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prongsno · 7 years

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wednesdays at three thirty

a late bday fic for @jamesandlilyaredead <3 (9445 words, read on ao3)

Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. But James works in a coffee shop, and every time he sees colour there’s an annoying customer there too (AKA a coffee shop and soulmate au fic in one because i have no chill).

“One frozen mocha to go!”

It’s second nature to him now, as quick and easy as breathing. In one swift movement, James grabs hold of the milk carton, ready to pour it into the blender. He hears the door to the cafe open, a chilly breeze ruthlessly following a handful of students who scrabble inside as it begins to rain.

It’s then that it happens. The milk drops to the floor as he stares, perplexed, at the colour of his hand. It’s like the weight of an avalanche crumbles on top of him, an invisible weight pressing hard on his shoulders. Before he even realises, his legs are like jelly and he’s falling.

“James? Are you alright?” a voice asks.

He feels a hand pressed against his back, the sound of someone’s concerned voice muffled against his ear. He tries to say something, but all he can manage is an intense gasp for air as his legs shake once more.

He can see.

Not that he couldn’t before… but he can see.

Colours are everywhere, blinding and intense. They’re beautiful, so vibrant that it’s making his head spin.

He’s staring at white tiles, chestnut coloured cabinets. It feels like he’s on fire and, more than anything, he wishes he could stand, to just look around the place to see who is making him like this.

Of course, he’s read the stories like everyone else. Lullabies that dated back long before they even had a name. Fairy-tales of people who, like everyone else, saw the world in a lens, the colour of life squeezed out. There was only one person who could help to retrieve that colour back into your life.

A soulmate.

James blinks, his heart now slowing to a calm, even beat. He breathes in deeply, relishing the peaceful feeling that washes over him. The owner of the hand speaks again and rubs the place between his shoulder blades tentatively, asking if he needs an ambulance.

He shakes his head, finally looking up at Remus.

“Can you stand?” Remus asks, taking hold of James’ shaking hand and pulling him to his feet. He wobbles for a split second and reaches out to grasp hold of the counter with both arms. His fingers grip onto the support for dear life.

Who?

He swallows, a nauseating bubble rippling throughout his intestines and threatening to shoot up his throat. He breathes in, counting to ten. Slow and easy, he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the wooden counter and cautiously glances around cafe.

The colours are dazzling; blues, reds, greens, all different shades and intensities. They're all so vivid and intense that it feels like the ground’s shaking beneath him. The place is heaving with students, all wet due to the unexpected stormy April shower and James tries to look at as many as he can, searching desperately for someone who seems just as unsettled and surprised as him.

Everyone seems normal. How can that be? Colour’s just flown into every crevice of their being… and they don’t care?

There are too many voices, people ordering, grabbing their coffees and other beverages and talking aimlessly with one another. Amidst the chatter and the whirring noises from the coffee machines, the sound of the door opening reaches his ears. A freezing wind enters, the chilly kind that makes the hairs on his arms stand up on edge.

And then, just like that, his world is drained of colour.

The door closes shut and it’s like time pauses around him.

It’s shattering, to see the colour fade and vanish so brutally and without warning.

He’s moving in an instant, ignoring Remus and his concerned questions which he brushes off with a shake of his head. He’s dodging through the large mass of students, speech failing him as he finally makes it to the door and flings it open. The rain’s pouring down with no mercy and it seems that fate has none either.

The person has vanished. The person, his soulmate.

“James!” Remus is by his side, grabbing his arm softly as he shuts the door. “Are you mad? Your feet are soaked now.”

James can’t speak, he doesn’t know what to say. His throat itches to release a soul-shattering sob; that’s what it feels like, soul-shattering.

He numbly allows Remus to lead him to the staff room, setting him down on his favourite armchair. The cushions sink beneath him and the dull chime of the cedar clock echoes in his head.

“James?” Remus asks again, this time plopping a hot cup of tea into his cold hands.

“It happened, Remus,” he whispers, it’s so painful to speak, like the air has been choked out of his lungs. He’s scared that perhaps it’s all just a dream.

“It?” Remus asks, watching James with a careful gaze. “What was it like?”

James sighs and looks down at his tea, stirring it aimlessly for a few seconds before he takes a small sip. “Unlike anything that’s ever happened before,” he says finally. He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the ends.

“The colours were so perfect and then it was gone. They were gone - they just left and took the colour with them.”

“Which colour was the prettiest?”

“Red,” James says in an instant, a small smile creeping onto his face. His eyes brighten, recalling the feel of it. There’s something about that colour, it made him feel warm.

“All of them, Remus. But red… red was intense.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments. James takes cautious sips of his tea whilst Remus sits and watches his every move. The silence is more reassuring than unsettling, but still Remus tries his best.

“James…” The cafe is still horrendously busy and there’s only so much Peter and Sirius can handle on their own. He wrings his hands together, but James is the one to speak first.

“Do you think… do you think that’s it?”

This time James’ voice is back to normal. No hushed whispers, no desperately needed gasps for breath after each word. The only tell-tale sign is his right hand, his fingers still shaking.

There had been millions of accounts of people seeing colour, from all over the world. And for some that had been it, just the one moment and then they were back to the way they had always been. The colours just slowly faded from their memories like it had never happened.

“Well,” Remus starts, unsure, “if they came to the cafe then they must be a student.” he checks his watch, glancing at the time and date, “I mean, it’s a Wednesday. Student for sure.”

“Unless it’s a teacher, that’d be unfortunate.” James mutters, finally feeling like himself again. He smiles, nods his head and allows Remus’ feeble attempts to give him a slither of hope.

He gulps back the rest of his tea, assuring his friend he’s fine to go back to work.

If he’s meant to see them again then he will. And if he doesn’t then, well, he’d just go on as normal. He'd unwillingly let the memory fade away, just like the colour had.

Classes don’t seem to put his mind at ease at all - he spends the hours doodling in the margins of his notebook, not listening at all to the way Mrs McGonagall lectures on about Biology. And when the two hours are finally up, he jogs all the way back to the coffee shop.

Peter looks up in surprise from his spot at the till.

“Alright? Didn’t think you were working today.”

“Nah, I’m not. But - err - thought you could use some help? Thursdays, mate. Everyone needs a coffee on a Thursday.”

Peter smiles, thankful for the sentiment and James drags himself behind the counter, throwing his white apron on like it’s hot coal in his hands.

He glances up every time he hears the door open, but each time no one brings colour in with them. By the end of the four hour shift he’s in an angry mood and ends up getting a chinese on the way home to ease his feelings.

He spends most of Friday doing the same thing, but on more than one occasion he catches Remus’ gaze and tries to act as normal and as aloof as possible.

That’s when he slices his finger with a cake knife, and spends the remainder of his shift with an angry Remus, a paramedic and a first aid kit.

Saturday, though, is a brand new day.

His finger’s been bandaged, the sun is shining and the weather report says it seems like summer is finally in the air with highs of twenty degrees (rather unusual for mid-April, though no one seems to mind).

So, James decides not to worry. The first few times the door opens he lifts his head up out of habit, but he forces himself to stop. It only makes things harder and the only way to make things better is to focus on something he’s good at, and that’s making darn-good coffee. He even starts humming again, dancing behind the counter to Wham’s Jitterbug.

Then the air stops again and he’s struggling to breathe. He’s staring at sunshine yellow walls and a black coffee machine.

With shaking fingers he reaches out to touch the bright yellow strokes of paint, thoroughly amazed. Then he swallows slowly, pauses the machine, and turns around.

It’s pretty busy; everyone wants ice coffees and smoothies so they can sit outside and bask in the warm sun before it disappears. There’s a group of girls nearest to the door, laughing about something James can’t quite make out. He glances at them one by one but none of them act any differently or give off any feeling. He scowls.

Whoever the person is, they have come back.

“Excuse me,” someone huffs by the counter and clicks their fingers at him rudely, forcing him to turn his head.

A student glares up at him, hands on her hips. Her hair’s an intense shade of red and for a second his heart stops.

“Instead of eyeing up girls could you do your job and ask me what I want?”

James rolls his eyes and swears under his breath. He doesn’t need this right now, annoying customers make him angry. Even if said annoying customer is pretty.

And he’s already angry; someone in this cafe right now is his soulmate. And they’ll go, just like last time. And the moment will pass and he’ll go back to the dull grey once again. He’s got minutes, if that.

