for them. Even though I’ve only spent a few precious moments with them… It’s so profound and life-altering. I never knew…” he sounds choked up.

You feel a tear roll down your face.

“You are irrevocably in love, aren’t you?” She says quietly, resigned.

There is no audible response.

She sighs. “Where does that leave me?” 

“I am so sorry,” he replies sincerely, “I will try my best to find you another who would be favourable to this type of match. I know of some artists who have such arrangements. Perhaps they have friends seeking the same. So you can be free to love who you love.”

“Mr Bridgerton, thank you, but… I will be okay. I am not annoyed. Just disappointed. This was always about convenience. I wish nothing but the best for you. I just hope it works out for you.”

“So do I”, you hear him sigh. Then the crunch of footsteps on gravel as one, if not both, of them walk away.

You stay leaning against the column, closing your eyes, your head spinning with all you just overheard. 

So wrapped up in your thoughts and feelings that you don’t hear footsteps up the stone steps from the garden below until it’s too late to flee.

“Y/n?” You open your eyes and see him standing a few feet before you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it's a little stuffy inside; I came out just this moment for some air,” you lie.

He steps closer. “Why have you been crying?” His voice suddenly filled with concern.

“Benedict…” you breathe, and his arms enclose you in a tight embrace.

“What happened? Tell me,” he implores, rocking you gently. His cheek pressed against your temple. The warmth of his body seeping into yours.

You can’t tell him you are crying because you overheard him, all the beautiful things he said; it feels like such an invasion of his privacy.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you dismiss, “just happy tears,” your explanation is intentionally vague.

“Happy tears? What do you mean?” He cranes his head back slightly and looks at you, confused.

“I… just… I can’t explain it. But please just hold me,” you whisper.

“Of course. Always,” he breathes, and you wrap yourself around him, pressing your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. He says nothing, just lets you stand in his arms.

Unseen by you both, Violet appears in the doorway to the terrace and smiles to herself. 

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 4 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

Thank you everyone for your patience with this. Finally!! Here is the next part! I am not sure when I will have Part 5 & 6 done but I promise they are already plotted out...just got to write them. So this takes place in Season 2, so we get to see our beloved Alfie in his gangster glory. 

Warnings: Swearing, some racial slurs, mild sexual content, nothing major

Words: 10k 

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum

Part 4- Chance Encounters and Necessary Libations 

~1922~

“Fuckin’ Italians.” Alfie Solomons muttered as he pushed through the door of Darby Sabini’s club in London. The obnoxious mixture of perfume, cologne and cigarette smoke assailed his senses making his throat close up. For the briefest of moments his mind returned to the smoke-filled, blood-saturated fields in France, with that nauseating smell making his throat constantly feel like it would rather seal itself closed than force more of the poisonous air into his lungs. Bombs going off. Piss running through the trench, mixing with the fresh blood. Men, boys really, screaming for God or their mothers…or crying out for death. Quickly Alfie shook his head before the memories could escape the locked box in his mind that was reserved for them. No, he had a different kind of pain in the ass to deal with currently.

He moved just off to the side of the main entrance, eyeing the swarms of men with slicked-back hair, women in flapper dresses and pearls, and the workers hovering in the shadows waiting to assist the guests. Realistically, the pause was also to give his hip a moment’s respite before he had to pretend the pain radiating like a flare out of his right hip was nothing. He would rather suffer then give Sabini one hint of weakness. The man was a shark, sniffing blood in the water and attacking anything weaker than himself. He scanned the place, noting the gaudy décor, bold colors and the aura of alcohol and lust infused in the air seeking to corrupt the mind with every breath. This was definitely Sabini’s place. Alfie sent a silent prayer heavenward that he never had to cross this threshold again. This place was certainly far from kosher. After he left, he might have to repent of sins he had not even committed just to cleanse himself of the stench of this place. 

“Fuckin’ hip.” He rubbed a hand over it for a moment before straightening. The sooner he met with Sabini, the sooner he could leave. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Black hat on, long black coat hanging off his wide shoulders, scowl on his face- he stepped out of the shadows and moved forward. The guests parted before him, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Not that he minded, he actually got a thrill out of seeing people’s reaction when in his presence. He could be the personification of intimidating when he chose to be. His cane tapped on the floor with each step, only taking some of his weight. It could be its own added force of intimidation. A solid strike with it had taught many people it could be used for more than just a handicap.

“Mr. Solomons!” One of Sabini’s men finally approached him. The pinstripe suit, slicked back hair and thin moustache were enough of a giveaway before the man even opened his mouth to speak in his thick accent. “Mr. Sabini informed me to meet you at the entrance.”

“Yeah? Kinda hard to do that when you got your fuckin’ tongue down that girl’s throat, eh?” Alfie pointed at a girl walking by in a cream-colored dress, attempting to adjust it back into place. “Where is Sabini? He said to meet him here.”

The man attempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, causing some to smear on his cheek, never mind the few spots on his neck he seemed oblivious too. “Mr. Sabini had an important family meeting come up. Once that is finished, he would meet with you. It should not take long.”

Alfie grumbled, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw, his beard prickling the skin. The idea of waiting for Sabini sounded awfully boring and insulting. Yet he needed to have this meeting. If for nothing else then confirmation that his new alliance with those gypsies was still worth his time.

Somehow the man seemed to sense Alfie’s decision to stay and gestured for him to follow. They passed the dance floor, nearby tables being used for both alcohol and snow, and the band at the head of the room. There was a slightly elevated section that the wop led him too. Only a handful of others sat at the tables, too focused on their own conversations and drinks to pay any attention to Alfie.

“I’ll inform Mr. Sabini of your arrival, he will be out soon.” The man gestured to a table in which Alfie took a seat. “All drinks are on the house.”

Alfie watched the man scurry off before ordering a whiskey when a server approached. If Sabini had not shown his ugly face before Alfie finished his drink, he would leave. Fuck this waiting-power game Sabini was playing. The truce between the two of them wavered like a flickering flame, some moments stronger than others but this newest insult was too much. He was affecting Alfie’s business and that was something the Jewish gangster would not tolerate.

His thoughts turned to his schedule for tomorrow and what needed to get done. Ollie had been harping on him to get a secretary with how business and paperwork had been expanding and piling up. Each time Ollie tried to bring it up, Alfie’s glare would shut him down. He did not need nor want someone else sticking their nose in his books and affairs.

About halfway through his whiskey he heard footsteps approach from behind. They were not Sabini’s usual cocky stride. No, they were light and with a clip from high heels. Alfie internally rolled his eyes. He wondered if Sabini sent a whore to distract him, he would not put it past the arrogant wop to try that.

“Is this seat taken?”

Her soft, sweet voice swept over him, causing him to tighten his fingers around his glass. His plan to be rude or ignore her flew out of the window. Her voice was a siren’s call, a lingering song from his past that he had never truly forgotten.

The chair across from his slid out and she gracefully settled herself. Light caught and danced off all the silver beads on her sleeveless gray flapper dress. Long gray gloves covered her hands that held a flute of champagne. His eyes traced up her form to her red, plump lips and delicate features to stare into her hypnotic gaze with gemstone eyes. The biggest change was her shortened hair, a bob now, very fitting with the current style apparently but a part of him lamented the loss of her long, sleek, blonde hair.

The air froze between them. Time and space no longer mattered. Their eyes beheld one another as if a magnetic force refused to let them escape. Trapped in this disbelieving look. Trapped in this moment. Yet there was nowhere else Alfie would rather be. Even after all this time, even after all the shit he had seen and survived, even though it had years since he last saw her…she was still the most beautiful woman to him. He doubted that was something that would ever change.

“It is you.” She breathed out as if momentarily in awe.

“Angel?”

A small smile tilted her lips up. “Damn. Alfie Solomons in the flesh. This must be my lucky day.”

A sound between a snort and a laugh emerged from his own mouth but never once did his eyes come off of her…not did hers leave his. A bubble of silence encased them but it never felt uncomfortable. They just stared at one another as if seeing the moon for the first time. His mind struggled to convince itself that the woman sitting before him was the very same woman he had pinned after for so long. Eight years had passed since he last laid eyes on her. Eight years in which he went to war and returned to expand his empire and reputation. The year before the war ended, her letters stopped. One of the only sources of light and joy in that fucking war ceased and it hit him harder than the bomb blast that sent him to the hospital. All his hopes, dreams and promises of reuniting with her ended then. Yet here she sat in front of him now.

His brain finally decided to start functioning again and he asked the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doin’ here? Your last letter said you was in America.”

She tensed minutely, barely anyone would notice but his eyes were trained on her and did not miss her reaction. After taking a quick sip of her champagne, she answered him. “I have been. I am currently traveling for business.”

“Business?”

“Mmm…I am not sure if you have heard but over in America, this awful law was passed and now alcohol is illegal. Apparently, it is the root of all evil, if you listen to some of the old women.”

“And where does business come in?”

She shrugged casually, peering over the dance floor for a moment. “There are some people willing to pay for alcohol, especially those with money…they just lack the connections to grant them this great evil.”

“So that s’where you come in. You’re a supplier of an illegal substance.”

“I prefer to think of it as a supplier of the finer things in life and good times.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Even after all these years, she still continued to surprise him. “So what you sayin’, yeah, s’you still a trouble maker.”

“My dear Alfie,” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock horror, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, you s’fuckin’ angel. What are you doin’ at this club?”

She rolled her eyes, glancing around quickly. “My business partner and I were supposed to meet with Mr. Sabini but we have been waiting over an hour already.”

“Why the fuck you meetin’ with the likes of him?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Something within him roared in anger at the idea of her meeting with scum like Sabini.

“My partner thinks he has connections we could use. I disagree. With what I have heard, he is not a man to trust easily.”

“Yeah, you s’right, love. Stay well away from ‘im. What kind of connections you lookin’ for? Maybe I can help.”

“I actually planned on calling on you next week. Between us, your reputation may have…frightened my partner. He does not want to utilize your resources. He says you are too volatile and unpredictable.”

“Fuck ‘im too.”

She laughed shamelessly, eyes crinkling as she tilted her head back.

Heaven above, that sound was like music to his ears. He could not help as his own lips turned up at her amusement.  Every fiber in his body demanded he snatch her up and leave with her, never let her out of his sight again, beg her to smile and laugh for him because he had forgotten how it warmed him from the inside out. Although, if he somehow doubted that she would approve of his idea of kidnapping her. That idea made his smile broaden slightly. They both may have changed since they last saw one another but he doubted her independent streak had abated much.

“Come to me bakery tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll show you me bread and give you some names to check out.”

“I would like that.”

“Right! S’settled!” He clapped his hands together loudly, drawing the attention of the few other patrons sitting nearby. “Stop by in the mornin’. Mmm…yeah. I’ll have Mrs. Liebgott in the front expectin’ you.”

“If I may be so bold…” She gestured to his hands. Curious, he nodded and watched as she changed seats to sit next to him. Hesitantly she pulled his left hand closer and seemed to be examining it.

“S’you a gypsy now? Gonna read me palm for me fortune?”

A small smile appeared, the only indicator that she heard his tease. Now so close, her scent taunted him. That same lavender scent, even after all these years, still hung around her like a pleasant aura. As subtly as possible, he inhaled deeply, wishing to permanently brand his nostrils with her scent. Fucking hell, what was happening to him? He was starting to sound like some kind of miscreant stalker.

“Is that…from the necklace I gave you?”

He glanced down to see her finger gently touching one of his rings. “Yeah, the chain got damaged during…” he swallowed thickly, “…during a fuckin’ blast. Kept it in me pocket until I got back to London. Eventually had the gold melted from the chain to form the ring and had the star put on it.”

He wondered what she thought of it. The star was no longer perfect like when she had given it to him. There were dings and scratches on its surface. One of the star’s spikes was dramatically shorter than the others. Yet it still was the same star and same gold, just now a thick gold band encasing the simple gold northern star.

“I can’t… I am surprised you kept it.”

Unsure if those were really tears in her eyes or just a reflection off the club lights, he placed his other hand over hers. Her hands were now sandwiched between his.

“Course I kept it. It was the company’s fuckin’ good luck charm, given to me by me angel, yeah? Why the hell would I get rid of it?”

A genuine smile appeared as she squeezed his hand. “I am glad it brought you luck. From what your reputation says, even the devil himself could not have taken you down, Mr. Solomons.”

“Fuckin’ hell, he tried a few times. I had a promise to keep though. An angel told me I wasn’t allowed to die.”

“You certainly are a man of your word.”

“Mmm…yeah, yeah. That s’me.” His thoughts seemed to move sluggishly when he realized how close they were. Hands clasped between the two of them, bodies leaning forward. It felt surreal. She was truly here…in the flesh. All he wanted to do was pull her into his lap, wrap his arms around her and never let her go. Yet it had been eight years. He had changed, and he suspected she had too. Did she still want him like he wanted her? Could she? Or was this all a dream sent to torment him?

A voice destroyed their peaceful moment. A figure coming to stand near them. “Sarah, I think it’s time we leave.”

“Of course, Hector.” Sarah squeezed Alfie’s hands one last time before releasing him and standing up.

Alfie stared at the man who helped Sarah slip on her fur-lined coat. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man kept his hand on her lower back.

“Who is your friend here?” The man asked, his American accent easily recognizable. His blue eyes peered through his thin-rimmed spectacles, an intelligence there that was undeniable.

“Yes, my apologies. Hector, this is Alfie Solomons. Alfie, this is Hector Richardson, my business partner.”

Hector nodded slightly. “You seem to know each other well for how long you were talking.”

“We s’old friends, yeah. Haven’t seen her in years.” Alfie said, drumming his fingers on his cane.

“Old friends.” Hector repeated slowly. “Well pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solomons, but as I stated earlier, Sarah and I need to leave.”

Alfie grumbled, an unintelligent consent, wishing for this Hector to find himself at the bottom of the Thames. He did not like the look of him. He could not be much older than himself but this American carried himself like somehow Alife had insulted his mother. He had a handsome enough face, minus the slightly hooked nose and thin lips pursed in annoyance. What bothered Alfie the most was the possessive touch he had on Sarah. The idea to do some digging into this- Hector Richardson- sounded worthwhile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel?”

“Yes, I promise.” She winked at him, furthering the scowl on Hector’s face. The two walked away, getting lost in the midst of the crowded club.