The woman clears her throat, waiting.

“Alright,” he says, stomping to the counter, “what do you want?”

He doesn’t care that he’s being rude. She was rude first and he’s not in the best of moods right now.

“A medium mango smoothie to go. With only a handful of ice.”

James sighs, walks towards the fridge and looks for the ingredients. He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips when he notices they’ve ran out of the said fruit.

He turns around with a twirl and tries his hardest to put on a sombre facade. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of mango, terribly sorry about that.”

“Sure you are,” she hums and grabs hold of a menu, drumming her fingernails against the countertop in an annoying beat, “I’ll have…” she trails off, her nails still dancing as she pauses.

“Yes?” James taps his pen against the till, irritated.

“A medium iced coffee then,” she says finally, dropping the menu back onto the counter. “With only a handful-”

“Of ice, got it. And your name?”

“Lily. That’s L-I-L-Y. Not two L’s. Just one.”

He bites his tongue, of course he knows how to spell. How stupid does she think he is?

Remus is on the next till, serving the group of girls who had been by the door. James watches them curiously as he pours the coffee and ice cream into a blender. They’re all acting normal; there’s no spark in their eyes, no sign that they’re experiencing anything. They’re pretty he supposes, but he… he can’t connect.

Would there even be a sign? How can he tell?

His annoying customer clears her throat again and he refrains from rolling his eyes once more. The sooner he works on her damn iced coffee then the sooner she can leave and he’ll be able to try and find them, whoever they were.

A gruelling three minutes later he plonks the beverage down onto the counter.

“That’s £2.35,” his tone is icy and he wishes he’d spat in the stupid beverage as she bites down on the straw and gives it a small sip.

She hands him the exact change without uttering another word, then wraps two serviettes around the plastic cup before picking it up. She narrows her eyes at him and glances at his name tag.

“Thanks James,” she sneers, “great customer service.” Then she’s gone and he couldn’t be any more relieved.

He releases a long, hard breath and looks around the cafe again. The group of girls are leaving, chattering to themselves as Lily lags behind them; the small girl takes tiny steps as they move at a snail's-pace towards the door. The bell chimes and the group and Lily leave the building, a few other students following after her.

He blinks and the colour vanishes with it. James curses and kicks the counter irritably.

Sirius looks over at him in shock and Remus hisses at him to behave. His foot throbs, kicking hadn’t helped at all. And he’s just wasted all his time serving that annoying Lily as his soulmate had just been and gone again, and disappeared right from under his nose.

“So, let me get this straight…” Sirius leans against the table, his long legs stretching out as he cradles a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, “you experienced it and you didn’t tell me? Your best mate?”

James rolls his eyes, mouth curling slightly into a small smile. “It was painful, thank you very much. That much colour to suddenly look at? I had a blinking migraine for a couple of hours afterwards!”

Sirius lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and scratches his chin. “Did you see who it was?”

He shakes his head. “It was too busy. And I had the worst customer too, she was a right bi-”

Remus pokes his head round the door. “Didn’t you notice James almost passed out on the floor? Honestly, I bet his S.M has already clocked on. You weren’t exactly discreet, mate.”

James chucks an empty milk carton and Remus dodges it, laughing like he’s on helium.

“You’re such an arse! It’s painful, okay?”

Sirius sighs dramatically and throws one hand to his head. The other hand reaches out, clutching hard onto James’ shoulder. “But it’s beautiful, right? Beautifully painful?”

“Yeah, go ahead and make fun. I’d like to see how you handle it.”

His friend shrugs a little and balances his teaspoon on his left pinky. “I have,” he says simply.

James chokes on the last few dregs of his hot vimto, catching Remus’ perplexed gaze.

“You have? When?”

Sirius stands there a little awkwardly, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. “It was ages ago. I - we were only seven... we didn’t understand it much at the time.”

“Ruddy hell.”

James doesn’t know what’s more shocking - the fact that Sirius has a soulmate somewhere or that he won’t give away any more details about it. He just picks up his leather jacket, throws it over one shoulder and glances at James’ and Remus’ still surprised faces with another shrug.

“Are we running a coffee shop or what?”

He hates that he chose Biology, of all the sciences, to study at university. He’s already juggling football into the mix and classes start to interfere with his work. He finds he spends more time in the small staff room of the cafe than at the library or at Hogwarts Student’s Union. Plus, he can get free drinks here and put his feet up on the table.

That’s exactly what he’s doing when there’s a knock on the door of the break room.

“Mate,” Sirius knocks again, “I need back up. Remus has class.”

James folds down the corner of his page (anyone who claims they don’t do that is lying), puts his pen behind his ear and zips up his jeans (don’t ask). He’s checking his phone messages as he props the door open with his waist, an apology on his lips as he sets into the cafe.

He blinks and then he’s staring at that annoying customer he had the other day. She’s got red hair and she’s wearing a light brown top as she stares down at the menu. She glances up at the sound of the door and his stomach gives a little jolt when he notices her forest green eyes.

He’s struggling to breathe again, hands shaking as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

His soulmate’s here and of course Annoying Lily has to ruin it all over again.

“Ah, if it isn’t Barista Of The Year,” she smirks.

Any nice thought is instantly replaced with every and any cuss word he can think of on the spot. He rolls his eyes, pulls down at his apron and glares at Sirius who’s taking her order.

“Be nice, mate, she’s a customer!” Sirius grins, “I’m sorry about Grumpy over there,” he jerks his thumb towards James, who’s now angrily ripping up a cardboard box, “he hates Wednesdays.”

He pulls his eyes away as he hears Lily give out a little laugh, glancing around to see if he can spot his soulmate. There’s about thirteen people and James swears under his breath.

“Make a cherry white hot chocolate for Lily, will ya?” Sirius throws him a bottle of water and James catches it swiftly with one hand.

Lily looks smugly at him, tapping her fingers against the counter expectantly. He’s just turned around, grabbing hold of the semi skimmed milk with a death grip, when he hears her clear her throat a little.

“I wanted to apologise for the other day,” she says with reluctance when Sirius coughs loudly, “I wasn’t in the best of moods and I took it out on you. So - sorry, I guess.”

“Isn’t that nice, mate?” James rolls his eyes again when Sirius claps a hand on his back. “Do you have anything to say back?”

He glances over his shoulder and gives Lily the stinkeye. “Apology accepted.”

She’s huffing, cheeks a little pink as she shakes her head, muttering out an ‘unbelievable’. He only turns around once her hot chocolate is made and he gives her a sheepish grin as he places it in front of her.

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

Sirius snorts as he takes the order of the next customer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re lucky Remus isn’t here. He’d have you drawn and quartered for being rude to a customer.”

“I’ve got a few more things on my mind right now,” he murmurs quietly, cleaning up a little spillage with a tea towel.

“They’re here? Right now?” Sirius lifts his head in a very inconspicuous manner, eyes raking over each customer like he's in the mafia.

“Something wrong?” Lily asks as she sips at her drink.

“Hey, Lils. You know anyone in here?”

At Sirius’ question she turns around to look. “No one seems familiar. Why?”

“Well James -”

“No reason,” James stomps on Sirius’ foot, instantly silencing him.

“No reason,” Sirius echoes.

She hums, sliding over the exact change for her beverage before sitting down at one of the tables.

James glances around the cafe again.

Apart from Lily, there's a group of three girls over in the corner giggling at a laptop, a guy with a beard who's talking animatedly on his phone, two girls and a guy all collectively on their phones as they sit together (they’ve hardly spoken at all since they arrived) and a guy who must be about fifty five talking to a woman of similar age. Plus another five or so who aren’t even facing him.

He grimaces and scribbles down everyone's appearances in the margins of his notepad. This time he's not going to give up as easily.

After an hour the colour is starting to get too much to handle, he’s got a head-splitting migraine.

“I can’t,” he whispers to Sirius and shakes his head. He’s already threading his arms through his jacket. “I need to get out. Fresh air.”

It’s almost a relief to see the different shades of grey when he steps out onto the street. It’s empowering to know that, this time, he’s the one who’s taken the colour away. He lets out a sigh and kicks at an empty bottle on the road.

He doesn’t look back.

It’s Peter who notices the pattern first.

Wednesdays at three thirty, give or take a few minutes. Every Wednesday. There’s quite a number of regulars but, unfortunately for him, Lily is always showing up too.

“You make good coffee,” she shrugs the next time he sees her.

And the time after that Remus is there. It turns out the two share a class together and they spend hours talking about their essay that’s due in on Friday.

Her hair is always the first thing he notices, dangerously bold and enticing. He supposes she’s not so bad once you get to know her.

A couple of weeks later, Lily asks if James can read over her essay (apparently some people actually have their work checked, which is news for him) and he says yes in a heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” she asks as she places her laptop on a table close to the window.

James takes off his apron and throws it over the back of the chair. It’s a pointless question, since she’s already asked him the same thing about twenty times.

“Totally. But I’m a sucker for the oxford comma. Just a forewarning.”

She’s rolling her eyes as she takes out her purse. “What do you want to drink? It’s on me.”

He peels his eyes away from the screen and squints up at the menu. There’s no Remus today and that leaves Peter and Sirius behind the counter. The two snicker and goof around, juggling oranges and balancing milk lids on their noses.

“I’ll have a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. Extra hot,” he says.

“Aren’t they a bugger to make?”

“The worst.”

“I’m about eighty percent sure Sirius spat in that,” she says when she places the steaming mug on the table next to him five minutes later.

He drinks it anyways (who would have thought such an obnoxious and hipster drink would actually taste pretty good?) and spends the remainder of the day sitting next to Lily. Her essay is impeccable, of course, and each time their arms brush against each other he gets a jolt in his stomach.

Having her at the cafe makes it a lot harder for James to liaise and spy on the other customers. Especially when she and Sirius bond over their love for marmite (how disgusting) during her next visit.

For some reason she’s eating toast and Sirius just blinks at her. “Is that marmite?”

The rest is history and she spends most of her visit that day cooped up on one of the high chairs. They chatter together about their marmite experiences for what seems like hours.

It’s becoming A Problem.

James slowly starts to notice how pretty her smile is. She always spends a good fifteen minutes or so deciding what on earth to order and, more often than not, changes her mind about three times.

On one occasion he asks her, “What do you want? What do you want?” to which she replies back with an exasperated grimace, “It’s not that simple,” then the two get matching, exhilarated grins as they both profess their love for The Notebook.

He’s almost used to seeing the colour so much now but a part of him dares to normalise the feeling, lest it vanish as quick as a heartbeat.

And it’s Wednesday again when a downpour brings in a mass of students.

Lily, yellow and blue spotted umbrella in her hand, is, of course, amidst the thrall. James isn’t even that surprised to see her anymore. Sirius is busy serving another customer, so he gives her a bright smile (which he realises isn’t actually that hard to do) and asks her what she wants.

“I’ll have a Pumpkin Spiced Latte.”

“One of those are you?” he asks, giving Lily a sly smirk as he starts to jot down her order.

“It’s good. Have you never tried it?”

He shakes his head. “Peter’s addicted to it, he made me try it once. Far too sweet,” he says with a grimace.

“That’s what makes it so delicious.”

He doesn’t understand how someone can have such strange taste buds - to think marmite, PSLs and white hot chocolates are all under the denomination of ‘delicious’. But hey - everyone has their own opinions, right? Even if it’s the wrong one.

He’s just turning around, ready to start making her drink when she sucks in a breath. He pauses instantly, already knowing by now what that little intake of breath means.

“What are you wanting to change it to?”

He can’t help but give her an amused smile, watching as she glares at the menu. Biting her chipped nails, fingers drumming against the counter-top. She looks like this is the worst decision she’s ever made.

“I can’t decide between a Pumpkin Spiced Latte or a Pumpkin Spiced Frapp.”

He blinks, “Well. One’s hot - you see - and the other’s cold.”

“Wow, thanks for that. I’d never have guessed.”

She’s smirking and she’s got such a contagious smile, he can feel his lips mirroring hers in seconds. She takes another three minutes before she slaps a fiver onto the counter. “A cold one. I’ll be daring.”

When he places the drink on the counter next to her, he rakes his eyes over the customers behind her. The same group of girls, the same elderly couple, the same bearded man. It has to be one of them.

He’s served them all before, each are nice and unique in character but it’s so hard to figure out which one it is. He’s even tried small talk, but every time he makes it personal they all shrink away. It seems like Lily is the only one in the cafe who ever bothers to talk. And, even then, it’s Sirius who she’s closer too.

He gets a message, phone buzzing against his thigh as he hands over Lily’s change.

Serious to Barista Of The Year (15:37) : stop flirting with customers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“I was not flirting.”

“You know,” Sirius, who’s lounging across one of the sofas with a history book pulled over his face, lets out a small sigh, “I didn’t believe you the first five times, so -”

“I’m only saying it so you know I’m telling the truth!”

Only now does Sirius peel the book away from his face. “Mate. Come on.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You are allowed to, you know,”

“I know I’m allowed to,” James scowls.

“Do you?” Sirius swings his legs onto the floor, his socks have dozens of little hamburgers all over them. “I mean… I know you’re - well - a romantic but having a soulmate doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about you?”

Sirius scratches his chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “What about me?” his voice is gruff.

“You never told me, your best mate, that you saw colour when you were seven. Seven!”

He merely shrugs. “I was seven.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean. Do you still-”

Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, haven’t for ages.”

“What was it like?”

There’s a small period of silence.

Sirius runs a hand through his hair, then he takes a swig of water and flings the now empty bottle up into the air. He catches it with one hand.

“It felt - God, I dunno - natural? We had no idea what it meant, how could we? We were friends, that was it.”

James gets goosebumps.

“What happened?”

“With a swine of a mother like mine?” he snorts, “What didn’t happen. I never saw her again.”

“You could try finding her-”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Half the female population probably have the same name.”

“Jane.”

“No.”

“Sarah?”

“No. Can you stop guessing now?”

“Depends, will you tell me her name?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Fine. Mary.”

James drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I suppose it is quite a common name. There’s Mary Berry, Mary Poppins-”

“Mary, Queen of Scots.” Sirius adds, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “My point is there’s a heck ton of Mary’s out there. And after a while you get, well - you know.”

The annoying thing is that, even though Sirius hadn’t exactly said much, he did know.

It’s such a strange feeling, one you can’t really put into words. James had spent hours agonising over who it was, tearing himself apart to the point where he couldn’t sleep. And for Sirius to know her and to have gone through life hearing that name on people's lips, he doesn’t know how he can handle it.

It’s a gift, but one that eats away at your insides until it’s all but consumed you. Colour was something James desperately yearned for and whoever they were had the power to give it to them. Just like that, you’re made for each other.

He shuffles on his seat, fingers fluttering to itch at his backside (he does this sometimes when he’s nervous). Green emerald eyes flicker on and off in his mind, making his heart do cartwheels.

There were hundreds, thousands, of cases where people married someone who wasn’t their soulmate. You give up the gift, so to speak. Does colour really mean that much to you when you’ve got someone you love and who loves you back?

Sirius mentions something about needing to take a dump and waddles out, not before slapping the back of his neck with a tea towel. James flips him off and Sirius, like he has eyes in the back of his head, does one casually back.

James is left alone with just his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans.

The next time she comes into the coffee shop she’s wearing a bright yellow anorak and James can’t help but think of sunshine, daisies and lemons.

She flashes him a smile, cheeks pink, and asks him how he is.

He doesn’t tell her how pretty she looks today, though the words are desperately wanting to run off his tongue and slide out of his mouth like jelly. He doesn’t say how happy he is to see her - how sometimes the prospect of a soulmate, his soulmate, is replaced with pictures of her.

“Not bad,” he bites, fumbling with the lid of a teapot, “you?”

“Better with the prospect of coffee. Can I get an americano, please?”

James makes a grab for a cup. “You do know how strong this stuff is, right?”

She dismisses his cautious gaze with a wave of her hand. “I’ll add four sugars, it’s fine.”

“You know what another name for an americano is, Evans?” Sirius asks, grinning like the cheshire cat as he leans against the counters.

“Do I want to know?”

“A Long Black. I kid you not.”

Lily purses her lips. “On second thought, I’ll have a latte.”

“Don't fancy drinking a Long Black?” Sirius asks, already walking off to serve another customer before Lily can say anything back.

“You can have a Long Black if you want,” James smirks, dodging Lily’s hand that goes up to swipe at him, “I won’t judge.”

“A latte is better. Thanks though. But I think americano’s have been ruined for me now, permanently.”