Her heady scent of lavender lingered behind like a pleasant memory. The feel of her hands in his brought a warmth to his soul that had been cold for a long time. In all reality, he knew he was overreacting to her reappearance. It had been eight years since he last seen her and truthfully at any moment she could vanish once again. Yet the irrational piece of his brain he usually silenced chirped that it felt like a missing piece was back in his life.

Grumbling to himself, he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, thoughts now turning to tomorrow and their meeting. He could not help but smirk at the knowledge that she was getting into the illegal liquor business. Even after all these years, the girl who should have been a princess and high above the rest of the peasants was still rolling in the mud with them. Even if she still carried a dignity and grace about her that made others turn heads and take notice. She may be in the mud with the peasants but she was a queen, no one could deny that.

“Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie turned to the wop from earlier who approached, now cleansed of lipstick.

“Mr. Sabini can see you now.”

Quickly Alfie slammed the rest of his whiskey back, that familiar burn bringing him back to the present and this god-forsaken meeting.

“A’right, lets get this done, mate.”

 *****

-The next day-

 “So you see sir…that’s…that’s what ‘appened. Just an accident.” The young man stood quaking under Alfie’s gaze, eyes darting around as if any of the other bakers would step in and help him.

Alfie grunted, turning to stare at the large spill of rum soaking into the floor. All he could see was money wasted, laying on the ground. Sure the other lads had managed to save most of the rum in the broken barrel but that did not alleviate one of the newest bakers from learning to be careful with the goods. Normally the foreman on the floor would be dealing with this mess but unfortunately Ishmael was out checking a new batch of cane sugar from Jamaica before bringing it back to the bakery. So that left dealing with this imbecile to the boss.

“Clean this fuckin’ mess up.” He demanded, paused a moment to see the young man nod erratically then turned to head back to this office. The shit that needed to get done today kept piling up without any signs of a reprieve in the future for him. This was something he really did not need to happen today. A shipment was supposed to go out tonight that he wanted to look over once more then there was that pub owner he needed to address for his late payments along with…

“I’m sorry, sir… I won’t spill no more rum. Thank you, sir…”

Before the young man finished uttering his sentence, Alfie turned around to tower over the lad. He glared, summoning all his repressed anger and intimidation, then poured it like hot oil over the lad.

“May I remind you…that the distinction between bread and rum, yeah…IS NOT DISCUSSED!” Alfie ended roaring into the quivering lad’s face. “GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OR I’LL FUCKIN’ CRACK IT OPEN!” Without waiting for a response, he turned and started towards his office. If the smell of piss was any indicator, he guessed he would not have any troubles again with that one.

Back in his office, he slammed the door shut, startling Cyril from his nap on his bed on the floor. The bull mastiff looked up at his master before laying his head back on his front paws, watching the muttering man, unaffected by his foul mood.

Shuffling around his cluttered desk, Alfie checked his pocket watch and groaned. It was only 9am and already he wished for the day to be over. He dropped down onto his seat to stare at the paperwork before him. It was an unending pile that he seemed unable to escape no matter the number of late nights or early mornings. Slipping his halfmoon spectacles on, he started again on the notice he had been reading earlier. Someone must have dropped it by late last night. It was from one of the police officers on his payroll, saying how they were getting a new captain and a few new recruits with a list of names. Alfie made a mental note to have the captain checked out, see if he could be of use before Sabini got to him.

A gentle knocking brought Alfie out of his thoughts but kept his eyes glued to the paper before him. “Oi! What s’want, Ollie?”

The creaking of his door alerted him to Ollie’s entrance.

“This better be good, yeah, or you can just fuck right off now.”

“Would you prefer for me to come another time?”

The teasing, sweet, feminine voice had Alfie almost giving himself whiplash with how fast his head jerked up. Ollie stood just inside the office, keeping the door open, meanwhile Sarah stood in the doorway looking like a vision as usual, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“I like the spectacles by the way. They make you look…scholarly.”

Alfie snorted, taking the glasses off before rising. “Fuckin’ hell, love. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I said I would. I always follow through with my promises.” She stepped further in, her heels clicking on the wood paneled floor. “I can come back another day if you are busy.”

“No, no. S’fine.”

“Ollie,” she turned back to smile at the man, “perhaps that pot of tea and scones would be beneficial right now.” She started to peel her fur-lined coat off, the same from the prior night if Alfie was not mistaken. Ollie immediately jumped to her aid, taking her coat and hanging it up on the hooks near the door. Sometimes Alfie wondered at the true intelligence of his assistant but the lad was certainly raised well in how to treat female guests. Probably due to his mother who was a tyrant when she wanted to be but would tear down governments for anyone she cared for.

“Of course, Mrs. Bondurant. Anything else I can do, Alfie?”

“No, just that.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, running a hand over his mouth and jaw. “Then we aren’t to be disturbed, yeah? When Ishmael returns, he can leave the papers with you for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie gave one quick nod, his shaggy hair shaking with the movement before closing the door behind him.

“Mrs. Bondurant, eh? You married?”

She smiled slyly before taking time to look over his office. “Would it change things if I was?”

“Well that means I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about a married woman, yeah, very inappropriate.” He watched her, wishing he could read her mind. He wondered what she thought of his office. It was cluttered with bookshelves and files. A fireplace sat abandoned in one corner, only used on the rarest of occasions in the dead of winter. There were a map London on one wall and a couple drawings from an local artist he admired. He also did not mind admiring her in the cream calf-length skirt and plum blouse, a very sophisticated and modern look. She looked ready to take on the world, especially in those heels that made her legs look like a divine treat but were sharp enough to stab someone with. He wondered if she wore them because of how they looked or as a weapon. Probably with her, both reasons.

Slowly, she moved from where she had been admiring a drawing to stand before him. “And if I am not? If I am simply Sarah?”

“You ain’t never been just Sarah to me.”

Her lips twitched as her eyes trailed over his face and eyes, reading and weighing out his words. One of her hands came up to brush through his bristly beard, her thumb rubbing across the scar just above his jaw.

“France.” He answered her unspoken question. “Shrapnel from a bomb.”

“I heard you were made a captain.”

“Not noteworthy, love.”

“I disagree, I like the sound of Captain Solomons.”

There was that teasing, mischievous look back in her gemstone eyes that he remembered so well. Standing so close, even in her heels, her eyes were level with his chin. A strange realization that so much had changed since they last saw one another except for this. She was still the perfect height in his opinion. Her hand on his cheek, he drew his own hand over her cheekbone before running through her shortened hair.

“Why you cut your hair?”

“Are you not aware? It is the latest fashion.” She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, the perfect image of a spoiled aristocrat.

He chuckled, running his hand through more slowly this time. At least it did not feel full of product like some women wore their hair. “Sure it is. Never guessed you’d be one to follow the rules.”

“Maybe I will grow it back out. It does help me not to stand out.”

“Love, you are a beautiful angel. Anyone who don’t see that is a fuckin’ fool.”

“I see you still have that charmer’s tongue and honeyed words.”

“I am a man of many talents.”

“Mmm…I seem to recall a few of those talents, especially involving that tongue of yours.”

“Only a few? S’shame, yeah, gonna need to fix that, yeah.” His hands landed on her hips, holding her close. Their gazes remained locked, a heat spilling out between them to fill the air. This teasing, flirtatious banter they so easily fell into felt different this time. Maybe it was because they were different people now. Maybe it was because the time spent apart. Yet Alfie guessed it was because they no longer were hindered by her family and his limited time before the war. No, now they were free. He hoped.  

“Please tell me you s’unmarried, I don’t need to be fightin’ no angry husband later.”

“Afraid you will lose?”

“No, Angel, its cos if I kiss you, I ain’t lettin’ you go again, damn your husband.”

“How do I know you are not married?”

“Been too busy.” He dragged his lips over the shell of her ear, loving the way her hands gripped the front of his shirt like a safety line. “Now answer me question, love.”

“No, I am not married.”

“Mmm…good, good.”

“What now, Captain Solomons?” One of her hands reached down to gently cup his growing erection. “I thought I was here to talk business and see your bakery.”

He suppressed a groan, trying to keep his thoughts in line. It was hard to think beyond this bubble of lust they were creating. The lock on the office door had been replaced lately, so being disturbed was not an issue. There was nowhere to lay her down though. If memory served him correctly, she did not mind being pinned against a wall (although his hip may protest). He wondered how she would feel about utilizing his desk. It was very sturdy. His hands slipped down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as he lightly kissed a trail down her neck. “It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And of course that was the moment Ollie chose to reenter with the tray of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, his eyes fixated on the two, his mouth gaping slightly. In all honesty, he probably did not expect to see his boss caressing this strange woman as one of her hands cupped his cock, her other tangled in his hair, pulling his head closer. That would give anyone a shock.

“Ah, um…I can come…”

“That is alright, Ollie.” Sarah stepped away from Alfie, somehow disentangling herself with ease and speed that astounded him. Probably did not help all the blood had rushed from his brain down to his cock. “Tea sounds delightful. I have been missing a good pot of English tea. Soothes the soul.” She peeked over her shoulder at Alfie, who had a scowl on his face. “Business before pleasure, sweetheart.”

Ollie almost dropped the tray on Alfie’s desk with that last comment.

Grumbling, Alfie tried to subtly adjust himself and get his mind off the feeling of how good her body felt under his hands. God, it was like the best wet dream and a nightmare simultaneously; having her so close and ready, yet then it being ripped away suddenly.

“Oh? And who is this handsome boy?”

Alfie straightened, fear coursing through him. So lost in her he had forgotten about the dog. “Sarah, wait-“

It was too late, she knelt down on the other side of Alfie’s desk near Cyril’s bed. Even Ollie momentarily looked horrified. Alfie expected to hear a cry or a growl, yet the immediate sound that greeted him was her cooing and a tail thumping. Coming around to the other side of his desk, shocked did not even begin to describe how he felt at the scene before him. There lay his massive dog that had torn men to shreds in protection of Alfie, who normally disliked strangers and even then was choosy about who he let touch him….now lay on his back, legs sprawled, tongue lolling as he got his belly and chest scratched. Sarah knelt on the floor, facing him, her voice low and cooing at him like he was the sweetest puppy. It would have been comical if Alfie could wrap his head around what his eyes were seeing. Exchanging a look with Ollie only mirrored his own surprise.

“Didn’t know you s’dog person.”

She looked back at Alfie, the widest, genuine smile on her face he had ever seen. “I love dogs. They are the most loyal companions and great for cuddling.”

“Mmm…” Alfie muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and jaw. He watched a second longer, transfixed by the sight in front of him. Glancing to his side, he suddenly remembered Ollie standing there, who now was staring at her with a dreamy look. “Oi! Keep those eyes in your head, boy. Now fuck off!”

He did not have to be asked twice, most likely knowing Alfie was pissed at him already for interrupting…whatever was happening before he arrived with the tray. Ollie stumbled an apology, along with a parting before scurrying out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Are you always so harsh with him?”

“Didn’t like ‘im starin’ at you.” He reached a hand out to help her back to her feet, much to Cyril’s dismay. Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Before he could get his hands fully back on her, she evaded him to glide over to the tray.

“Now, tell me the tale of how Alfie Solomons became a distiller of rum and owner of such a fine bakery. I must confess I tried one of those honeyed scones with Mrs. Liebgott, who is a delight herself, and it was delectable. I may have to come back just for that.” Sarah poured herself a cup of tea while she spoke then sat to blow gently on the steaming liquid. At her last comment, a soft whine came from around the side of Alfie’s desk. “Precious boy, I will come back and see you too. Oh! What is his name?”

“Cyril.” Alfie shook his head at the strangeness of this encounter, but then again, when had him and Sarah ever met like normal people. He rounded his desk to sit in his seat, shuffling some papers out of the way to not spill tea on. “Why you askin’ ‘bout me business?”

“Curiosity…perhaps I am impressed and am trying to see how the young man I once knew with bloody fists has now become such a successful businessman.”

“You forgot to mention dangerous gangster.”

“You would not be the first of those I have encountered.”

He squinted his eyes at her, disliking that comment. Gangsters were not to be trusted. Who else around here besides Sabini had she ‘encountered’? Had she somehow met the Shelbys? The fuckin’ Russians? Why could she not stay out of trouble?

As if reading his thoughts, she waved a hand dismissively. “In America. Apparently it is a growing trend. Now, I am still waiting for my story.”

“A’right. First,” he pointed a finger at her, “where this ‘Mrs. Bondurant’ business start? Then you’ll get your fuckin’ story.”

Several silent moments passed, her holding her tea cup against her lips as she stared off to the side. Softly, just above a whisper, she finally spoke. “My father disowned me, said I was a disgrace to our family name. I never fit into the mold that he wanted.  Do not look at me with that pity, it truthfully was not a surprise to anyone. Once he realized I refused to be married off to benefit his business and position, he no longer had a need for me. Besides, he had my brother who was beginning to follow in his footsteps. So I went back to stay with some distant family in America…”

“That’s why your letters came from there. The men thought I had me an American sweetheart.”

She chuckled. “I remember you mentioning that. Ishmael wrote me a letter about how you got into a fight when one of the men called me a ‘whore’ or something. Still defending my honor even in the middle of a war.”

“Fuckin’ hell…he did?”

She nodded slowly, smile growing on her face.

Grumbling about useless friends under his breath, he motioned for her to continue her story.

“I traveled around some, New York City, Chicago, Charleston. I have some cousins who got into the liquor business of distribution to places willing to pay for the stuff even though it is illegal now. Apparently I have a good mind for business and numbers so they convinced me to help them.”

“That man last night…”

“He is a distant cousin, a business partner. Him and his brother are the ones I work with.”

He shook his head, secretly pleased the man was not a suitor. “Why the fuck he so possessive of you?”

“We have had a few encounters with gangsters who…who wanted me to be part of the deal. They have become a bit protective of me since. And also his wife is one of my good friends. Before we left to come here, she told him if anything happened to me, she would cut his cock off.”

He laughed, not expecting that.

“He has a valid reason to be afraid. You do not mess with Southern women, they are usually sweet and kind but they can be brutal if they want too. Anyway, after an…incident, I had to lay low for a while. Hector had me stay with some friends in Virginia who are moonshiners. Actually one of them reminded me of you. It was uncanny. His name was Forrest Bondurant. I guess at one point while I was resting, some men came to the house asking questions about me. Forrest told them I was his wife…and it just stuck. It certainly kept the men in the area from trying anything. It is not like I wanted to go by Sarah Byron anymore.”