He doesn’t know why, but he takes his time making the drink. He wants it to be perfect and immaculate, the best latte she’s ever had before. So, when she brings it to her lips he doesn’t feel like he shouldn’t be watching her - he just wants to know how she likes the drink. For science.

“It’s really good. You’re really good.”

“You’ve got - err - a,” he gestures to his own lips, staring at her frothy milk moustache. Her hands fly up to her face immediately, and she spends a good two minutes scrubbing her entire face with a serviette before emerging out of it with a red, mortified face.

“Sorry. How embarrassing.”

Her smile has to be the sweetest thing he’s ever encountered. It makes him weak in his knees. “It’s cute,” he drops his own tea, hot water spilling onto his arms and over the counter, “bugger. I mean, it’s fine. Milk moustaches are cute, I mean.”

She smiles, “You’re sweet,” her cheeks are still crimson. “I mean, my friend would have just taken pictures. I love her to bits but, you didn’t even - didn’t laugh is what I’m trying to say.”

“I almost did.”

Then he laughs and he has to press a hand to his lips to stop himself.

She’s got constellations in her eyes, he could stare at her for hours and at each passing minute he'd find something new to marvel at. She’s a breathtaking view. Her phone vibrates against her mug and the two jump. She grabs for it, avoiding his eyes as she stutters out a hello.

“Mary! Sorry. I’ll be there in a sec, on my way,” she ends the call with a sigh and when she glances back up at him he has the strongest urge to kiss her.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, downing the rest of her latte. She plops the empty cup into his hands, swings her bag over her shoulders but doesn’t move an inch.

He should say something.

He should ask her if she’s okay with seeing in black and white for the rest of her life. Ask if she’s okay being with someone like him - someone who can’t give her colour. She bites her lip, ready to say something when Sirius barges past with a tray full of dirty cups and plates.

His feet falter when he glances at the two of them. “Sorry, did I just ruin a moment?”

James’ cheeks burn and Lily just clears her throat. “No. I have to meet Mary, my- uh - friend. Um. See you boys later.”

She turns around, almost running into the bearded regular man. She murmurs out an apology and has to wait as the old regular couple walk in front of her. Together the three of them leave the shop, vanishing along with the surges of colour.

James takes a shaky step back, stepping on Sirius’ toes.

“Watch it!”

“It’s them,” he says, breathing out heavily, muttering the phrase over and over again, “it has to be either the old guy or the lady. It’s official - I’m a marriage wrecker.”

“You don’t have to marry them. There’s no contract.”

“I know. But, Lily, she,” James groans and shakes a hand through his hair.

“She...?”

James blinks. She’s everything he’s ever wanted. “Er… she has a friend called Mary, didn’t you know?”

“I’ve met countless Mary’s. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Is she in prison for murder? Did Walburga Black kill Sirius’s soulmate? That seems to be the only plausible explanation at the moment. It would explain why Sirius hasn’t met Mary since whatever happened happened.

He’s grabbing onto a bag of carrots when he gets that thought and he looks around the shop suspiciously. He’s only met Walburga a few times; the last being when Sirius, sporting his own bloody and broken nose, dislocated Orion Black’s jaw.

Barista Of The Year to Serious (17:40): shall i buy hummus

Serious has changed his nickname to Hummus Lover 2k19

Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:41): what are u after

Barista Of The Year to Hummus Lover 2k19 (17:43): is ur mum in prison???

Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:45): ….. i wish

He’s halfway through the doors of Tesco Extra, googling ‘why is my friend a dumbass’ when he bumps into someone and his phone drops to the floor.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine!”

He’s already bending down, fingers reaching out to grip onto his mobile when he realises whose voice it is.

“Lily!”

It’s weird seeing her out of the cafe, without a counter separating them.

She’s smaller than he remembers and he’s actually able to see her shoes, which is extremely weird. She’s wearing black worn out dolly shoes, her hair wild and the shade of crisp red and orange leaves signalling the first sign of autumn.

Her cheeks are rosy. “James! Hi.”

A car passes by, splashing murky water all over his legs. “I bought carrots, celery and hummus.” He waves the bag he’s carrying.

She gives him a soft smile and pulls on her jacket. “I’m going to buy marmite.”

“Disgraceful.”

“How can you dislike it when you’ve not even had it before?”

“Ah - but how long is a piece of string, Lily?”

“However long it is when you buy it.”

He’s grinning and she’s smiling back, making his heart flutter and quiver.

Seeing her with the sunset behind her, lighting up her hair like she’s a part of the sky, makes him wonder why he was even so determined to find his soulmate in the first place. She’s quickly become part of his life, his routine and he never wants it to end.

His phone makes a PING sound and he forces himself to look away from her.

Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed your nickname to I Love You Bro

Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed his nickname to Please Love Me

Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): how upset would u be if i hypothetically just broke your teapot. Hypothetically

Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): btw whats that tasty thing your mum gets sometimes? not jalebi, the other one I Love You Bro to Please Love Me (18:10): …. gulab jamun also ??? what the frick sirius?? omw

He sighs and plops his phone into his shopping bag. “Hey, Lily. I got to go, Sirius is creating havoc at our flat -”

“Say no more,” she laughs, “see you later?”

“Definitely.”

It’s only when she’s gone into the shop, and he’s half way down the road, that he glances at the passing cars and realises he’s looking at dull grey.

He’s blinking, stopping dead in his tracks. Heart pounding a trillion beats per second against his chest. It hurts so much.

No no no no no.

He swishes around, almost toppling over a woman who glares and tuts at him before stomping away.

Was he hallucinating?

“Are you seriously asking me this?”

Sirius and James are on a fifteen minute break. They’re lying on the sofas in the staff room, spending their free time balancing water bottles on their foreheads.

“Yes.”

Sirius sighs, “No. I have never thought I was seeing colour when I wasn’t. Yes, I think you’re a moron.”

“I didn’t -”

“You're making up excuses, you knob. You know. You’ve been a blithering idiot ever since she set foot in the cafe.”

“All I'm saying is that there were a lot of people on that street,”

Sirius moves slightly and the bottle falls dramatically to the floor. “I know the Old Age Pensioner’s Zumba Class finished around six, perhaps it is the old lady with the moustache.”

Remus barges in, head ducking just in time as a water bottle flies across the room.

“What are two you doing in here? And why does it stink so bad?”

“Past your bedtime is it, Remus?” Sirius asks as he pulls James into a headlock.

“It’s past three thirty and it’s Wednesday.” Remus sends a curious glance in James’ direction, who immediately stuffs a cushion over his face. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Lily. Or it’s that old lady who grabbed my arse the other day, you know the one who always orders filter coffee and reeks of cotton balls,” says Sirius with a grin.

Remus leans against the door, shaking his head in amusement. “Well the old lady’s here right now. Why don’t you go and check, James?”

James gulps, feeling hot and sweaty even though he’s only wearing a t shirt and jeans. Sirius drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the door.

There’s not even a hint of colour. And no Lily Evans.

Panicking, he seizes hold of the closest thing, waving it in Remus’s face. “Look see. This is green.”

“That’s an egg, mate. Eggs aren’t green.”

“Dr Seuss would tell you otherwise. And how would you know, Remus? No offence.”

“But I do,” Sirius grabs for the egg, it twirls out of James’s hands and falls with a crack on the floor.

“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Peter tuts as cleans up the egg with a couple of cloths, “she’s been coming here for, how long? It feels like forever?”

“You looked like you were sea-sick each and every time. I never knew someone could get so affected by it.” Sirius muses, albeit smiling a little sadly as he pats James’s shoulder.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Maybe she’s just running late?” Remus glances at his watch, it’s almost four by now. Lily has never been late, not once. Dead on Wednesdays at three thirty (minus the Saturday when he first met her). James groans, he's such an idiot.

“Or maybe she got scared when she realised it’s James.”

A customer comes towards the counter and Peter takes one for the team, jogging towards them with a bright smile on his face.

“This is Lily we’re talking about,” Sirius shakes his head with a lopsided grin, “she's obviously crazy about him.”

“Well I don't see her. So I guess your premonition is wrong.”

It’s exactly what James was scared about ever since this whole mess started.

The colour dissolving, squeezed out of his life like water in a sponge, and knowing who it is makes it all the more unbearable. That freaking Lily Evans (the annoying customer turned tolerable acquaintance turned low-key crush turned soulmate) was it all along.

Only one good thing seems to come out of this mess, and that’s that he’s finally able to pay more attention to his classes - and actually submits his latest assignment in on time instead of seven hours later like his last one.

McGonagall has to pull him to one side after a lecture, asking him if anything is wrong.

There’s a hole in his heart, as cliche as it sounds, and the whole damn thing’s like ecstasy. He’s got no idea how Sirius can even manage, because now it’s been in his system he’s desperately wanting it all again.

Two weeks quickly become four and James longs to see her again.

So, at the first opportunity he gets, he taps in Sirius’s code on his phone (the same four digits he has for everything - even his bank code) and has only just opened up his contacts when he hears the sound of biker boots against the hardwood floor.

“Is there a reason why you’re using my phone?”

James Potter looks like a thief in the dead of night. “No. Hah! What - oh, this is your phone? I had no idea.”

Sirius crosses his arms. “No reason why you’re scrolling like a mad man through my L contacts either, eh?” he says with a winks and pops a strawberry into his mouth. James lets out a dejected sigh.

“I don’t have Lily’s number. Sorry.”

“You both joined the freaking Marmite society,”

“Rightly so, it needs more love.”

“And you don’t even have her number?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Realisation dawns upon him, a glorious and ethereal light bulb flickering on inside his head. He glances up, a smile pulling on his lips. “You both joined the Marmite society.”

Sirius looks uncomfortable. “Yes… but you hate marmite.”

“I love it. Best damned thing since sliced bread.”

“You'll hate it. We only joined so we could get the free jar, but meetings include eating marmite toast so it's not exactly your cup of tea.”

“I'm going to that meeting, you can't stop fate.”

No matter how many times Sirius tries to talk him out of it, James’ mind is set. It’s a brilliant plan.

“It’s an awful plan,” Sirius says for the twentieth time, “we don’t even know if she’s going to be there.”

The words fall short on deaf ears as the two of them make their way to the mini meeting room, tucked away in the far corners of the oldest part of The Hogwarts Students Union. The strange society is made up of about twelve people and, he’s remaining optimistic, Lily’s not there yet.

Marlene McKinnon, a mature, final year Law student, seems to be in charge of the whole society, as she stands about by the toaster with a pack of bread and ten jars of marmite surrounding her.

“You guys just sit and eat toast on marmite?” James hisses as Sirius shuts the door and makes his way to three people who are sat on the nearest couch.

“I did try to tell you.”

Frank Longbottom introduces himself to James, and the first thing he says is that he’s gone through ten jars of marmite so far during his lifetime. Luckily the door opens, stopping all further conversation which involves James having to lie about loving marmite.

Luckily the door opens and colour crystallises before his very eyes as Lily Evans comes barging into the room.

She stops, eyes immediately drawing to James and Sirius who both give her a small, guilty wave. She bites her lip, hand reaching for her bag strap which she squeezes hard once. Then, like she’s lost a battle she knows she can’t win, stomps towards the sofa before plopping down opposite him.

Her hair’s the shade of cinnamon sticks and her green eyes sparkle. Sirius waggles his eyebrows when she throws one leg over the other and leans forwards to them, a smirk on her bright red lips.

“I didn’t know you liked marmite, James.”

His throat’s dry. “Not like. I love it.”

“Every marmite lover is welcome!” Marlene places two plates full of marmite-spread toast in front of them and James has to gulp down a retch. “As our newest society member, you can take the first bite.”

He's got thirteen sets of eyes on him and Sirius has to stuff the sleeve of his leather jacket in his face to stop himself from sniggering. Lily watches him with a small expectant smile. It makes his stupid heart flutter and before he knows it he's grabbing at the toast and stuffing it into his mouth.

It's disgusting, so salty on his tongue that his eyes start to water. But no one else seems to notice, they're all too busy grabbing the toast like vultures to notice, and it’s only Lily’s eyes which still hang onto him and she cocks her head a little to the side. He must look a right state, with the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth and tears streaming down his face because she smiles.

He's never going to get used to it; it's euphoric, a tingling sensation all the way from his head to his fingertips.

“Alright?” Sirius asks.

Emmeline Vance produces a jar of vegemite from her bag and, as a society, they collectively decide to hold a tasting session during their next meeting. Dorcas Meadows hands everyone a Marmite Soc t shirt and, thanks to Bellamy Blake (who made sure they printed out more t shirts in the high hopes that the society would grow), James is given one too.

“I'm in love,” he whispers. Because, crap, he really thinks he is.

Staring at green eyes, seeing Lily’s red lips curve and her hair, like cherries, roses and the setting sun. Sirius shuffles besides him and James is only vaguely aware of murmuring voices around the room.

There’s a tap on his shoulder, the meeting’s over.

He just catches a brief glimpse of Lily’s red cardigan swishing out of the door before he’s springing to his feet, grabbing hold of his bag and telling Sirius, whose white t shirt and dark blue denim jeans are now a dull grey, that he’ll meet him later. He doesn’t even wait for a response.

His heart’s pounding, a dull but excited and throbbing ache that shoots up from his toes like pins and needles.

James has never felt anything like this, the intense desperation - eating him up and consuming him. He pushes past a group of students, a sorry tangling between his lips before he’s tripping over a backpack (honestly- who leaves their bags sprawled out like that?) and flying out onto the floor.

“What are you like, honestly.”

He knows that voice, and a surge of colour comes floating with it. It’s happened so many times now, the change not quite instant but more like paint sweeping onto a canvas - bringing everything to life.

His eyes flutter open, then closed.

Lily is standing above him, grinning, a hand on her hip as she shakes her head and sighs. Then she’s reaching out her hand and she’s the first sweet sounding note of an entrancing melody, just one small trickle of spine tingling laughter and he’s floating.

He realises this is the first time he’s ever touched her hand and he grips onto her that little bit tighter as she pulls him off the floor.

“Alright?” she asks when his feet have hit the ground.

Now that he’s found her, he’s not exactly sure what he should say. Words fail him, not for the first time, and somehow he feels ten times smaller under her intense gaze.

“Fantastic. Yourself?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Oh,” he says, immediately bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair.

She kicks the bag out of way, sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. It’s flu season and he hates being ill (almost as much as he hates marmite) but the prospect of it doesn’t seem too bad when she’s here in front of him. Red, runny nose and all.

She sets off walking and his feet follow - like she’s the biggest flame or source of light and he’s just a moth, so entranced that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He loves seeing in colour but there’s something about her, the way she stands out like paint pastels on a plain piece of paper.

“I err -” he clears his throat and itches his nose, “how have you been?”

“Busy.”

She stops at the small cafe located on the first floor, Puddifoot's, and asks for an Earl Grey tea. When her hands are sprawled around the take out cup, savouring the heat that flows through her fingers, and she’s sipping at the hot beverage she gives him another look.

“Classes were giving me hell so my friend, Mary, and I decided it’d be better if we spent our time here. Her boyfriend always has early lectures so he saves us seats when it’s busy.”

James nods, “What’s the coffee like here?”

“Disgusting,” she grins, a slight blush on her cheeks, “but it’s cheap and convenient.”

“You even have a loyalty card with us, this is treachery.”

“Yeah, but I still need five more drinks before I get one free,” she laughs and his heart soars.

They set off walking out of the students union, towards a plethora of wild flowers scattered over overgrown grass, a couple of wooden benches knotted into the greenery. She plops down onto one of the benches, sighing happily. She reaches into her bag to grab some torn bread, throwing it into the pond facing them.

There’s only one duck in there, which the students of Hogwarts University quickly nicknamed The Giant Duck as it’s abnormally larger than the average british duck.

He takes a deep breath and plunges into the unknown, of what he really wants to say.

“I, err, I thought you might have been - well - avoiding me.”

“To be honest, I thought I was too. That and this cold has been a nuisance.”

“Oh,” he scratches his nose and stuffs his hands into his jacket, “you should get some lemsip.”

“I wanted to, but apparently you have to be sixteen and over to buy it and I forgot my passport so the cashier wouldn’t let me buy it.”

“I could get it for you-”

She shakes her head, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s like, what, three pounds? I honestly don’t mind.”

He’s already standing up, sputtering that her health is the most important thing when she grabs hold of his arm. He pauses, frozen.

She sighs, “Look. I don’t want anything to be, uh, awkward between us. Okay?”

He stops, numbly allowing her to pull him back down on the bench. Their legs brush against each other but she doesn’t move and inch. “Why would it be awkward?”