“Mmm…what was this incident?”

She shook her head. “No, I answered your question. Now I get my story.”

Fiddling with the rings on his hands, he found himself pouring out about life after the war. Only two women in his life had been able to boss him around, his mum and the angel staring at him with eyes of interest and affection. He talked about how coming back he noticed how many men could not get work, their families forced onto the streets. Plus while he was gone, his mother started to get sick. Without proper care, because she could not afford it, she began to deteriorate. Seeing this, he began to figure out ways to make money to pay for her care. Thus the rum business began. He still had all his prior connections, memories of how everything worked and now the man power to make it a business. The idea of the bakery had actually been inspired by his mum who complained that he always came home smelling of molasses and rum. He managed to afford her the best care until she passed two years ago. Now his life consisted of his business. He still “ran” Camden, giving protection to those willing to pay for it and trying to keep the wops off his turf. He dabbled with races some but that was more Sabini’s territory. With the growing popularity of his nephew, he was thinking about getting into boxing matches more instead of it just being recreational. He was unsure how long he spoke for, her asking questions along the way. The tea and scones were long gone. Cyril had gotten up at some point and sat next to Sarah, laying his head on her knee so she could pet him absent-mindedly as she listened to Alfie.

Dramatically, the office door opened. Ishmael entered, a surprised and smug look on his face.

“What the fuck, mate?” Alfie demanded.

Ishmael glanced at his boss and friend before turning back to Sarah. His eyes scanned over her like she was a new species he had discovered. “Damn, Ollie was right.”

“Ishmael?” Her eyebrows rose as her mind seemed to connect his face to her memories.

“Yeah, love. It’s me. What you doin’ here?”

“Just talking history and business.”

Ishmael leaned against Alfie’s desk, ignoring the glare being sent his way by Alfie, focusing on her. “You comin’ down to the floor to see the bakery? I’d give you a tour.”

“Oi! You got somethin’ important cos if not then fuck off, yeah?”

“Seein’ the lovely woman who holds me friend’s heart is important.” Ishmael winked at Sarah before looking over his shoulder at Alfie, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And I came to tell you that one of our lads got in a fight with one of them Pikey boys and now that big fella, the red-head, is demandin’ to speak to you.”

“Fuck.” Alfie groaned, rolling his eyes skyward. He needed all the patience to deal with that particular man, who was good at his job but just continued to rub Alfie the wrong way constantly. Looking over at Sarah, he could read the amusement and understanding in her eyes. “Love, I’m sorry…”

“It is fine, Alfie. I am sure I have taken up more than enough of your time today. You do have a business to run.” She stood up, brushing out her skirt.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“What?”

He rose, coming around the desk to stand before her. A sudden desperation in him that he could not let her leave without knowing he would see her again soon. “Lemme take you out tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight. I still didn’t hear none of your time in America and we never talked business.”

She paused a moment, eyes scanning his face. “I would like that.”

“Mmm…good, yeah, good.” Before she could grab it, he reached over and snagged her coat, helping her into it. “Ollie! In ‘ere!”

Ollie stepped in, seeming to have been waiting just outside the door. Probably expecting to get chewed out for letting Ishmael in.

“Good. Take Mrs. Bondurant to the hotel she is staying. Use me car, yeah, have David drive you.”

“Alfie…” She started to argue, hand placed on his chest.

“No, that’s an order, yeah?”

She cupped his cheek, before pressing her lips to it. “Of course, Captain. See you tonight.”

He mumbled something unintelligent, brain suddenly on hiatus with the feeling of her lips on his skin.

Giving a brief smile to Ishmael, she followed Ollie down the walkway, looking like a goddess amongst the dim and dusty bakery.

Alfie shook his head, dragging his eyes away from the door to Ishmael to ask him a question. His foreman and friend just stared at him smirking. “What?”

“Gonna propose proper this time?”

“Ah, fuck off.”

Ishmael laughed, pushing off Alfie’s desk. “Bout time you married and started having a house full of babies. Me wife is sick of making dinners for you all the time.”

“I’m just waitin’ for you to finally die then Ruth knows I’ll marry her right after your ass is buried in the ground. ‘sides, your ankle biters like me more.”

“Well you be waitin’ around a while…don’t plan on dying yet.”

“Good, good. I need you still, you fuckin’ bastard. Now let’s go crack some heads, yeah? Cyril, c’mon boy.”

Ishmael clapped a hand to Alfie’s shoulder quick before walking out of the office. Straightening the rings on his fingers, he allowed his boss persona to rise to the surface. Alone with Ishmael, they could joke but out in the bakery, he was the boss you did not fuck with or your blood spilled on the ground. Cyril at his side, he strode out of his office, wanting to deal with this mess as quickly as possible. He had a pile of things he needed to do still but nothing would stop him from seeing his angel tonight. He cracked his knuckles. Like she said, first business then pleasure.

 *****

Unfortunately business took longer than Alfie wanted. It was closer to nine that evening when his car pulled up in front of the hotel Sarah was staying at. A nice place with brick walls, banners and an attendant at the door to greet guests and provide information. Alfie let his driver go home claiming to need the drive to clear his head, when truthfully he just did not want to be around anyone. That afternoon had been exhausting from dealing with the Pikeys working in his bakery (damn Shelby for convincing him this was a good idea) and then trying to catch up on paperwork. Parking the car on the side of the street, he hopped out, almost getting hit by an erratic driver before heading towards the hotel.

“How can I be of service, sir?” The attendant politely asked when Alfie approached the double doors.

“Um, lookin’ for a friend. She s’stayin’ here.”

The attendant glanced him up and down quickly as if assessing Alfie’s worth of being allowed through his doors. Before Alfie could give him a piece of his mind, the man spoke up. “Would you, by chance, be a Mister Solomons?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Ah. A Mrs. Bondurant said she would be waiting for you at the bar, sir.”

Grumbling to himself, he nodded to the man before slipping past the double doors and heading off to the bar area on the right. His eyes shrewdly scanned over the patrons before landing on her. What should of brought elation only caused a shot of fiery anger to course dangerously through him. Sitting next to her at the bar was a man who was much too close and much too focused on her in Alfie’s opinion. He was fully turned facing her, holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand and the other draped across the back of her chair.

Sarah was only turned slightly towards him but one of her hands were carefully holding a wine glass and the other a lit cigarette. Her dress was a deep red, V-necked so her cleavage peeked out enticingly, and two strands of pearls hanging over her chest with black heels that were sharp. She looked positively beautiful and sinful at the same time.

The man brought his face closer to hers, whispering something before leaning back and chuckling about whatever it was. Sarah laughed along but it seemed fake to Alfie. To his growing rage, he witnessed the man place a hand on her thigh as he continued talking casually.

Without warning, Alfie stormed over and practically yanked the man out of his seat, causing him to spill his drink all over the counter. “Keep your fuckin’ hands and eyes off ‘er, yeah? Or I’ll cut ‘em off. Got it?” He growled into the man’s face.

“What the fuck?” The man scrambled to stand up straight, made impossible by the way Alfie was gripping the man’s suit jacket. His own voice rising to meet Alfie’s anger. “We were just talking. Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your bloody hands off me.”

Permission granted and uncaring of the amount of stares he was receiving, he pulled the man upright to get into his face. “I’m Alfie Solomons, that’s who the fuck I am.”

Alfie watched the lightbulb go off in the man’s eyes as his name sunk into his thick skull. Where there had been irritation and rising fury, now was doused away with the realization of who held him and pure fear at the unknown of Alfie’s actions.

“Good, good. Anymore questions? No? Then fuck off, mate.” He released the man, who stumbled back before righting himself. He opened his mouth as if to say something but with Alfie’s pointed glare, he clamped it shut and briskly walked away without even looking at Sarah.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Alfie turned back to Sarah. She had not moved, a single eyebrow raised as she took a sip of her wine.

“You look like you need a drink.”

He chuckled darkly. “More than one.”

Taking the man’s seat, he plopped down and ran a hand over his eyes. He signaled for a whiskey from the bartender, who quickly cleaned up the spilled drink. “Sorry, ‘m late, love, I had some unforeseen business…”

“Was that necessary?”

He stopped at her abrupt interruption. Turning slightly to face her, he eyed her. “What?”

Pursing her lips, she took a drag off her cigarette before speaking, the smoke dancing out of her lips and floating above her head. “Was it necessary to come after William like that?”

“William, eh? You two s’friends?”

“No, I just met him.”

“Then pardon me but what the fuck is the problem then? You didn’t seem to enjoy none of how close he was to you or was I readin’ that wrong? You tryin’ for his attention? Hopin’ to fuck him?”

With that, she turned to face him, emerald eyes glowing with unbridled rage. “You listen, Alfie Solomons,” she spat out, keeping her voice low but no less deadly. “I can talk to, spend time with and fuck whomever I want. I am not some innocent posh girl you need to protect anymore. Nor am I yours in any way. I am my own and I can do whatever the hell I want. If that affects us then you can be on your way and do not expect to hear from me. Am I making myself clear?”

Alfie’s own anger rose up instinctively. No one had talked to him like that in years and he remembered how much he hated it. His own blue eyes met her emerald, flames practically flickering between them with the surrounding air thick with tension. He did not flinch nor look away when the bartender hesitantly slide his drink in front of him. This battle of wills between them, staring purposefully into her heated gaze made him notice something. There was a darkness that lingered in the edges of those beautiful, gemstone eyes he had always loved so much that had not been there the times prior they had met. No, this was something new and it broke his heart. It was the same darkness that lingered in himself, in returned soldiers, in people who had seen far too much violence and their minds could not forget. She was haunted, just like him. Whatever anger he held crumbled like dust at this realization. All he could think of was pulling her into his arms to protect her from her own pain. What had happened since he had last seen her those eight years ago?

“A’right, love, a’right. You s’right. Just don’t want to see you hurt, yeah?”

After a long pause, he could see the tension drain from her posture. Slowly, she brought a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his scar. “Why do you still care? Why are you still looking out for me?”

“Cos you s’me angel. You deserve it.”

A hint of tears glistened in her eyes as she held his gaze once again, but with a very different emotion this time.

“Now, it’s been a fuckin’ long day after you left. Me temper may have gotten the best of me. Here we are and this mornin’ you promised to tell me your story…mmm…so…”

“Is that so?” She chuckled, pulling her hand back to grasp her glass, and there was that twinkle in her eye that meant trouble. “Perhaps I want to see if you will beg for it?”

He leaned forward, invading her space intimately, as he whispered in her ear. “There is only one reason I would beg…and we will both be naked before that happens.” Returning to an upright position, he witnessed her pupils dilated slightly and lick her lips subconsciously. A jolt of desire shot through him at her action.

“An interesting proposal, Mr. Solomons. There is one thing I have heard that I am most curious about.”

“Mmm?”

“Some new friends I have made informed me that at the Paradise you regularly pay more for blonde company.” She smirked, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.

“Fuckin’ hell, what are you doin’ at a whorehouse?”

“I told you, I thoroughly research those who I may be doing business with.”

“You s’still trouble, Miss Sarah. Fuck…what you learn ‘bout Sabini?”

Shaking her head, she laughed making a smile appear on his own face. The prior tension between them fully gone.

“When you start smokin’?” Not that it bothered him terribly. During the war, he had become used to the smell. It was one of the few ways a soldier could attempt to relax while in the trenches. He never acquired the taste for it personally, much to the amusement of some of his men.

She shrugged, “I cannot rightly say. It just happened.”

He nodded, taking a sip of the whiskey. Not terrible stuff, surprisingly. Opening his mouth to tease her about it, the words died on his tongue as a different voice called out to her.  

“Sarah? Sarah Byron, is that you?”

The tightening of her hand around her glass was the only give away of emotions. Gracefully she turned to face the man now standing behind her. Alfie’s ire returned, especially with the look this man was giving her. In his crisp suit, cropped hair and smug smile, he looked the part of an arrogant aristocrat. He practically smelled of money from family inheritance.

“Yes…Joseph?”

He smiled broadly, eyes trailing over her body. Quickly he took that last step forward, plucked her hand and kissed the back of it. “My dear Sarah, it is a true pleasure to see you. I do believe your beauty has only grown since I last saw you. Unfortunately I have a brief meeting I must attend now but after, could I take you out for a drink or food? There is a splendid restaurant not far from here my driver could take us.  It has been far too long since we were able to talk without any preconceived notions and expectations.”

“Sorry, mate, she s’busy tonight.”

For the first time, the man turned his focus on Alfie. Meeting his narrowed eyes, all Alfie could think of was a serpent.

“Oh? Is she? And who are you?”

“Alfie Solomons.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “The gangster?” He looked back at Sarah. “Fascinating company you keep, my dear.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Everything in Alfie screamed at him to stand up and have this bastard’s face meet his fist…repeatedly.

“I am Joseph Coventry, Earl of Lancashire.” Keeping his sly gaze on Sarah, he pulled the single red rose out of his suit jacket’s pocket. He held it out for her, who took it somewhat reluctantly as he spoke again. “Truly a shame I must leave but I will call on you soon. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Sarah.” After a quick peck on her knuckles this time, he headed towards a far table already containing three men dressed similarly and with an air of high class.

“What the…”

Ignoring Alfie, she turned to the bartender. “Whiskey, a whole bottle, yes that one will do. Two glasses. Put it on my tab, please.” Snatching the glass bottle and glasses, she stabbed her cigarette out and left it on the ashtray before she got up and started towards the nearby stairs.

Alfie stared at the men a moment longer…this Joseph Coventry…an arrogant bastard if he had ever met one. It might be prudent to ask around about him. Alfie could usually get a good read on people, those that were trustworthy or not. Everything about this prick made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hand to unconsciously twitch to grab the pistol under his jacket. There was something there…something dangerous and deadly just under the surface…and the man had his eyes on Sarah. No, Alfie would not tolerate that.

After taking that moment to memorize Coventry’s face, he followed after Sarah up the stairs. He had a few new questions for her and with her purchase of a whole whiskey bottle, he was unsure how much longer she would be sober for. Although the idea of seeing her drunk did amuse him slightly, he wondered if she would be the angry type or the giggly, excessively talking type. Personally he hoped for the cuddly type but he would never take advantage of a drunk woman. He may be a low life gangster with too much blood on his hands but he did have some morals.