“I thought you knew.”

His heart skips a beat and he chokes. “What? You… you knew?”

She smiles, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning. “Err yeah.”

“Since when?” his head’s woozy, fingers shaking.

“Since the beginning,” her voice falters slightly, “that day I panicked and heard Remus calling your name. And I fled. Then on the Saturday I was, well, curious?” Only now does she turn to look at him, staring deep into his eyes. He's transfixed. “I only realised once I'd left that your name was the same.”

“But you kept coming.”

“Can you blame me?” she laughs and he feels ablaze.

“Guess not,” he shrugs, “I don't think anyone has enough willpower to ignore it.”

“Yeah,” she takes a sip from her tea, “and I thought you knew, I swear. But then at Tesco you didn't say anything and I realised you didn't. I panicked, that's why I didn't come back, partly. Sorry. You must hate me.”

“I could never.”

She looks so uncomfortable and he's helpless.

He wants to reach out for her hand and never let go. Like she hears his thoughts, she scrunches her fist into her pocket.

“The thing is… I made a promise to myself at a young age that if I ever did see colour I wouldn’t let it control me.”

The Giant Duck quacks loudly and James, who’s been sat on the edge of his seat, waiting anxiously for her to speak, jumps at the sound. She grins, blowing her nose again.

“I want to be able to make my own choices, James. And not be influenced.”

“Okay,” he blinks.

“So I decided I needed to take a break from it all.”

“If you err, if you don't mind me saying,” he pauses, waiting for her nod to continue, “you're saying you don't want it to be in control but it looks like you're letting it.”

“I dont-”

“Running away from it, even if you don’t want it, isn't that just fear?”

“It’s not exactly that simple,” she says.

“I know it’s not,” he gulps, a never ending shiver running up and down his spine. He’s trembling. “But, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

The sun glows, and, under the deep orange rays she looks ten million times more radiant. He doesn’t care about cliché, he doesn’t care about anything else - only her.

She doesn’t want the colour, the myth of soulmates influencing and breathing down heavily on them. She smiles at him in the moment, moving forward, reaching out her hand so their fingers thread around each other.

And then she’s blinking, inching just that little bit closer towards him. She’s been chewing gum, he can smell peppermint as she breathes out and his eyes flutter closed in seconds.

Even with his eyes shut tight, he can still see colour. It’s more intense and vibrant than he’s ever known it, and he feels her lips place a chaste kiss on his.

It’s red and green, bursting into fireworks and butterflies alike, making his toes curl. He knows she’s feeling the same way, because she shivers against his touch and, when she rests her forehead against his and he has the strength to open his eyes again, she looks just as mesmerised.

He’s never felt more alive.

#jily #jily fanfic #jily au #jily fic #hiddenpolkadots #snapslikethis #gxldentrio #lilyevane #meraudurs #cupcakeblake #jiilys #bantasticbeasts #alrightevans #padfootdidit #IM SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS OMG #its my first soulmate au plz be nice #my fic #jily:fic

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prongsno · 7 years

Text

For Every Broken Dream

Chapter One (read on ao3) {4557 words} ( chapter two) At seventeen, James Potter's only option is to work in service at the large Evans estate as a farmer. He can't mess this up- he needs it more than ever. Shame things are never as easy as we want them to be.

Amidst a heavy blanket of snow there stands a shivering James Potter. His shoes are weak and frayed, multiple holes give the bone-chilling muddy snow access to his already numbed toes. He shivers, it’s unforgivably cold and the chill bites at his skin but still he marches on.

He fights against the harsh winter elements and pulls his tattered jacket closer around his shaking body. Then he stares up, mouth half open in amazement, at the house sitting on the hills.

The Evans manor looms over the horizon. It’s almost threatening.

It’s the largest house he has ever laid eyes on; extravagant and massive. Bright lights shine out of every window and hot smoke curls out of the dozens of chimneys, boastful and mocking.

It’s taunting him.

The closer and closer he gets to it the more… breathtaking it becomes.

It’s elegant and his saving grace, providing him with shelter, warmth, food and coin. And yet he has a terrible feeling that in some ways it will be like a prison. That it will, ultimately, also be his downfall.

He lets out a deep, shaky breath.

He needs the money, he needs to escape the madness, he needs… hope . And this opportunity rose out of the ashes like a God-send; he’d be a fool to pass it up. He could not mess this up.

This was everything to him.

Working for the Evans family, that’s his life now.

“Potter, I presume?” An old woman with striking blue eyes looks him up and down.

He feels her stare, at the state of his mud-splattered trousers and at the drenched jacket. He has half a mind to tell her that he can’t exactly control the weather now, can he? If it was sunny he’d be in a better appearance.

“Yes ma’am.”

But he remembers why he’s here. He remembers how important this is to him. That he can’t mess this up.

He looks at the woman straight and hard, like how he’s been told. Respectful, yielding. He’s in the working world now.

He gives her a clumsy bow, long legs buckle as his back bends. His cap slides off his head almost like it’s flying and lands, gracefully, into the puddle by his feet.

It’s the woman’s look of wild alarm as he grabs for it and squeezes out as much excess water as he can before placing it back over his windswept hair. But it’s also the precarious shadow of someone in one of the large windows, watching as the woman addresses herself as McGonagall, the housekeeper.

James feels somewhat on edge, like he’s in a lions den.

It’s when McGonagall turns away from the house and he follows after begrudgingly that he can still feel that stare on his back.

He gulps; uncertainty and fear cripples him. But he marches on.

Past the house, up the gravel pathway, and into the never-ending wood where the trees are so numerous and dense that in summer time you probably wouldn’t even be able to see the sky through it.

It’s about a ten minute walk before he’s met with the farmer’s fields.

There’s a thick scattering of frost, but he can make out the allotments filled with seeds and growing vegetables, apple trees and bushes surrounding the large farm that’s to the side. A quaint looking, but relatively decent-sized, cottage smiles at him from across the lane. Animal noises and sounds fill the air, it’s almost refreshing.

A plump and excited looking man stands waiting for them, a dog wags his bottle brush like tail non-stop by his feet.

“Mr Slughorn,” McGonagall states when they finally halt to a stop. “This is the boy.”

Slughorn takes James’ hands and he’s swept up into the most uncomfortable and yet pleasant hug imaginable. Calloused and rough hands then shake him, gigantic smiles and well-spoken wishes fill the air, that James is most welcome and that they’re now family.

The big dog lets out a happy woof, far too excited now by the prospect of making a new friend, and runs towards the newcomer. Dirty paws jump at him and then James is on the floor, laughing for what seems the first time in years as a smelly, wet tongue licks his face.

Despite everything, James finds himself grinning.

As long as he tries to forget about what happened… as long as tries to forget about the large house acres away and the rich family who reside inside it, he thinks he’ll enjoy it here.

He gets used to the routine pretty quickly.

It’s a fast paced environment; he wakes up early and sleeps late and does chore after chore. But James wouldn’t change it for the world.

He feeds the chickens with a smile on his face, grooms the Captain Evans’ horses with care and even learns how to milk Myrtle (which he quickly dubs Mooing Myrtle, for the cow is always mooing about something).

Slughorn is also quite the character, forever getting into sticky situations to which James is forever and constantly helping the old man get out of. He’s like an old, embarrassing uncle which he’s never had and it’s suddenly as if he’s always been at the Evans estate.

The farm is like his home, the animals his friends and Slughorn the family member he needs now more than ever.

It’s peaceful and full of tranquillity and soon a day becomes a week, then a month and suddenly he finds that he’s been working at the farm for what feels like his whole life.

He’s never seen the family that live on the house on the hills and he's keen on keeping it that way.

He gives the food and milk to the servants, who then take it back to the house in old wooden carts. One servant, a sweet girl named Mary who he befriends quickly, speaks of nothing but high praise for the family. But he’s determined and stubborn.

No one with that much money is good.

He would much rather stay in the quaint little farm and block out the family living in luxury just on the other side of the field, thank you very much. And so that’s what he does.

There are other helpers and workers on the fields, but the main duties rely heavily on Slughorn, and thus, as his new apprentice, James too.

“You’re doing well, m’boy.” Slughorn beams up at James one day (he towers over the short man, but neither seem to mind).

It’s a fine, spring day when the two are out in the fields, checking on the strawberry plants and discussing the many uses of manure as a fertiliser.

“Thank you,” James grins and picks up a daisy, threading it through the top button hole of his shirt. “I never thought I would say this, sir, but… manure is so fascinating.”

“It really is, my dear boy!” The old farmer laughs and, with a shocking amount of force for such an old and small man, whacks him hard on the back. It brings tears to his eyes, but they’re happy.

“I needed a good chortle,” The old man smiles a little absently. “Say, how much do you think you’ve learned since coming here?”

“Quite a lot, sir.”

James begins to list off the duties he knows how to do by heart, bending his fingers as he ticks them off his mental list.

He admits that he’s still rather new to pruning and that shearing a sheep is his worst nightmare, but Slughorn doesn’t see that as a problem and brushes it off with a wave of his hand.

The man clears his throat and twiddles his thumbs, thinking how best to tell the lad.

“Listen, Potter.” Slughorn starts. “I have to run an errand. Just for a short while… can I leave the farm and the fields in your capable hands?”

James is nodding in an instant. Of course, he would have never been able to say no… but the thought of being in control of the farm and (hopefully) getting a few more coins out of it is certainly enticing.

“I’ve already sent word for someone to help you. Sirius, a young lad who lives nearby. He’s helped me on occasion and has kindly agreed to keep you company and to share the workload.” Slughorn smiles. “He’s a troublemaker, but no doubt the two of you will have immense fun. As long as you don’t neglect your duties to the farm then I have no problem. He’ll be here on the second day of my departure, alright?”

“You can count on me, sir.”

Throughout the following days Slughorn helps James with anything he needs, but the man says he has the utmost faith that he will do a good job.

Then the day finally arrives.

Slughorn puts on his ‘going out’ hat, gets his nicer looking walking stick and embraces him in a tight, father-like hug. He tells James he doesn’t know when he’ll be back, but will send a letter once his errand is done.

Then he places a rake into James’ scruffy hands.

“Remember, Sirius will be here tomorrow to help. I’m depending on you, boy. Don’t let me down.”

He watches as the man hobbles down the lane, waving one last time before the trees block him from view. James waves the rake, feeling too many emotions at once.

And suddenly he’s alone.

It’s a feeling he hasn’t been used to in a while, since before it all happened. He loves and hates it at the same time; it’s unsettling but the fact that Sirius will be here tomorrow makes it slightly more bearable.

So, he decides today he’ll do his best to relax.

Should be easy.

As he walks up towards the vegetation fields he hums out a merry tune. The sun is hot against the back of his neck and he basks in the delightful southern heat. It’s far more pleasant than the horrible weather he’s been used to.

He closes his eyes and exhales. The peace he feels is so uplifting, it’s like he could float away into the clouds.

Breathing in that fresh air had at first seemed so utterly bizarre. He was used to smog and smoke; pollution and dirt everywhere, the tell-tale signs of a bustling, metropolitan city on the move.

But here the air is crisp and kind, the sky always clear and gentle. Here he can relax and not worry.

That is, until he notices a figure by the batch of strawberry plants. The figure clings suspiciously to a basket that’s full to the brim of flowers, whistling rather merrily as they help themselves to strawberries.

James lets out a furious gasp.

The strawberries that he has spent so much time and effort on. That he has laboured and loved over.

He breaks into a run and races towards them.

“Oi, thief!”

His voice rings throughout the fields, causing a few birds to scatter and flurry out of trees. The thief looks up in alarm then breaks into a sprint.

He swears under his breath and hurries after. His legs ache and his chest burns, but he picks up his speed. The thief is fast but James, thanks to all of the manual labour he’s been doing, has the edge.

He reaches out and, after a few failed attempts, finally catches hold of their thieving little basket and pulls with all his might. The handle rips off and maybe he didn’t think this through enough because suddenly the thief gives out a little yelp.

They trip over a stump in the ground then fall, face flat, into a patch of daisies.

He tries to slow down, but it’s no use. He widens his eyes, unable to stop himself, and flies forwards; he hits the thief’s back and falls forcefully on top.

“Ooof!”

Well, this is one way to catch a thief.

James has no time to check for injuries. The thief groans underneath him and tries to wriggle free but he quickly grabs hold of their arms and winds a leg around the theirs, keeping them locked underneath him.

“How dare you steal from this farm! What gives you the right?” He huffs, breathing heavily in the hopes that his racing heart will quickly calm down.

“I wasn’t stealing!” The thief says hotly… sounding extremely feminine and high pitched for a male.

James narrows his eyes and grips a little tighter. Then, with as much strength as he can manage, flips the thief over (surprisingly an incredibly easy thing to do).

The thief isn’t a man at all. It’s a woman.

James blinks and looks at the girl underneath him.

The strawberry thief…

...she’s blinding.

She’s a beautiful sunset. Soft like velvet against his skin.

Her bright red hair flows out onto grass around them, and wide, almond shaped green eyes look up at him.

Freckles adorn her smooth looking skin, splattering across her cheeks and nose like a dusting of icing sugar on a victoria sponge (not that he’s ever had the honour of tasting such a delicacy but he’s seen the beautiful cakes through shop windows, when he’d press his nose against the glass, close his eyes and breathe in so heavily you could almost taste the sweetness on your tongue).

James swallows, suddenly unsure on what to do.

His hands still grip onto her tightly but he realises numbly that their bodies are pressed rather unceremoniously close together. He’s so close that he can hear her short gasps for breath amidst his own heavy breathing. Finally he breaks eye contact and nods towards the basket.

“What do you call that then, eh?” He asks, reaching out to grab hold of one of the plumper looking strawberries.

He waves it in her face. In return he receives a lethal looking scowl and eye-roll. The thief grumbles something under her breath then tries to wriggle free from under his grip.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what the hell you think you were doing.” He warns. “And why you’re in boy’s clothes.” He’s only just noticed and stares at her in shock.

She’s wearing an oversized button top and grey cotton trousers. And she’s barefoot.

He opens his mouth to comment on that too, (about how she’s a weird person because, aren’t there brambles and nettles in these parts?) but she huffs and stares up at him defiantly.

“Who even are you? Where’s Slughorn?”

“He’s off doing some errand, he left me in charge.”

He finds it slightly odd that the two of them are making conversation (if that is what you could call it, anyhow) in the bodily situation they’re in and tries his best not to blush. He can’t let the thief know, otherwise she’ll have the upper hand.

He’s never even really talked to a woman his age before, let alone be straddling a young lady and branding them as a strawberry thief.

“Aah.” She nods her head and gives him a smile that throws him off guard.

“So you’re the new protege?” She seems to have no problem whatsoever with the whole situation; she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and his heart skips a beat, his grip on her loosens.

She glances up at him, craning her neck to look at the rest of him.

“You’re a bit… well. Not what I was imagining.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m extremely capable, thank you very much.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Strawberry Thief laughs and James has to breathe out slowly again.

He needs to keep his wits and remember that she’s committed a crime.

“I just thought you would be younger. More youthful-”

“I’m only seventeen.” James grumbles. “Not exactly a pensioner.”

When she laughs it’s exactly what he imagines Heaven to sound like. Like something in a dream, in a faraway land under shooting stars and beside hundreds of ancient, shimmering caves.

“Look,” The thief starts, catching his gaze. She smiles at him and this time it’s a sweet and genuine expression.

“If I promise not to run away can you, please, release me so we can both stand? Unless you like being in this kind of position-”

In an instant he lets go, like she’s burning metal in his hands. He hears her chuckle and avoids her eyes as he stands. She’s grinning like a mad-man, looking smugly at him, as he moves his chest back, untangles his legs and leaps upwards. Her smirk widens even more when he offers out his hand and she takes it without a second thought.

She’s tiny, only reaching the bottom of his neck and yet she almost outran him. James can’t believe it.

“What’s your name?” She asks as soon as her feet hit the soft grass.

“Uh… James. James Potter.” He drops her hand and scratches the back of his neck. He’s in foreign waters and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

“Well, James Potter.” Strawberry Thief nods. “It was fun, but I have to leave now.” She walks towards the basket and James gapes after her.

“Wait, what? I just caught you stealing those and now you think you can get away with it?”

He lunges for three of the berries that still scatter the ground, grabbing them just before she can.

“I have half a mind to report you and bring you to McGonagall. She’s the housekeeper of this estate and runs it for the family who own it.”

“Oh?” She asks, her eyes twinkling. “And what of the family?”