He quickly caught up to her on the second floor as she opened the door to room number 16. Without a word or a look back at him, she walked through and into the hotel room, leaving the door wide open. He followed, closing and locking the door behind him before scanning the place. The room certainly had an upscale feel with its floral wallpaper, wood accents and gaudy still life paintings. There were only two other doors, one he guessed led to the washroom and the other to the bedroom. His focus though turned to the woman who had collapsed onto the couch, her high heels kicked to the side, and pouring two fingers worth of whiskey. Within moments after pouring it, she slammed it down and poured another. So many questions resided on his lips but he kept them closed. Moving around the room, he tossed his coat onto a nearby wingback chair and joined her on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, allowing her space. To his surprise, she poured him a glass and wordlessly handed it to him. After pouring herself another glass, she leaned back and closed her eyes. He could not help his wandering gaze, eyes drifting to those sleek legs with more skin exposed as her dress had ridden up with her unladylike posture, and the swell of her breast, straining against her dress.

“Do you remember…” she stopped, licking her lips as of to encourage the words to come out, “…last time we saw each other. I told you I was back because I was supposed to be getting married.”

“Yeah.” Then it clicked and his eyes widened momentarily. “That…that bastard? That s’who?”

She took a tentative sip of her drink this time, still leaning back and keeping her eyes closed.

“Fuck, love, think you dodged a bullet with that one.”

A snort escaped her but it was her eyes opening and turning to look at him that caused him to finally relax.

“Tell me, Sarah.”

And so she did. He could tell she glossed over much of her story and skipped certain parts entirely. Yet he let her talk, sharing about her past eight years and things she had done. He sat mesmerized by her and her story. After the “insult” perceived by her father, he disowned her, kicking her out of the house no matter her mother begging for him to reconsider. More determined than ever to prove herself and to never let a man control her, she got on a boat and traveled back to her mother’s distant family in America. Finally America decided to join the Great War and many men were sent over to Europe. During this time she became more involved in that family’s business and proved herself to be an asset. Once the war was over, she continued with the work but settled more behind the scenes. Prohibition happened which only proved to make business a challenge she thrived in. Her brother died in France during the war and with the grief of losing her son and disownment of her daughter, her mother fell into a deep depression and eventually died. Her father died last year, the only reason she felt confident in returning to London after all this time.

Somehow during her retelling, their postures changed. Alfie had shifted to sit closer to her, feet still planted on the ground and a glass in his hand. Sarah laid stretched out on the couch, her legs over his lap with her head on the arm rest and a glass in her hand. Together, they were slowly working through the whiskey bottle while she spoke. His hand skimmed up and down her legs, the feeling of her stockings and skin under his hand was intoxicating.

When her story ended, he asked something that had been gnawing on him for years. “Why did your letters to me stop?”

She threw back the rest of her glass, turning to look at the large window they faced. “I did something stupid and got thrown in jail for a short time before family could get me out. The sheriff was not a fan of me.”

Something about the way she tensed and refused to look at him made him wonder what happened to her while in jail. Nothing good. The thought of this sheriff laying a hand on her made his blood boil and he wondered if the man was still alive so he could kill him himself. Slowly and painfully.

Reaching a hand over, he gripped her free hand and entwined their fingers. There was nothing he could say or do to take away the pain no matter how much he wanted to. He changed the subject, hoping to bring her out of the solemnness that she was wallowing in. “How long until you head back?”

“Two weeks? A month? Depends on if we decide to go to France and meet some connections there.”

“That s’it?”

He could not disguise the sadness nor longing in his voice. Emerald eyes turned to meet his, mirroring his emotions. Slowly she sat up, setting her glass down before placing one hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek.

“I will not leave unannounced. I can promise you that.”

“Is it selfish for me to want all your time while you’re here?”

She smirked, dragging her thumb across his lower lip. “Something particular in mind to occupy our time?”

“I’m sure I can get creative.”

“Promises, promises, Captain Solomons.”

In a heated rush, his lips claimed hers. Whatever slow building fire that burned between them suddenly turned into an inferno and Alfie swore he felt like his blood was aflame. Unexpectedly  she moved to straddle him, hands tugging on the buttons on his shirt. His own hands fumbled between cupping her ass and undoing the buttons on her dress. He sipped on the sweet ambrosia that was her mouth, drowning in the taste of her tongue and the heat between her legs over his straining cock. It was heaven. It was torment. There was one thing he knew, he could not stop. Whatever self-control he had flew out the window once their lips touched. He was fully under her control and had no intentions of going anywhere else. In one last draw of strength, he pulled away to meet her lust filled eyes. They had been drinking and he did not want her to regret this come morning.

“Angel, you sure?”

Slowly, she blinked as if awakening from a fog. Then she pulled off his lap to stand before him. A piece of him died when she turned and started to walk away. Did she regret this? Had he pushed her too far? They were certainly different people and with everything she had shared tonight, perhaps this was not what she wanted.

His breath caught in this throat, hope and fear warring within him when she stopped at the bedroom door. Meeting his gaze, she reached back and undid the last few buttons on her dress. It slipped down to pool at her bare feet, leaving her standing there in a sheer shift that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like both the angel he called her and sin wrapped up in a body that begged to be worshipped and ravished until she could not move. His blonde, green-eyed siren regarded him, a smile growing on her lips as he stared.

“Coming, soldier?” Turning around she strolled into the darkness in her bedroom, the slip coming off and dropping onto the floor like a trail for him to follow.

He did not think he had ever scrambled off a couch so fast. His shirt fell onto her dress on the floor, symbolic of their owners just a few feet away.

The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lust, laughter and contentment. Neither brought up the new scars scattered along both of their bodies. Pleasure was the purpose of the night. Something they certainly succeeded at if how sore they both were come morning was any indicator.

 *****

-The next day-

 Alfie sat at his desk, massaging his sore hip. He had been forced to use his cane more than he cared for today but thinking of the prior night and the reason why…completely worth it.

A knocking on his door had him looking up. “Come in.”

One of his men came in, a fellow soldier from France and now a baker, when he was not needed as protection on the streets.

“John, good, good. C’mere.”

John shut the door behind him and took the indicated seat, the chair creaking slightly under the weight. John was a large man, muscular and thick with a bushy beard and watchful eyes. Although Alfie would never tell him out loud, John was one of the few he trusted most that worked for him and found him indispensable. But Alfie did not want to boost the man’s ego more than it was.

“I got a task for your lads.” Alfie rubbed his hand over his jaw and mouth for a moment before continuing, damn the consequences. “There’s someone I need your lads to keep an eye on for me. A Mrs. Sarah Bondurant. Don’t let ‘er know, yeah. Just report who she s’been meetin’ with and make sure no one harms her.”

“This the woman who came by yesterday?”

Alfie raised a single eyebrow.

John shrugged. “Ishmael been talkin’.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that ugly bastard. Yeah, yeah, it is. Think you can do it?”

“Course.”

“One last thing. See what you can find out about a Joseph Coventry.”

“The earl?” John asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, I gots me a bad feelin’ ‘bout him.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll stop by in two days. Should have somethin’ by then.”

“Good, good. Thanks, John.”

After John left, Alfie toyed with the gold star ring on his left hand, lost in thought. After hearing everything from Sarah and seeing some of her scars, it only increased his desire to protect her. She would certainly be livid with him if she knew he had men looking out for her. He both loved and hated that independent streak in her. For now though, he needed to focus on work. He had managed that morning to draw a promise to see her again tonight, and this time he planned to take her out proper…maybe go back to his place after? He smiled at the thought of her writhing beneath his sheets. Maybe they should just go straight to his house?

A loud bang sounded from outside his door drew his attention back to the present and a scowl formed on his face. No rest for the wicked.

“Oi! The fuck is goin’ on out there?!”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira (9)

CHAPTER 9: It’s a Different Dawn

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: some old stuff is dug up, a new place is visited, a new stranger is...met?

Warnings: not much really...but then again...not much really :P

Word count: I am in such a weird phase right now. Like a trance. I can't seem to make my mind come to this very moment sometimes. Often, actually.  But this place such a weirdly comfortable escape I keep wondering if things would’ve been different had I known about this site ages back.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The one time you like the city you have hated so much for so long, you are leaving it for another place- continent, in fact- and are somehow surprised by the streaks of flawless orange, red, pink and purple paint the sky the most colourful for the first time. The roads are empty when the car leaves from The Hidden Grim. The forests give way to barren lands outside the city walls and the concrete jungle is but a side view to your journey to the airport.

Robert was supposed to play the role of your chauffeur till the terminal but you are being escorted by another man today. The same man who, according to you- had perfect yet eerie timing for saving you that horrendous night.

"Everything okay back there?"

His voice. Yes, of course, that is one of the reasons you are so wary of him whenever he is around you. His voice seems to have a gravity of its own, moving the things around him in order, according to his elemental force. Maybe that is why even though he has been nothing but a gentleman, he just does not seem to rub you the right way. Which answers the question of why your boss does not like having him around. No two stars with such strong force fields can survive in such close vicinity.

"Didn't realise you cared so much about me."

Ah. Right . You had nearly forgotten Loki's presence beside you. Nearly. Hard task but it happened for- you look down at your watch- twelve seconds.

Even at five in the morning, he is dressed with the intention of taking over the world. The black suit does not seem to disappoint the looker- in this case, you- when you wonder what all had Gustav packed for you.

"The question wasn't for you," Heimdall admits with an irritated sigh and a raised brow.

You are clearly sitting on the edge of a black hole waiting to be formed.

"Hm," Loki sighs, closing his phone, "here I thought we were finally getting warm."

From the corner of his eyes his watches you smile at his- what he thinks is ill-timed- joke, feeling this strange flutter take form inside his chest. He feels better watching you smile after the night you had. But the moment he remembers the horror and the tears on your face, his fingers close themselves into a fist, calculating all the ways to find out the source and theorise what could possibly be done with them.

I'm watching out for my own interests , he even tries to convince himself. If she isn't in the right frame of her mind, it will affect my work. There is no other reason.

"Everything's fine, Mr Heimdall, sir," you admit, breaking the cold trance of his thoughts that Loki is swimming in, resurfacing at the call of your tired yet soft voice.

"Okay, good," Heimdall acknowledges with a nod, swerving smoothly towards the private terminal, "just wanted to make sure your boss wasn't being the reason for your silence."

You brows converge as you turn to face Loki in confusion, him doing the same but ending it with an eye roll and a slight shake of his head. "He has a tendency to mock my skills as a host ever since the beginning."

You let your tired eyes go a little wide to show the dawn of realisation engulfing your sleep-craving brain while Heimdall scoffs from the driver's seat.

Ten minutes later you sit in the most comfortable little jet you have witnessed in your life, your hope of getting a shut-eye in the back of the plane seeming impossible as you are shown to the comfortable soft leather seat facing Loki while Heimdall and Robert- who was responsible for the vehicle bringing the luggage- sit at the back.

Oh well, might just make good use of it.

"The marketing and finance floor each sent in a list of investors for the new subsidiary of agro-plant and machinery."

Loki- already settled in his seat, his jacket resting in the closet at the back, his sleeves rolled up just enough for you to think how used to he is hiding his scar- looks up at a fidgety you trying to find a comfortable angle to sit as you open up your laptop and turn it to show him the list.

"Tell them to run their respective checks," he concludes, taking the champagne offered by the hostess who is looking at him with the most suggestive look, ticking something off inside your mind.

"Uh...they already did," you mention, your fingers curling into your palms, trying to stop you from saying anything further.

Loki has learned to read that look you have on your face right now. The look of having something to say but letting anything out for the fear of something awful.

"And?"

He watches you blink, take in a lungful and sit straight in your seat before finally speaking.

"It...um...there are a couple of things that I...what I'm trying to s-"

"She made me run an intense background check on the list. None of them is worth letting into your business," Heimdall finishes all your anxiety for you and creates another tide nonetheless.

Loki eyes you with curiosity first and you are still trying to make sense of what he is thinking before he pulls your laptop towards him and eyes the list.

"What's wrong with the Silvercombs?"

You turn to Heimdall, who simply tilts his head to let you take charge on this one.

"The heir to the business is the elder son. He's..." you tilt your hands in the traditional gesture of 'that's how it is', "a known socialite who has been stealing money from the company's charity to fund his extravagant parties."

You can hear Loki click and swipe on your machine, watching the stills and captured CCTV footage of the man being involved in everything that is wrong.

"Okay," Loki's brow does a little wave, letting it seep in, "what about Dante and Bradburn?"

"Involved in sex trafficking," you say softly, wrapping one hand on your opposite arm, rubbing your thumb over the skin that can feel the goosebumps come in waves over the surface.

"Smith and Darby?"

"Darby is renouncing the partnership soon. He is leaving the empire to settle with his new wife in the Himalayas after they lost their daughter in an accident. Smith doesn't know about the decision yet but Heimdall thinks he will grow suspicious of the fund flow within the next month or two which might not be good for the employees if there isn't a contingency plan that can bear Smith's temper."

"Would you like anything else with your champagne, sir?"

The hostess practically coos at Loki, making you wish you'd just taken an economy flight, never having to witness the ridiculousness that you were seeing right now.

"No, thank you," Loki sits up to look at you, not even breathing in that woman's direction, who- you admit to yourself- seems like Victoria's Secret model on her off days, "so no one on that list is clean?"

"How about some s-"

"Excuse me," Loki breaks the woman's coy composure with just a thread of iciness, "I am trying to have a conversation with her, do you mind?"

It is hard to look at the poor lady trying to keep herself together as she goes away but not that hard when you realise you are the only one on the plane without any refreshments.

"There are two companies we weren't able to find much about. Anvil Corp and Goliath Inc. Nothing is given about the owners on the company's website. The VPs are ordinary people and are as clean as a human can be but I still have my doubts."

The captain of the flight welcomes every passenger by their name before announcing take off, making you the first one to fasten your seatbelt as the engine comes to life.

No further conversation is made as you see the gravel move back from outside your window.

What your mildly anxious heart does not notice is the three pair of eyes discreetly glued on to you, looking for any signs of discomfort that might need external aid.

Loki can see your eyes shut close- partially due to the uneasiness of the flight, partially due to the heaviness in your head thanks to a sleepless night- while your fingers try to dig into the leather of the armrests. He cannot help but notice how your breathing accelerates with every second as his mind counts the gap between every inhale. You open your eyes just for a few moments, making the mistake of looking outside just as the plane tilts and the dew in your eyes is clearly visible to the man sitting opposite you.

Without wasting another bit he reaches into his pant pockets and takes out a silver strip of some medicine.

"Here," he calls out to you, "John recommended me this for my...travelling sickness. Take a tablet."

You look at the silver strip, sending its reflection everywhere inside the plane, wondering for a moment about the medicine before throwing every precaution out the door to take it from his hand and popping one inside your mouth.

The little tablet tastes sweet on the tip of your tongue, readily dissolving in your mouth. Within minutes you start feeling your nerves relax, your breathing ease up, and your hands unwind. That's what it takes to finally have slumber engulf you in its embrace.

"What did you give her?" Heimdall whispers at Loki with a hint of anger, frustration and worry swirling inside his voice.

"An SOS for anxiety," Loki whispers back, looking at the unconvinced face of the watcher, "oh relax! Her doctor recommended it. And I know that you know."

Heimdall does not counter him. Instead, he watches him get up and take the seat next to Robert and Heimdall, swivelling the furniture towards them in order to face them more comfortably.

"Did you find anything?"

Heimdall watches Loki's gaze go further than where he sits, following it to see Robert produce a file for both the spectators. He takes the file and opens it for him and Loki to see. Inside is the entire life of a man that goes by the name Harrison Wardwell.

"There is a five-year timeline from about ten years ago when he was in the same city as Kira," Robert whispers, pointing at the activities of the man during that time along with pictures of him from every source that is at his disposal. "It looked like coincidence first until I found out he used to work with her mother's sister. According to the photographs on her social media, they dated for a while before he decided to end things and move away."

Both Heimdall and Loki study the timeline intensely, letting the information be etched in their brains.

Loki's eyes wandering eyes pause over Robert when he watches him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is it?"

Robert breathes in before turning to look at you sleeping, hearing you snore lightly.

"During that time, Kira frequently visited her family doctor for various ailments," Robert hesitates a bit before continuing, "her doctor had coded her file with symptoms of depression. And...more."

Both spectators looked on at the copy of notes Robert had put inside the file.

*Patient shows symptoms of depression...family not been able to catch up...Does not express anything...as if...in shock...unable to register her surroundings...avoids talking to the male staff in the hospital...*

The flip of the page forces Robert to glue his eyes on Heimdall and Loki, reading every minute change in their expression when they see what seems like a family photograph with a recognisable Harrison and barely identifiable- not to mention too young- Kira not smiling for the camera while the former keeps his hand on her shoulder.

.

"I was not expecting this."

"It's Tony Stark. What else were you expecting?"

You look at Loki with a mixture of confusion and frown.

What the hell do you mean 'It's Tony Stark...'

"But...it's an expo ..." you try to reason with yourself than with Loki as the cars that picked you up from the airport now slowly take you through the gates of what seems like a little heaven made right in Anthony Edward Stark's city.

There are cars coming in and going out through this estate that is covered in more green than the entire New York City combined. Striking villas lineup two streets, nearly making you miss the lake right in the middle of lush green golf grounds lying at the back of those too-good-to-be-true houses.

Wait. Will we be staying in one of these...mansions? you wonder through the window when another lane filled with better villas named after a flower passed by. But I just left a mansion!

Turning another lane, the driver stops the vehicle after just a few meters.

"The reception, Madam, Sir," he announces.

You are trying to let his words seep through your brain when the door on your side opens with fair greetings.

"Welcome to Potts Sunrise Estate," the concierge greets, indirectly urging you to get out of the car.

The air smells of grass and something sweet and sensational that you cannot put your finger on. The sun is brighter and the sky is clearer than you'd seen eleven hours before. There are birds chirping somewhere in the distance while a few people are going in and out of the reception, some of them meeting up like long lost friends, which, a part of you envies for a withering moment.

"I'll go see what Stark's kept in store for us," Loki mentions, adjusting his jacket before turning to Robert and Heimdall- getting out of the car behind you.

You see them exchange a nod before Robert takes out the luggage and Heimdall excuses himself, telling the former to go ahead while he 'takes care of some business'.

Great. I'm invisible I guess.

The reception is nothing too over the top but a decent room of glass supported by wooden beams and decorated with plants, vines and windchimes- housing a place for the people who are responsible for helping out the guests. By the east side in the present shade sits a statue of Buddha in meditation and opposite to it in the lawn is a swing chair in white. The windchimes strike a duet with the breeze that puts your soul in a happy mood.

"No, but you don't get it, Hope. I'd love to stay in one of those mansions because it's day time. But the moment the sun goes down I'd be running around for the smallest box to hide in because my brain won't stop playing 'Tip-toe by the window'. It's the monkey brain, hon. Can't do nothin' about it."

You turn around to watch a fair-skinned man with eyes filled with so much light, you think they might start shedding tears of pure sunshine at any moment. The woman with him is his total opposite. Filled with grace and composure that dances with her hair bouncing off her shoulder, away from the collar of the white pantsuit she is dressed in.

"All I asked you was whether you picked the key of our chalet from reception or not," the woman decrees, walking away, the man following her like a puppy lost in love.

"Also I don't get half the people arriving here in three-piece suits. The expo doesn't start till tomorrow. What are you guys, business jocks?" He raises his hands in question, making eye contact with you halfway when he sees your eyes light up at the topic.

"Oh my God," you chime, "right?"

Like a hundred light bulbs turning on at once, his face lights up as he points his index finger at you in the friendliest 'hey, she gets me!' gesture.

"See?" he tries to show Hope another human who agrees with him before turning back towards you to shout, "love your shirt."

You look down at the Lord of The Rings themed blue shirt matched with black cotton palazzo pants, smiling at the thought of looking anything near decent in this. That too after an eleven-hour flight.

"Thank you!" you nearly yell back, turning towards the reception with a huge smile on your face, nearly bumping into a very curious Loki.

You try to hide the joy on your face so as to compose yourself in his presence, clearing your throat to try and explain the reason for this absurd goofiness.

"Twenty."

"Hm?"

"The chalet booked for us. Number twenty."

"Oh. Okay."

You both walk behind the concierge helping you out with the luggage.

Wait.

The chalet booked for us. Us. Us-us?

How many rooms does a chalet have?

What even is a chalet?

.

"Ah, rooms," you sigh with relief on walking in another room on the upper floor. With three rooms in all- two bedrooms with attached bathrooms on the first floor and one of similar nature downstairs apart from the cosy living room with an open kitchenette- you are already falling in love with this place.

"Keep these in the room upstairs and the rest in this room," you hear Loki's voice from the living room downstairs.

Your belongings have been moved to the room attached to the hall while his stuff has moved up to the supposed 'master bedroom'.

When did chivalry die to make him the boss of all decisions?

You feel the jetlag catalyse with this microscopic bitterness rising inside you. Is the same man who comforted me- in his own way- last night?

The bell breaks the heaviness rising around you.

Loki looks from behind the kitchen counter as you walk towards the main door to open it.

An attendant with a kind smile stands with a letter over a box of chocolates in his hand.

"Invitation from Miss Potts and Mister Stark," he announces ever so politely, inclining Loki to take a few steps towards the door but not come any closer for that man to directly hand him the letter.

"Oh, what for?" you ask excitedly.

"Welcome dinner in honour of all the guests gathered here in the name of the brighter future with Stark Industries," he responds with a little bow.

You are looking in the plain yet elegant invitation in your hand- clearly Pepper's choice- too overwhelmed by the thought to finally meet her after such a long time.

"We will be awaiting your presence at dinner tonight," the attendant seems to conclude, again with a bow, "Mr and Mrs Odinson."

You hear your soul scream while it dies and rises from its grave simultaneously.

"W-ha-no-uhhh...I-we are...no...uhh..."

Words have abandoned you in the forest drowned in the thickest blanket of snow. The animals are all looking at you with pure judgement in their eyes while you're trying to explain that one arctic monkey you are not made for an ice-water lunge as he continues to look at you in confusion.

And through all this chaotic silence, Loki is that one sane fox who lets go of a tired breath and steps forward to close the door in that monkey's face, finally putting a stop to the verbal stroke you just suffered.

.

"It is supposed to be dinner!"

"With the most influential people in the world!"

"So?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...hello?"

"You and Loki truly deserve each other-"

"Gustav!"

"-s company!"

You look at your phone screen with the urge to break through it and shake Gustav by his collar.

"I am not wearing that thing to dinner tonight."

"So you're letting all those hours of sweat and tears of mine go to waste?"

"This is pure blackmail."

"Is it though?" you can clearly hear that rusty teasing edge in his voice.

"Come on, man, this...this thing," you hesitate before lowering your voice to a whisper, "it's too revealing!"

The knock on your room's door is slight but that doesn't mean it isn't enough to make you jump where you sit in your bathrobe, nearly throwing your phone away.

"Kira, are you decent?"

I'm fucking terrified if that matters!

"Y-yes," you declare, letting Loki turn the handle to your door and step in.

You have to catch your breath in order to not blurt out what all you feel when you see him at that moment.

Loki has cleaned up nicely. The three-piece suit- sheen black over the smaragdine shirt- fits him a bit too perfectly. The pants around his long legs are just the right length to complement them. The shirt is loose enough to look comfortable but not loose enough to feel shaggy on him. His hair has been swept back quite thoroughly and his presence smells of jasmine wrapping a street in a village that sells its freshest herbs and spices.

"You...are not ready yet," he mentions after a quick scan of you, head to toe.

"You look nice," you are finally able to speak, now realising what he just said. "Oh, yeah. I'll um...don't worry. You go ahead. I'll catch up at the villa," you assure him, trying to breathe in between words to keep your brain working.

Loki gives you a thoughtful look before turning around to go towards the door. "Don't get lost on your way."

Just this once you excuse his insult and go back to the call you were concerned about a few seconds ago.

"Uhh..."

"He looks riveting, doesn't he," Gustav states in the most casual way.

"...that would be an understatement," you whisper, fearing he might be hearing you from somewhere close by.

"You don't have to fight with me, dear. Just ask yourself what you would like to feel tonight."

Feel? Feel.

And like the unforeseen monsoon winds hitting smack in the middle of a hot summer, your wet dream starring you and Loki flashes right before your eyes.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror next to the bed, thinking what you are already feeling right this second.

"I want to feel..." you do not realise you are thinking out loud saying the words as they form.

"I want to feel that dangerous spark tonight," you conclude.

"Well...?" Gustav's voice reflects all shades of excitement.

Filling your lungs with air, you straighten your back, watching those callow eyes turn a shade darker to reveal something that has been long asleep.

"What footwear do you think would look great with that dress?"

[siriuslysnuffles]

injuries and prats

JILY CHALLENGE | @siriuslysnuffles vs @beks21 (September 2017)

@jilychallenge: First Wizarding World + Yes james might be injured and yes ow that hurts but lily stop fussing I am a gryffindor i can do this… I will just need lots of snuggles and attention to get me back to full health.

Read it on FF. 

It all started when Sirius suggested they go out for drinks after their latest Order meeting. Alice and Frank Longbottom had declined the offer due to an important Auror mission in the morning–Moody had given them a led to follow–but Gideon and Fabian Prewett along with Marlene McKinnon had accepted the invitation.

The three of them along with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and the soon to be Mr and Mrs James Potter sat at a large booth at the Three Broomsticks, being in close proximity to Hogwarts made the still young adults feel safer knowing that Voldemort would not yet dare attack the Wizarding Village with Dumbledore so close by.

‘Drinks are on me,’ Sirius’ boisterous voice announced as he stood up. 'Coming James or is Evans wishing to have you attached at the hip?’

'Perhaps,’ the hazel-eyed boy declared. 'But what beautiful hips they are,’ he sent a wink to his fiancée as he stood to accompany the other dark-haired boy.

'Prat,’ he heard said fiancée mumble.

'You love me,’ he yelled back.

'So how’s the wedding coming along, Lily?’ Marlene asked from across the booth.

Lily’s eyes wandered over to James, examining every visible part of his body. 'Busy but worth it. It’s still a while away, we’re not marrying until mid-October. But I can’t wait to marry him.’ She laughed, 'That’s not something I thought I would ever say considering our earlier years.’

'How about the the future-in-laws? Do they like you?’

'They adore Lily,’ Remus said across from her where he had been having a discussion with the Prewett brothers and Peter. 'She has them wrapped around her little fingers, more so than James.’

'I do not,’ she objected.

Remus scoffed, 'Liar.’

'Why is Evans a liar?’ Sirius asked as he set down a bottle of firewhiskey with James clumsily carrying eight small shot glasses. 'Besides the fact that she says she finds this git attractive.’

'Oy, I am attractive.’ James pouted as they laughed. 'You find me attractive, right, love?’ He pouted at the green-eyed girl.

'Only on Quidditch days.’ She teased, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he sat down next to her. The hazel-eyed boy pouted but even so let one of his hands wrap around her waist, letting his thumb draw circles on her leg in a way that made her mind wander to the rest of his very fine anatomy.

'She claims to not have James nor his parents wrapped around her fingers.’ Remus said answering Sirius’ previous question.

'Drunk already, Red?’ Sirius teased.

'Watch it, Black.’ Lily said attempting to glare at the handsome boy.

'And how did you get to the topic of my wife-to-be being a liar?’ James grinned at them, at his brothers.

'We were speaking of your parents’ adoration of Lily, their soon to be daughter-in-law.’ Remus clarified.

'They adore her, mum always wanted a daughter to pamper,’ James said casually, 'and dad fell in love with her the moment she mentioned her love of potions. Probably would have married her himself if he was eighty years younger.’

'And if your mum wasn’t in the picture, I’d take him over you any day, Potter. He’s a charming man and quite the looker.’ Snickers were heard around the table as the couple bantered.

'You love me,’ he countered, dropping a kiss onto her neck followed by wolf whistles from Marlene, Sirius and the Prewetts. 'You adore me, face it, love.’

'You’re tolerable, I only keep you around because you’re nice to look at.’

'Only nice to look at?’

'I say you must be a great shag, Prongs, if you’re only nice to look at,’ Sirius barked.