“Dunno. They’re just some poncy rich folk who have too much money on their hands.”

Truthfully, he has no idea why he’s saying any of this to her… he could get in trouble for that. And he’s caught her stealing, he’s just seen it with his own eyes, and yet… yet why is he so reluctant to do what he deems just? She’s just committed a crime.

She’s a thief.

“Then what’s the harm of me taking a few strawberries and flowers?”

He pauses, she’s caught him there. And they both know it.

She stares at him expectantly and folds her arms against her chest, waiting for his answer. He wishes he could wipe that smug look of her face but in the end all he does is sigh.

“Well…” He’s baffled. “I…”

Maybe this girl is poorer than he is. Maybe she’s having as much trouble with life as he was. She only wanted to pick a few harmless flowers and strawberries. Surely he isn't that cruel, right?

“I guess I can let you off this once.” He grimaces at his defeat, trying not to blush when she grins at him and her eyes shine like the stars.

“You can keep those.” She says, nodding to the bundle still in his hand. “For the trouble I caused.”

And with that she skips off down the lane that leads towards the estate.

James shakes his head and follows her with his gaze.

What a crazy woman. Hopefully he’ll never see her again.

Sirius, as Slughorn promised, arrives at the farm promptly at 8’oclock the following morning.

Tousled, messy black hair, bright grey, twinkling eyes. He’s biting a large red apple, chewing it loudly like a cow as he looks James up and down.

“I thought you’d be…” Sirius trails off, crunching into his apple once more. Juice dribbles onto his chin and he wipes his face with the rolled up sleeve of his blue shirt. “Younger?”

“Seriously? What’s wrong with me being the way I am?”

“Nothing!” Sirius lets out a merry hum and walks towards the farm. James has no choice but to reluctantly follow after him.

The lad grabs a spade and hands James the rake with a grin.

“It’s just, well. McGonagall must have really liked you. Usually apprentices are eleven or twelve, y’know old enough to learn and grow but young enough too… are you her son or something?”

“God, no!” James gasps. It’s like something has just stabbed at his heart. He gulps, trying to laugh off the pain. “I was just extremely lucky. At my old home we had a neighbour who was friends with someone whose brother’s wife is McGonagall.”

“Ah, okay. Do you miss your home a lot?”

A deeply personal question, one James isn’t sure if he should (or even could) answer.

“Well I…” He trails off, uncertain. “There isn’t much left for me there. But… yeah. Of course I miss it.”

Sirius nods, biting down the question on his lips.

“So!” He says, trying to brighten the mood. He twirls the spade as they enter the fields. “Have you met any of the Evans lot yet?”

“Honestly, I’ve been avoiding them as much as possible. I don’t really feel comfortable around… um… rich folk.” James says the two words with a grumble, glaring up at the sun as he wipes his forehead.

He misses Sirius’ startled look. That’s not the answer he was expecting. He forces out a huge yawn and stretches his arms up towards the sky.

“They’re not so bad, as far as rich people go anyways.”

As he talks, Sirius shows James a handy trick with the spade. And, once their chores are done, they trail down the fields, towards the farmyard.

They have to load the carts full of dairy produce for the manor today, something that James always hates doing but he’s relieved that he’s got help this time.

It’s Mary who waits by the lane as always, a sweet smile gracing her lips. She has the ability to brighten up any gloomy day and as soon as James sees her he can’t help but relax a little.

“Alright, Mary? Here’s the whats-its and what-nots as always,” James stops the cart, waiting for the other usual servant, Mr Diggory, to catch them all up.

“Afternoon James.” She smiles and gives him a friendly smile and nod. “Who’s your friend?” It’s when her eyes fall onto Sirius that a slight blush appears on her cheeks.

James grins and whacks Sirius, who’s pretending to be fascinated at the dairy produce, hard in the side.

“Sirius.” The boy almost belts out. He glares at James and then finally allows his eyes to fall onto the small girl standing in front of them.

She smiles hopefully at him, her cheeks a little blushed and her eyes full of wonder and hope. He grimaces and forces his gaze to fall onto Mr Diggory, who’s now exclaiming what a wonderful day it is.

“Ello lads, isn’t that sun glorious?” The man smiles and points to the magnificent sun that’s shining so brightly it’s like the manor is sparkling.

James supposes, rather begrudgingly, it is a beautiful sight. And perhaps, when he casts a sneaky glance towards Sirius, who has a tinge of red on his cheeks and is trying his hardest not to meet the gaze of the still awe-struck and bashful Mary, there are some other things in life that have beauty in them also.

Sirius is unusually quiet on their short walk back to the farm (in the short amount of hours James has known him it’s highly apparent that the boy can talk the hind legs off a donkey). He had said goodbye rather abruptly and loudly after the chore was done, forcing James to give a shocked (and definitely disappointed) Mary a sheepish smile as he told her he’d see her later.

What Sirius’ problem is, he has no idea. The boy is definitely handsome and he’s certain he has had his fair share of women showing an interest. But James isn’t one to pry.

“Hey.” He asks, finding it strange to see Sirius so silent. “So what can you tell me about the Evans family then?”

That seems to cheer him up and soon James is listening to an oral essay on the gentry and the manor house.

“The one to avoid is definitely the eldest daughter. Lady Petunia Evans. Horrid woman. She’s betrothed to this walrus of a man and they’re just the most dreadful people. The youngest daughter is nice though, Lady Lily.”

“Huh. I didn’t know they had any daughters.”

They reach the farm. Padfoot runs towards them, woofing happily. The canine jumps up at Sirius, who seems as excited to see the dog as the dog is to see him. Mooing Myrtle moos moodily in the distance, she’s getting a little restless.

“Have you worked here before, then?” James asks, nodding towards Padfoot who Sirius is now cradling in his arms like a giant, fluffy baby.

The boy freezes. “Here?”

“Padfoot’s acting like you’re his best friend. And Slughorn mentioned that you’ve helped him before. He said you lived nearby.”

Sirius lets out an awkward chuckle, puts down Padfoot and scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, ha. I err, I just come by sometimes to help is all.”

“So are you from the estate nearby… what was it called again? Like a colour or something…” James grabs hold of a bucket and walks towards Myrtle.

He misses Sirius’ grimace. “Black. It’s the Black Manor.”

“Right. You work there?”

“I guess you could say that.” He grins.

They work in silence for a while, Myrtle seems a lot happier now and the pig Dolores snorts happily in her pen. But James still has that burning question and he finally lets it out.

“Do you get a lot of thieves around here?”

Sirius looks up in alarm. “Thieves? Like... highway men?”

“Like… um. Girls.”

“Girls?”

James nods, his cheeks hot. “There was a girl and she stole some strawberries.”

“Weird.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve never heard of a strawberry thief around here.”

“She was weird. She was absolutely barmy. Wore boys clothes and was barefoot. I mean, who does that?”

“That is a very unusual thing… didn’t you ask for her name?”

“Ah… I um.” James drops a glass bottle and he moves his feet quickly away from the shattered glass.

Sirius snorts. “Lost your speech to her beauty, eh?”

“No!” They both know he’s lying. James tries his best to ignore the boy’s suggestive eyebrows. “I err, she didn’t say her name-”

“Well, if she was stealing I doubt she’d give that away freely.”

“I let her go. I could have reported her to McGonagall… but I didn’t.” James scowls as he remembers her. How guilty he felt, how unsure he was. He picks up a daisy, threading the fragile flower through his fingers. “I kept thinking, ‘what if she’s as poor as me?’ and the guilt just gnawed inside at me.”

He doesn’t notice the strange way Sirius scratches his nose. Or the way he looks like he should say something, the boy opens his mouth, but closes it almost instantly. When James turns to look at him he just shrugs his shoulders innocently.

“Guess you won’t find out ‘till you see her again.”

“You think I will?”

The sun is setting behind them. The farmers fields look almost alight under the fierce glare and hot air swirls around them, caressing their faces.

“I bet she’s even closer than you think.” Is all Sirius says.

The two boys watch, Padfoot laid across the both of them, as the sun slowly sinks behind the hills. One day down, another is just about to begin.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #snapslikethis #gxldentrio #jilylicious #cupcakeblake #bantasticbeasts #alrightevans #lilyevane #jily:fic #my fic #WOW SO NERVOUS ABOUT THIS #ITS MY BABY PLZ BE NICE

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