James ignored him, focusing his attention on the pretty redhead. He let his lips linger an inch from hers, 'Only nice to look at,’ he repeated.

'Occasionally, the hair’s a bit of a turnoff,’ her eyes seemed to sparkle as she teased him. Her fingers threaded itself through his ebony locks.

'A turnoff?’ he said leaning in to kiss her.

'Oi, lovebirds, as much fun as it would be to watch you co-populate the planet, please refrain from doing so on the table. Rosmerta might not let us return.’

James threw a napkin at Sirius, 'Wanker.’

'Are they always this nauseating?’ Marlene asked causing the rest of them to laugh.

'The only thing worse was before they dated.’ Remus added.

'‘Lily doesn’t fancy me,’’ Peter mimicked.

'‘James isn’t interested anymore,’’ Sirius sighed dramatically.

'Bugger off,’ Lily said, 'you’re all twats.’

James kissed her temple lightly, 'Unfortunately, these twats are our friends, love.’

'Can’t we find new ones?’ she begged, batting her eyelashes.

'Too close to the wedding, not worth it.’

'Darn it.’

'Tossers,’ Sirius grey eyes, however, shone with love for his two mates. 

'Hey, Evans,’ Sirius said taking another shot of firewhiskey, 'tell us the truth,’ he slurred, 'how good of a shag is Prongs?’

'Wouldn’t you like to know,’ Gideon laughed.

'Or perhaps he wants to know if he has any competition for Lily. Always suspected there was something more going on.’ Fabian said.

'Ah, you’ve discovered my plan to woo the beautiful Evans.’ Sirius proclaimed loudly. 'What do you say, Evans, snog me?’

'Not in a million years, Padfoot,’ she grinned, 'my heart belongs to this spectacled git.’

'So many compliments you’ve given me tonight, my love. Git, nice to look at, it’s obvious why you’re marrying me.’ James said, wrapping an arm around her. 'It’s obviously the glasses.’

She laughed. 'Obviously,’ she teased.

'What else would it be?’ Sirius asked, 'He’s an idiot.’

'Oy!’ James exclaimed.

'Don’t be mean, Black, he’s a deer.’ Lily said a mischievous look in her eyes.

'Yes, the way he’s always fawning over you,’ said Remus.

'I heard he’s rather horny doe.’ Sirius barked back.

'Not to mention always prancing about, up to no good.’ Peter added in causing James and Lily to lose the little self control they had left.

'Are we missing something?’ Marlene asked, raising her eyebrows at them.

'Not at all, McKinnon, we’re just like talking about our deer friends.’

'Right,’ said Fabian, 'And do you usually talk about their randy tendencies?’

'Not all the times,’ said Peter.

'Only occasionally,’ Sirius smirked.

'As in a few times a week,’ confirmed Remus.

'And you’re still friends with them?’ Gideon asked the couple.

'Eh, we’re hoping to get some new ones after the wedding.’ Lily answered.

'Maybe we’ll replace them with Alice and Frank, we can double date.’ James added.

'Well, as fun as this has been I think I better get going. I have to be at St. Mungo’s in the morning for my shift.’ Marlene said getting up to leave, 'Thanks for the drinks.’

'We’ll escort you, McKinnon. Can never be sure nowadays.’ Fabian said, motioning for Gideon.

'Be safe, McKinnon, Prewett one, Prewett two.’ Sirius said nodding at them.

'Next times on me, enjoy yourselves,’ said Marlene as she gave them brief smiles. The group each said variants of goodbye to the trio.

'I have to head home soon, mum might freak out if I’m home too late,’ Peter reluctantly said after ten minutes had passed.

'Might want to have a mint before you leave, mate, can’t have your mum thinking we’re corrupting you.’

'So you want to deceive her?’ Remus asked.

'Might get my own place soon, so it doesn’t matter anyways.’

'Where are you thinking, Wormy?’ Lily asked.

'Perhaps an apartment in London, near Diagon Alley.’ He stood up, 'I’ll see you guys soon, yeah?’ His voice hinted at his uncertainty.

'Yeah, we’ll see you soon, Pete. Come over whenever.’

'I’ll walk with you, may as well head home, a bit knackered really.’ Remus said standing up as well.

'Bye,’ Lily said getting up to give them each a hug, 'and I’ll expect a visit from both of you soon.’ She turned to glare at Remus, 'I mean it, Moony, and stop keeping your distance because of your self-loathing dilemma, or I will personally go over and hex your arse off.’

'And we all know that’s your best feature, mate.’ Sirius grinned teasingly.

Remus ignore him before addressing the redhead, 'Bye, Lily,’ he said before leaving with Peter.

'Love, don’t be so hard on him, you know he thinks he’s doing the right thing.’ James said planting a kiss on her temple.

'Well, he’s being a right git about it,’ she argued.

'Git or not he’s our mate.’ Sirius said casually, 'And you’re stuck with all of us once you marry this idiot.’

'Oy,’ James protested, 'I can always take you to one of those dog places Lily was telling me about, you mutt.’

'The pound, love.’ She sighed dramatically, 'How’d I get so unfortunate to be stuck with two?’

'You love us.’

'Can’t live without us.’ Sirius added.

'I wonder if it’s too late to leave you both, maybe I could marry someone with a brain.’ Lily teased.

'You wouldn’t leave me,’ James said, snuggling into her neck. 'You like me too much.’ He peppered kisses onto her neck knowing this was probably the longest time he’d get to spend with her in the upcoming weeks, even if Sirius was gazing amusingly at them.

He could have swore he heard her let out a small moan. 'James, we’re in public.’ He reluctantly stopped.

'So me making out with Mae Darby in the corridor is disgusting, but you two basically shagging here isn’t?’ Sirius groaned.

'Because my tongue isn’t down James’ throat like hers was down yours.’ Lily said.

'I wouldn’t mind if it was,’ James grinned cheekily at her.

'Shut it, you prat,’ she said throwing a crisp at him which the dork attempted (and failed) to catch in his mouth.

'You think we should head out, it’s getting pretty late,’ James said running his hand through his hair, 'we’re supposed to be meeting a few people for wedding planning, then we’re supposed to go to a few bakeries to try out cakes, your house to pick up your mum and take her over to my parents’.’ James returned to snuggling into Lily’s neck. 'Why can’t we just elope, I’m sure Muggles do it all the time.’

'Andromeda and her husband Ted did as well,’ Sirius added.

'Because I only plan on getting married once and want to enjoy it with those I care about, it’ll be worth it. I promise.’ He groaned into her neck, 'Shall we head out then?’

'Yeah, I am a bit tired,’ she agreed detaching herself from her soon-to-be husband. 'Coming, Padfoot?’

He smiled fondly at her, like an older brother, 'Yeah, Red, let’s go before this tosser decides he can’t resist your womanly wiles any longer.’

'My womanly wiles?’ she questioned, raising one of her eyebrows slightly as James slid out after her.* Sirius only stopping in his movements to leave Madame Rosmerta a galleon in her tip jar followed by a cheeky wink.

James sweetly took her hand in his. 'Yes, your feminine powers that allow you to control my best mate,’ Sirius continued.

'Perhaps your mate is just weak when it comes to pretty girls,’ she replied. James began to protest but she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, lingering momentarily.

'Very pretty,’ he mumbled instead, blushing slightly as he regarded his fiancée.

They exited the establishment, not knowing through their slightly intoxicated phase that they were being watched by a particular group of Death Eaters who had been not too far away at the Hog’s Head–Severus Snape, Atreus Avery, Marcus Mulciber, and Evan Rosier. Little did they know that as soon as they had been seen exiting, Evan Rosier had raised his wand and aimed a hex at Lily Evans. 

The hex never reached its mark as Sirius Black turned around, taking the hit instead.

'Sirius!’ Lily screamed as the boy staggered back from the force of the spell. James, on the other hand, raised his wand as he saw four figures approach, all donning masks.

'Well, well, well what do we have here. Two blood-traitors and a mudblood whore.’ Avery said, enunciating every word.

James attempted to shield Lily, but she saw right through his efforts and stood upfront. 'I’d rather be a mudblood whore as you so kindly put it than be a coward who doesn’t want to show his face, Avery.’

Sirius who had been hit with a slightly painful and inconvenient stinging hex let out a laugh. 'I do very much love you, Red.’ Lily smiled affectionately at him in a way that told Severus that she loved him too in a way she had once loved him.

'Proclaiming your love for a mudblood, Black?’ Avery scoffed, 'And here I thought you couldn’t be anymore of mudblood lover. Do you two take turns with her in bed, shagging the filthy mudblood?’

'Wouldn’t you like to know,’ James growled, 'Do you get pleasure imagining it, since no girl with dignity would ever touch you.’

'Enough, Avery,’ Rosier whined, 'You said you we’d have some fun, and I’d very much like to see the mudblood on her knees, begging for mercy.’ He twirled his wand in his hands taunting her to hex him.

James gripped her wrist gently begging her with his hazel eyes to just stand behind him, but he very much knew she’d never allow herself to do such a thing–he both loved and hated that about her.

Sirius stepped in front of her, despite Lily’s protesting. 'Touch a hair on her head, and you won’t even remember your name, Rosier.’ He scoffed, 'I’d recognize your annoying voice anywhere.’

'Like I’m scared of the blood-traitor, but I’ll be sure to tell Regulus you said hello,’ Sirius could hear the smirk in his voice. 'He’ll be upset he didn’t join us tonight, I’m sure the Dark Lord will find something to cheer him up of course.’

James and Lily had their wands out knowing that Sirius’ temper was not easily maintained when it came to his brother, and they were right when a second later Sirius had sent a jinx at Rosier that threw him back.

They heard the grin in Mulciber’s voice as he said, 'I guess it’s time to show the blood-traitors and mudblood who’s really in charge. The Dark Lord will thank us for ridding him of this rubbish.’ He sneered looking at Lily, 'Nice ring, Evans.' 

Severus looked down at Lily’s left hand because she couldn’t have possibly agreed to marry the pompous prat, the arrogant toerag they spent time laughing at and insulting his presumptuous behavior (although if he were being honest with himself, he’d recall that most of the insults had been of his doing with Lily assuring him that she thought Potter to be an arrogant toerag; he’d also recall that the laughter had on occasion been one of hidden affection). He saw what he feared, there on her fourth finger was an engagement ring. Severus glared at it, knowing no one could see his facial expression. It was a beautiful ring, he reluctantly admitted to himself, simple yet beautiful–he knew Lily loved the ring, it was the kind of simplicity she adored. He loathed that it was the kind of thing he would never have been able to afford for her, he hated that Potter was claiming her as his own when she was Severus’, he hated that Lily had agreed to marry the git who had tormented Severus, who had taken Lily away from him.

It broke his heart.

Severus had been so caught up in his thought that he was barely able to dodge the hex sent his way by Black. 

Lily aimed a hex at Mulciber as he attempted to circle around her as if she were his prey. She let her eyes briefly fleet over to James who was taking on who she believed to be Avery, she couldn’t quite tell with his mask on. She flinched as she saw him be hit with a rather harsh stinging hex and felt her blood boil at anyone daring to hurt him.

'So when’s the wedding,’ Mulciber hissed, as she blocked another one of his spells.

'Can’t say, it’s a family and friends only event. I’m afraid James and I left off sadistic Death Eaters when we made the list.’ She hit him with a rather nasty blasting curse, which he mostly managed to block. She was glad to note that it did, however, manage to cause his mask to fall off when he staggered backwards. 'What a tragedy really.’

'You, bitch,’ he growled as he stood up.

'I didn’t think you wanted to come to our wedding this desperately, Marcus,’ she sent a jelly-fingers curse at his wand hand enjoying the look of terror that crossed his features as he attempted to grasp his wand right. 'Are you having trouble?’ She asked innocently.

'You’ll pay for that, mudblood.’

'Seeing as you can barely hold a wand, I’m hardly frightened.’ She saw James be hit by some severing spell and decided to stun Mulciber instead, 'Well, this was pleasant,’ she murmured bitterly before going to help the boys.

'Need me, lads?’ she questioned as she cast a non-verbal shield charm.

'Always, love,’ said James as his spell knocked over one of the other Death Eaters. She cast a full body-bind on him for good measures.

'Don’t get all romantic on us now, Prongs, you’ll have time for that later,’ Sirius said as his Death Eater took advantage of his distraction and got the better of him, sending him crashing to the ground.

'Are you all right, Sirius?’ she asked, not bothering to turn around to look at him, knowing she couldn’t afford the distraction.

'S’all right, Red,’ she could hear him struggling to get up, and she knew it must be taking all of James’ self-control not to go to his best mate.

'Lie down, we have it under control.’

'Yes, listen to the mudblood, Black,’ Rosier scoffed. 'You wouldn’t want to damage your so called dashing looks.’

She heard his struggles again, 'Black, down, or Merlin help me, I will hex you.’ She could almost imagine the pout on his face.

'Careful, love,’ James said as a stinging jinx hit her wrist.

James kept glancing back at her, making sure she was alright and his opponent was taking advantage of that, throwing stronger and darker spells at him.

Rosier finally managed to blast Lily to the ground, she saw Sirius trying to crawl over to her (but was struggling to do so), she shook her head at him, but he persisted.

Rosier raised his wand, going in for the final blow. She look up at him, daring him to do his worst. Right when the spell should have hit her, she felt a body land on top of her instead. James.

'James, what are you,’ she trailed off as she heard him let out a groan. 'James,’ she whispered, holding onto him by his waist. She felt something sticky on her hand.

She saw Evan Rosier take off his mask, wanting her to see his joy at James’ fall.

She saw Sirius finally managing to stand up. She could feel the anger radiating from his body as she attempted to get James to move. 'James, please, get up,’ she said but the only sign that he was okay was the small whimper he emitted.

'Sirius, we have to get him out of here,’ she was panicking, she couldn’t lose him, not him. 'James, I’m going to push you off me okay,’ she asked him as Sirius managed to petrify the two remaining Death Eaters. 

Severus lied on the ground, petrified watching as his Lily cried over James Potter’s body, assuring him (or really herself) that it would be alright. A part a him wanted her to suffer for choosing him over Severus, but part of him still wanted her and hated her for it. He didn’t regret his spell landing on Potter, he deserved it for turning his Lily against him. 

'Jamie, you’re going to be okay, yeah? And we’ll can even elope, just be okay,’ she cried gently as Sirius limped over to her. All hints of her slightly intoxicated state gone.

'Muggle Vegas?’ he groaned lightly from his spot on the ground. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob.

'We have to get him out of here, Lil,’ he said as he approached them, slightly limping.

'Can you even apparate,’ she asked him skeptically as she tried to get the blood to stop.

'James is in danger, nothing will stop me from helping my brother–not even Merlin himself,’ looking up at Sirius she smiled–grimaced–at him, he looked very much like an avenging angel.

'Can we apparate him? He’s losing too much blood, he could get worse if we try to apparate him.’

'It’s better to have him splinched than dead and surrounded by Death Eaters whose spells are bound to fade any moment.’

'Expecto Patronum,’ Lily said as she cried, remembering her first kiss with James, the first time she told him she loved him and how nervous she’d been, she remembered Sirius giving her a piggyback ride by the lake one summer day, and getting proposed to by that same lake. She thought of all the time they’ve put into their dream wedding, how Fleamont was going to give her away to his son. She thought of how much she loved James Potter, and she watched as the silver doe that complimented James’ stag erupted from her wand. 'Find Albus Dumbledore, Emmeline Vance, and Edgar Bones and tell them to meet us at James and Lily’s flat.’ She watched the doe nod before prancing away.

'Stay awake, love,’ she whispered in James’ ear.

'Anything for you, my love,’ she gripped his arm gently and waited for him to do the same before they apparated to the flat they shared.

It took ten minutes of Lily and Sirius’ failed attempts at stopping the blood for Emmeline, Edgar, and Albus Dumbledore to show up for along with Alastor Moody.

'What’s wrong, Lily?’ Emmeline asked as soon as Lily swung the door open, ushering them in. She was covered in blood and wasn’t her usually composed self.

'It’s James,’ she said softly, as if that would stop the reality that was occurring around her, 'we were attacked by Death Eaters, James saw that Rosier got the better of me, I was on the ground, and he was about to hex me, but James covered his body with mine and took the spell intended for me and one from his own Death Eater.’ She led them into the bedroom where James was struggling not to sleep. 'We’ve tried everything we could think of, but his cut just keeps opening.’

Emmeline and Edgar approached James, who sleepily acknowledged them, and Sirius who had yet to speak. 'Don’t fall asleep just yet, Potter,’ Emmeline said softly examining the shirtless boy. She took in the cut and bruises that had began forming over his body.

'What was he hit with,’ Edgar asked as he but his medical bag on the floor.

'We don’t know, they both cast the spells non-verbally,’ she answered.

'Have you been giving him anything,’ Emmeline asked, touching James cut, causing all three of the teenagers* to flinch.

'Some blood replenishing potions, that’s all.’

Emmeline nodded, 'We need all of you to leave the room.’

'What?’ Sirius said in his ‘I am this close to hexing you’ voice, 'You can’t be bloody serious!’

'I am a healer, let me do my job and save your best mate’s skin, can you do that for me?’ Sirius stomped off, like a child who had just been told off.

Lily affectionately ran her hand through James hair, 'Be good, yeah?’

'I’ll try,’ he whispered. She followed Sirius out the room where Moody and Dumbledore were discussing something.

She saw Moody’s dark eyes zeroed in on Sirius and her, 'Just say whatever you’re going to say, Moody,’ Sirius said exasperated.

'What were you doing getting intoxicated? How many times have I told you to be on guard,’ he growled at them. 'You must be on guard twenty-four seven, this war does not take a break to allow you to take a few pints.’

'Do you think we don’t realize that,’ Lily said angrily, 'I am covered in my fiancé’s blood right now and have no desire to stand here listening to how much we cocked-up, so if you could please refrain yourself from doing so until after we find out how he’ll be, I’d very much appreciate it.’ Lily stormed over to the sofa, where Sirius joined her, taking her hand in his. Moody looked as if someone had hexed him while Professor Dumbledore had a sad smile on his face, his blue eyes dull.

'What happened, Lily?’ his kind eyes looked over at her patiently.

'We went to get drinks with Marlene, Fabian, Gideon, Remus, and Peter,’ she began tiredly, 'They left, we stayed behind for a bit–we didn’t drink that much–and when we left someone tried cursing me, Sirius took the hit…’ she glared at the boy, hitting him softly, 'You could have been hurt, you git.'– 'So much for girls wanting chivalry,’ he mumbled– 'There were four Death Eaters, a bit of a banter, and we ended up fighting. I stunned my Death Eater, then went to help the lads. Sirius’ Death Eater got the better of him, he was knocked down and couldn’t fight. Rosier got the best of me–’

'Rosier?’ Moody questioned.

'Yes, he was one of the Death Eaters there,’ she sighed, 'He got the best of me, I was on the ground and was about to get thrown who knows what when James’ body covered mine. He took the curse meant for me and took another curse from his Death Eater.’

'Who was there?’ Moody asked.

'Evan Rosier, Marcus Mulciber, Atreus Avery, and I’m not sure who the last one was,’ Sirius said annoyed, 'Should have given them a good hex while I had the chance.’

'Did you see them without their masks?’ Dumbledore asked.

'Only Mulciber and Rosier, Avery and the other guy were too cowardly to take theirs off–not that Mulciber had a choice.’

'And you have no idea who the other Death Eater was,’ Moody probed.

'No, I jus–’

She interrupted him, 'I think it was Severus Snape,’ she said quietly. She had thought about it hard, and it made sense, she remembered a day by the lake when James had first asked her out, she remembered the cut that had appeared on his face. She knew Severus had created a spell (maybe more), but she never wanted to believe the spells were hurtful–not back then anyways.

'Mr Snape?’ Dumbledore asked puzzled, 'And why do you believe so?’

'He hates James, more than anyone. He’s used it one James before–during fifth year–although not to this degree.’

'I see,’ he said pensively. 

They were kept in the dark, Edgar had only come in once to check on Lily and Sirius and make sure they weren’t badly injured. They both seemed to be fine outside except for Sirius’ limping and a few bruised. On the inside, however, they felt like an important part of them was missing with only the person next to them able to understand.

They were kept in the dark to ponder whether James Potter would be okay, whether the redhead and the handsome boy next to her would have a funeral to attend rather than wedding. 

It was an hour before Emmeline came into the living room. Moody and Dumbledore had left by then. Lily and Sirius had decided not to tell Mr and Mrs Potter nor Peter and Remus until they found out more.

'How is he?’ Sirius hurried to ask.

'He’ll be fine, but he’ll probably be in a bit of pain for a few days, maybe weeks.’ Lily saw Sirius flinch slightly, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 'The spell, luckily didn’t cut any major organs, but they were close. He has quite a few bruises, nothing we can do about that, but they’ll heal.’

'Is he awake?’ Lily asked.

'No, Edgar gave him a sleeping draught, he was quite tired. You can go see him if you like.’ Her smile was sympathetic, 'Let him sleep as much as he can, poor thing lost a lot of blood. I start my shift soon, so I have to leave, but Edgar will tell you everything you need to know.’

'All right, thank you, Emmeline.’

'Thanks, Vance,’ Sirius said before he barged into the bedroom.

'Sirius,’ Lily hissed going after him with a swift wave at Emmeline, 'he’s supposed to rest not have you barging in on him and disrupting him.’

'He won’t be up for hours with the sleeping draught, Lil,’ his grey eyes turned to look into her green ones, 'I just want to make sure my brother’s all right.’

Edgar approached them before they reached the bed. 'Hello, Lily, Sirius. Down to business, shall we?’ Lily nodded, looking towards James. 'He’ll need to take the blood-replenishing potions as soon as he wakes up, once every hours for about five hours should be enough to get his blood levels back to normal. You seem to have enough when I checked, but if you’re running low send me an owl, and I’ll send some right away. His bruises are pretty large, but they’ll heal soon enough.’

'Thank you for coming, Edgar,’ she gave him a brief smile, 'I really appreciate it, and I’m sure James will want to thank you as soon as he wakes up.’

'It’s no problem, Lily,’ he said picking up his bag.

'Speaking of which, not that I’m not grateful, Edgar, but when is he waking up?’ Sirius said, glancing from Edgar to James.

'This particular draught should keep him asleep until late morning, maybe until noon.’

'Thank you, Bones.’

'I’ll be leaving now, Sirius, Lily, but owl me of you have any concerns,’ he smiled once more, 'Tell James, I wish him well, and I’ll visit if I can, otherwise, I’ll send Emmeline.’

Lily gave him a huge hug, 'Thank you so much.’

'Again, it was no problem, Lily, but I must get going before my family begins to worry about me.’

'Goodnight–err morning, Edgar,’ Sirius said before transfiguring one of Lily’s vases into a comfy chair and sitting besides James.

'Have a good day, Edgar,’ she said before going to check on her James. 

'Do you want anything to change into, Padfoot?’ Lily asked as she began examining James.

She began pulling down his trousers, 'No thanks, Lil, I’m fine. Although,’ he continued with a smirk, 'do you think this is really the time to begin stripping James.’

She glared at him, 'I will hex you, Sirius,’ she sighed, 'I’m going to change him, I don’t think he’d like waking up in his own blood.’

She continued pulling down his trousers again, 'Need any help undressing him?’ he asked seriously.

'No, rest your leg,’ she said as she took one of his legs out the trousers, before doing the same with the other and discarding them to the ground where his bloody shirt already lied. She studied his chest noticing the newly acquired bruises–purple, blue, green, yellow–that donned his chest, touching them lightly and noticed a frown in his sleep.

I love you, she thought sadly, letting her fingers touch the scar on his abdomen that she could tell extended onto his back. She was very aware of Sirius’ eyes on her, watching her.

'It’s strange seeing you like this, all worried about him.’

'I always worry about him, he’s rather clumsy,’ she laughed gently. 'I worry about you too, you know. You’re my best friend, Sirius.’

'Well I see your taste has certainly improved since Hogwarts,’ he teased.

'I disagree, my standards have certainly lowered. What my fifth year self would say to befriending you and agreeing to marry this idiot,’ she said the last part affectionately, her green eyes held a certain twinkle that only confirmed Sirius’ belief that his brother was in good hands.

'She’d say you were mental, and she’d be right.’ Lily laughed.

'Perhaps,’ she began to remove James’ pants* but thought better of it. She felt a blush reach her cheeks at her audience seeing such an intimate behavior. 'You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ Lily asked.

'A bit, it’s fun to make you blush,’ he teased. 'I only wish I had one of those Muggle contraptions.’

'A video recorder,’ she asked taking out her wand and casting a cleaning spell on the sheets. She began digging into James’ cupboard. She smiled at the pajamas she grabbed, turning to show them to Sirius. 'What do you think?’

He let out a hoarse laugh, 'He’ll love it, maybe add a red nose while you’re at it, Lil.’

She proceeded to put on his green and red christmas bottoms that were adorned with reindeers that James loved to argue were stags. She remembered how James wore them every night from Boxing Day until they had to return to Hogwarts, she teased him endlessly about it when she finally found out that three-fourths of her boys being animagi. It was that Boxing Day and seeing how carefree and loving he was that she finally admitted to herself that she loved him.

She placed the grey sweatshirt with the antlers of a deer over his head, careful to not touch the bruises on his skin. She helped his arms through the sleeves before getting a duvet cover and covering him up. She placed a brief kiss on his forehead, her hand in his dark hair that never managed to lie flat.

'He looks so innocent without his glasses,’ she told Sirius.

'Bloody twat never remembers to take them off,’ she laughed along with him.

'Well, I’m going to take a shower. If I have to be covered in his blood for much longer I might vomit.’

'Sure you aren’t pregnant?’ he teased as she grabbed one of James’ t-shirts and boxers from his cupboard, undergarments from hers and gathered James’ dirty clothes from the ground. 'It would greatly explain why you agreed to marry this twat.’

'Wanker,’ she called back to him. She heard the mutt laugh. 

'You look shaggable, Evans,’ was the first thing Sirius said upon seeing her in James’ clothes, her long hair tied into a ponytail. His once chair had become a sofa.

'Unfortunately for you, I’m engaged,’ she giggled.

'I bet he’s a git,’ he teased.

'Of course he is, but I love him.’ Sirius watched her as she looked over at James, her eyes full of love and affection for his best mate, his brother. 'I love you too, you know,’ she told him, 'I meant it when I said you’re my best mate.’

'Get over here, Red,’ he said ushering her over, 'James, won’t forgive me if I steal his soon-to-be bride away from him because she’s proclaiming her love for me.’

Lily sauntered over, laying her head in his lap. 'I’m going to take a nap, you should too, Padfoot. You look awful.’

'Thanks, Princess.' 

Sirius woke up early the next morning sans a redhead in his lap. He stretched his arms over his head, getting off the sofa and checking on James. He was still asleep, drool on the side of his face that any other day Sirius would have found funny but at the moment regarded with affection. He messed up James’ hair affectionately before following the smell of food into the kitchen.

'Smells wonderful, are those pancakes I smell?’ he asked walking into the kitchen.

There stood Lily Evans in a blue polka dot dress that would have drove James crazy had he seen her. He grinned at her, 'Are you all dressed up for me?’

'You wish, you twat,’ she said throwing a bit of flour at his face.

'I wanted to look nice for when he wakes up, and I have to go do a few errands before he wakes up,’ she said as she began mixing the batter and cooking it over the Muggle contraption. 'I’m making James breakfast; fried eggs, bacon, chocolate chip pancakes, sausage. Do you think that’s enough?’

Sirius laughed, 'you’re going to make an amazing wife if your cooking always looks this good.’

'Grab whatever you want, just leave some for James. He needs his energy.’

'I need my energy too, Lil, do you not love me as much as James?’ he pouted momentarily before taking a sausage off one of the plates, 'and it’s seven in the morning, what are you doing up so early? Bones says he’ll be asleep until about noon.’

'I have to go to my mum’s and cancel the wedding plans we had today, then I have to go to Emma and Monty’s and explain that their son has been attacked by Death Eaters but will be well soon.’

'Relax for a moment,’ he said as she piled on more pancakes to the already high pile. 'Eat and relax, Evans.’

'Grab a plate,’ she said. 

An hour later, Lily had ate a nice breakfast with Sirius, feed Godric, set up a breakfast tray with heating charms and had gone to check up on James.

She placed a sweet kiss on his messy hair and gave a small smile as she saw the ghost of a smile cross his face. 'I love you,’ she whispered to the room before closing the door lightly and returning to Sirius, not before Godric was able to get through and snuggle into James’ side.

'I’ll be home before noon, if James wakes up don’t hesitate in sending me a patronus, okay?’

'I understand,’ he grinned, 'trust me, Evans.’

'I do,’ she said. 'If he wakes up, his glasses are on the counter–he’s insanely blind without them–and give him his food and the blood replenishing potion right away.’

'All right,’ he watched her in amusement as he watched her fidget trying to remember a list of how to take care of his mate. 'I sent owls to Remus and Peter in the morning, so they’ll probably stop by.’ Her wavy hair was loose, and she played with it as she tried to remember everything, 'make sure Godric doesn’t scratch James in his sleep.’

'He’d deserve it for getting you that cat, that traitor,’ he mumbled.

'Godric is almost one year old, get over it, Black,’ he could have sworn she grinned. 'I’m off, take good care of him.’

'Of course I will,’ he said. 

Lily returned around eleven with chocolate frogs, fudge, and chocolate chip cookies. A smile was brought to her face as she saw three boys in her living room playing exploding snaps.

'You couldn’t have chosen a quieter game?’ she questioned.

'What would have been the fun of that?’ Sirius’ dog-like grin looked up at her.

'He thinks that if we’re loud James will wake up,’ Remus said gathering the cards and sliding them into his robes.

'Ah, and I see who supplied him with such,’ she smiled slightly, 'And how are you, Pete?’ she said placing the food on the counter.

'I’m fine, Lily. Where’d you get all the food?’

'Emma made James some fudge after I told her he’s fine and that she shouldn’t come see him until he’s awake despite her protest, my mum made cookies and insisted I bring some back to James, and I decided to get him some chocolate frogs from Diagon Alley.’

'Bloody hell, he didn’t die, Lil.’ Sirius said causing her to turn and glare at him.

'If you care to remember,’ she said coldly, 'he could have.’

'I was there, I remember. But he’s fine now, okay. James wouldn’t like you worrying too much when he’s safe and sound.’

'You’re right, I know you’re right.’

Sirius eyes softened in the way he did for few others–the Potters, Remus, and Peter, the way they had once softened for his biological brother. 'What is it then?’

'We could have lost him, Sirius, and I think you underestimate sometimes just how much I love James,’ there were tears in her brilliant green eyes that made Sirius feel guilty. 'He’s the love of my life. He’s the only person I’ve ever loved this much, and the only person I will ever love this much. I don’t think I could function if anything happened to him, Sirius. Not anymore than you could.’

'I know you love him, never doubt that. I would have talked him out of marrying you otherwise.’

'Like you could convince him not to marry Lily Evans,’ Peter laughed.

'If anyone could, it’d be Sirius,’ she said seriously. 'I’m going to go take him breakfast and wait for him to wake up,’ she said wiping away her tears.

'Idiot,’ she heard Remus say and what sounded like someone getting punched.

Lily set the tray down on the counter next to his glasses, she went to the window and unlocked and opened the doors that led to the balcony.

She smiled at the sight of Godric curled into James’ side–although she was worried he would accidently reopen James’ cut.

'Come here, Godric,’ she petted the cat gently before picking him up and placing him on the sofa, 'Can’t have you scratching daddy.’

'I didn’t know I impregnated you with a cat,’ she heard a hoarse voice say, 'who knew stag plus human equals cat.’

'James,’ her soft voice whispered, turning around to face the handsome man on the bed. 'How are you?’

'Blind,’ he said attempting to move but struggling.

'Stay still,’ she said placing his glasses gently on his face before proceeding to scramble around the room in search of his potion.

'Is that dress new?’ he questioned her. 'It looks lovely on you, and perhaps off you as well.’

She laughed giddily as he threw a wink her way. 'You’re probably all right if you’re already thinking of ways to get me out my clothes.’

'Well mine are too lovely to take off, deer,’ she narrowed her eyes at him in mock glare. She saw him wince slightly.

'Stay still, James,’ she said as she grabbed a red potion. 'You have to take a blood replenishing potion for five hours. Unfortunately, there’s no pain potion yet.’

'S’all right, Evans,’ she rolled her eyes affectionately.

'It’ll be Potter soon, you can’t always call me Evans,’ she lifted the blood replenishing potion to his lips and waited for him to swallow, watching his Adam’s apple as he did.

'You’ll always be Evans to me, love.’

'And you’ll always be a toerag to me,’ he laughed at the statement that had once caused a feeling of immense sadness to a sixteen-year-old bloke who felt himself head over heels over the pretty girl. 'Do you want to see your arrogant friends? They’re waiting outside, rather annoying bunch, really.’

'I’d rather have you kiss me,’ she laughed as he stared hopefully at her lips.

'In your dreams, Potter,’ she leaned in closer.

'And what wonderful dreams they’ll be,’ less than an inch and her lips would be on his.

'Already harassing the patient, Evans?’ Sirius’ voice came from the door.

'He asked for a kiss, and my obligation as a healer is to give the patient what he needs.’ she blushed red at being caught.

'Naughty nurse,’ Sirius grinned as he sat on the sofa they had yet to transfigure back to a vase.

'How do you feel, James,’ Remus asked taking the seat next to Sirius, Peter quickly following.

'I’m a Gryffindor, Moony, it’ll take more than two measly spells to keep me from marrying Lily Evans,’ his hazel eyes took in the blushing redhead, 'no matter how much she wants to get rid of me.’

'Yes, I was so disappointed,’ she sighed dramatically, 'thought I was finally free but alas here you are.’

The boys looked at her with amusement.

'She’s been fretting over you making you breakfast–’ Sirius began.

'Which reminds me,’ she said grabbing the tray and placing it in front of him as he sat up, flinching as he did so, 'you need to eat and don’t move so much.’

'Yes, mum,’ Lily glared at his cheeky smile.

'You looked better unconscious,’ James heard her mumble.

'You haven’t stopped fretting since he got injured,’ Sirius said stealing a piece of bacon from James’ plate.

'Get your own bacon, Padfoot,’ James said as he took a bite.

'I did, it just happened to be off your plate.’

'Mutt,’ he watched Sirius pout like a dog who’s been kicked.

'Aren’t you going to sit down, love,’ James asked the green eyed girl staring at him.

'I’m all right, James,’ she said coming closer to him, close enough for him to be able to count her endless freckles. She let her hand brush his hair softly. James found it too easy to get lost in the feeling of Lily, lost enough to forget his three mates were still in the room until he felt water splash his face and turned to see Sirius twirl his wand in faux innocence.

'Bloody prat,’ he mumbled, shooting a glare at Sirius.

'You were all by shagging in my presence, burning my innocent eyes.’

Remus scoffed, 'Since when have your eyes been innocent?’

'When has any part of Sirius been innocent?’ Lily asked.

'Oy! I resent that.’ There was a slight smirk on his face that reminded Lily of James. Lily wondered whether James had picked it up from Sirius or the other way around. Or perhaps they had individually developed what Lily referred to as the arrogant smirk.

'Don’t resent the truth, Paddy.’ Her eyes twinkled teasingly. His nose wrinkled, pouting like a child.

Lily’s eyes drifted back to James, eyeing his full plate. 'Eat, Potter, I don’t want to see a single piece of bacon on your plate.’

'I can take care of that for you, Prongs,’ Sirius leant in to grab a piece of bacon off James’ plate only to have his hand hit by Lily’s.

'There’s more bacon in the kitchen if you’re hungry.’

'But this is here now,’ the corners of Lily’s mouth twitched at her friend’s whining.

'He needs as much as he can eat,’ she turned and was satisfied to see him chewing quietly on the bacon. 'He’s pale.’

'He’s not pale, bloody bastard looks like he always does, Evans.’

The two bickered like siblings causing a genuine smile to cross Peter’s face, a smile that was half-amusement, half-exasperation and finally the smile on James’ face: content. James loved how well Lily and Sirius seemed to get along, how they could all spend time together without him having to decide which one of them he’d have to pick. He loved days when it was just Lily, Sirius, and him lying around the flat or hanging around in Muggle London, riding around in Sirius’ motorbike. He also enjoyed the days Remus and Peter decided to stop by. Although he wouldn’t object to cozy nights in bed with Lily, nights where they liked to forget the war around them and give in to their more passionate natures, nights where they loved lying in bed, content with just being near one another even if they didn’t say a word. He couldn’t wait to marry her, a promise of forever. A promise that they loved each other enough to want to commit themselves to the other for the rest of their lives. A promise that they would love one another forever.

He zoned out long enough for Lily and Sirius’ bickering to have stopped.

'As much as I’d like to stay, Prongs, I have work in ten minutes,’ Peter said as he got up.

'S’all right, Wormtail,’ he yawned briefly causing Lily’s ears to perk up at the noise. He put a piece of pancake into his mouth to stop her from commenting on it.

'I should probably get going too,’ Remus said, looking tired. The full moon had only been a few days ago and his friend had yet to recover from the effects of it.

'Rest, Moony,’ James said between swallowing his food.

'You too, Prongs,’ he looked him in the eyes, 'try to avoid any more hexes while I’m gone.’ James left out a laugh, 'I’ll try, but you know me. I like living my life on edge.’

'I must have forgot, the boy who silently pinned after Lily Evans since fourth year, took over an entire year to ask her out and made a fool of himself when he did likes to live his life on edge.’

Sirius snorted, 'Silently my arse,’ he let out a dramatic sigh, 'Do you think Evans is pretty, Si? She has pretty eyes and pretty hair and pretty skin. Did you hear Evans today in Slughorn’s, Padfoot? She’s so funny, Padfoot. Her hair is so red.’ He let out a laugh at seeing James’ neck and face flush. 'If you hadn’t started dating in seventh year, I might have murdered you both.’

Lily’s giggles made James’ attention shift to her as Peter and Remus excused themselves, Sirius walking them out to give the couple a moment alone. 'Think it’s funny, do you, Evans?’ James voice was teasing, his eyes mischievous.

'Very,’ she said as she sat on the edge of their bed. 'To be fair, I thought you were quite the looker in fourth year.’

'Did you?’ he tugged on her hand, looking at her in the way that usually got her in trouble when she wanted to focus.

'Yes, even I couldn’t deny that you were going to be quite handsome when you got older,’ she leant down and placed a small kiss on his lips which he tried to deepen before she pulled away.

He pouted at the loss of contact. 'Finish eating,’ she said.

'I think Prongs wants to devour something else, Lil.’ Sirius leaned on the door, grey eyes twinkling.

'Bugger off, Black,’ Lily laughed.

'And here I thought we were friends.’

'Well, my wife-to-be does look quite fit in her dress, hard to resist.’ James eyes lingered on her face for a moment before examining said dress and back to her face.

'I don’t think you’d look quite as lovely in it, you prat,’ she turned around and stormed off but not before James could see the pretty blush on her cheeks. As much as she denied it, James knew she loved it when he complimented her especially when she put an effort into getting ready. 'You can marry the giant squid for all I care,’ he heard her yell.

One look at Sirius had him throwing his head back and laughing. 

At eight, Sirius was the only remaining person as the rest of James’ coming and going visitors had left. James watched as Lily grabbed some clothes from her cupboard then proceeded to take an old Quidditch jersey of his from sixth year and a pair of boxers that had James’ mind spinning.

'All right, love?’ Lily asked him, her hand on her hips. Her eyes checking him out teasingly, the way she did in seventh year to make him blush and stutter.

It still worked.

'Y–yeah, er, yes,’ he could see Sirius snorting on the sofa while Lily’s lip twitched upwards.

'I’m going to take a quick shower. Is there anything you needed?’

'I think Jamie here needs a very cold shower, care to help a lad out?’

Lily grabbed the closest item within her reach—which luckily for Sirius was a pillow—and aimed it at his head, 'Wanker.’

'Why weren’t you a chaser,’ Sirius whined.

'I preferred dating one,’ James heard her yell from the bathroom causing his heart to flutter.

He waited until he heard the water run to begin speaking once more. 'I’m marrying her in less than two months, Padfoot,’ there was a smile on his face that couldn’t be contained.

'Lily Potter, I’ll have to get used to that,’ Sirius chuckled. 'Fourth, fifth, and sixth year you would have been delusional if they thought you would marry her. Bloody prat that you were.’

'Lily Potter, Mrs Lily Potter. Mr and Mrs James Potter.’ Sirius couldn’t help but smile at his lovestruck friend. 'Has a nice ring to it, yeah?’

'Little redheads and black-haired devils running around one day.’

'We talked about having three kids one day, when the war’s over.’ They ignored the silent if that loomed over them.

'Papa Prongs, we’ll at least with a mum like Lily your children will have some chance of being good-looking and having tamable hair.’

'Lily uses a spell on her hair for her curls, s’not tamable the Muggle way.’ James’ eyes twinkled, 'Imagine a little redheaded girl with Lil’s curly hair and green eyes.’

'What’d she get from you?’ Sirius asked, 'Your eyesight?’

'Don’t be ridiculous, Padfoot,’ the grin didn’t leave his face as he said, 'any child of mine is going to have the pleasure of naturally getting on Lily’s nerves.' 

'Did Sirius leave?’ Lily asked James as she closed the bathroom door.

'Yeah, he said he be back tomorrow and to thank you for the food.’ Lily grinned at him, going to sit down on the sofa. James frowned at her, 'Come sit with me, my love,’ Lily felt butterflies reemerge in her stomach at that.

'Are you sure?’

He nodded and slightly hit the left side of the bed. She bit her lip slightly before finally hopping onto the bed.

'Can we talk,’ she whispered lightly as James wrapped an arm around her lightly. He delicately kissed the spot where her shoulder and neck met.

'Yes, love?’ she twisted out of his arms, carefully turning around to look up at his face. 'I thought you were going to–I didn’t think–I just–’ the words trailed off as she tried to control the whimpers that left her throat.

'It’s all right,’ he let his fingers carefully brush her curls, untangling them carefully. 'I’m fine.’ She looked up at him in disbelief. 'I’m a Gryffindor, we can do anything.’

'You mean we’re reckless idiots?’

'That too,’ he let a kiss drop and linger onto her lips. 'I love you, Lily Evans.’

'I love you too, you prat.’