safe harbor

by vagueshadows

Summary:

It was a predictable predicament, Lily in a bikini, a torment James had all too willingly – eagerly – signed himself up for when he’d agreed to invite the girls on the beach holiday. But of course he’d agreed, because James is a good friend.
Or a glutton for punishment.
Or a pervert.
All of the above, probably.

Or: It’s the summer before their 7th year, and James invites the Gryffindors to his family’s beach house for a week. How many tropes can Lily and James wade into before the week is over?

For Jily Week 2025 Day 5: Summer Fling!

Notes:

For Jily Week 2025 Day 5: Summer Fling!

Chapter 1: predictable predicaments

chapter one: predictable predicaments

Saturday, 16 July 1977

It’s all Peter’s fault, really.

After all, Peter had been the one to suggest that James invite the Gryffindor girls to join them on their annual beach holiday.  Peter had proposed it because it’s the first year they’re allowed to go without parental supervision now that they’re of age, and he’d wanted to invite his on-and-off girlfriend, Bertha, on the trip; Peter thought she might feel weird if she was the only female amongst their male foursome so he’d asked James to invite the Gryffindor girls in their year to make Bertha feel more comfortable, even though Bertha is in Hufflepuff, because apparently the bonds of shared anatomy run deeper than the bonds of shared houses. 

James, the ever-obliging mate, had agreed. 

Then Peter and Bertha had broken up (again) shortly thereafter, but James had already extended the invitation to the Gryffindor girls and he would’ve felt like an utter prick if he rescinded it.  And that is how James finds himself in his current situation, with Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary joining him and the lads for a week-long unsupervised holiday at his family’s beach house.

It’s a somewhat convoluted set of circumstances for which James is not wholly ungrateful – in fact, he would say that, overall, he is actually quite looking forward to the addition of the girls on the holiday, except for one minor, insignificant detail:

He is rather in love with Lily Evans.   

Everything about becoming friends with Lily over the past year has been simultaneously complete euphoria and downright torture, because being her friend has confirmed that she’s every bit as wonderful as he’d always hypothesized; being friends with her has confirmed that they have a natural, playful banter that makes his heart race; being friends with her has confirmed that she’s clever and brilliant, eager to consume everything about the magical world despite its cruelties; being friends with her has confirmed that she’s kind and warm and compassionate and will do anything for the people she cares about; being friends with her has confirmed that she has a strong sense of justice, and that she’s brave enough to call people (even her friends) on their shit. 

Being friends with her has confirmed that he doesn’t just fancy her, but that he’s actually irrevocably, inconveniently in love with her.

And on top of all that is the all-consuming, overwhelming physical attraction he feels toward her, an intense swoop of desire low in his stomach every time she walks into a room, like a million Snitches have taken flight inside his body.  It’s a feeling he’s gotten accustomed to over the years and has generally had a handle on since becoming mates…

…until now.

Because here she is, at his family’s beach house, looking dead sexy in a navy bikini.

It was a predictable predicament, Lily in a bikini, a torment James had all too willingly – eagerly – signed himself up for when he’d agreed to invite the girls on the beach holiday.  But of course he’d agreed, because James is a good friend. 

Or a glutton for punishment. 

Or a pervert. 

All of the above, probably. 

Sighing to himself, James sets out toward the beach, where everybody else is already lounging.  The girls had arrived mid-afternoon and Marlene immediately insisted that everyone go straight to the beach; James had quickly retreated to the house under the guise of a gracious host retrieving refreshments – which are currently floating behind him, so it wasn’t a total sham – so he could have a hasty, pathetic wank (thinking of nothing but Lily in that fucking bikini) in hopes that he would emerge a functional human being, which is something he’s fairly certain he was prior to seeing Lily Evans in said bikini. 

It didn’t work.

“I come bearing gifts,” says James, announcing his presence like a tremendous twat with an exaggerated gesture toward the snacks and beverages he so magnanimously procured.  He distantly wonders whether he should just go ahead and submit a transfer request to Ilvermorny or Durmstrang now, as he’s already quite certain he’s going to spend the next week making such an absolute tit of himself that he’ll never be able to show his face around Hogwarts again. 

A murmur of gratitude ripples through the group.  Lily approaches, looking a bloody sea nymph (that wank really didn’t work), and positively beams at him when she sees that the snacks include some muggle treats. 

“Maltesers!” she gasps, giddy.  “These are my favorite!”

He’d known that, of course, but her praise still makes his heart flutter pathetically.

“Things are a bit more integrated around here,” he says, and he’s prouder than he should be for managing to sound mostly normal despite the fact that Lily is standing right in front of him wearing that damn bikini.  “There’s a shop in town that sells both muggle and wizard goods.” 

She tilts her head and smiles so brightly it puts the sun to shame.  “You’ll have to take me sometime this week.”

James really wishes she wasn’t wearing sunglasses so he could read the look in her eyes.  This is another problem he’s had since becoming friends with Lily: sometimes it seems like she might be flirting with him, but she’s so damn friendly it’s really hard to spot the difference. 

He’s also trying really hard not to stare at her tits – which look fucking perfect in that bikini, and he would sell his bloody invisibility cloak to be able to kiss every freckle on them – and being able to look at her beautiful green eyes would give him something else to focus on.

“Sure,” he replies breezily.  He grins and rumples his hair with the air of someone completely unaffected by the goddess before him.  “I’d love to.”

Her smile widens.  “I’ll hold you to it.” 

He covertly admires the sway of her hips as she walks back over to her towel and plops herself next to the other girls, dolling out Maltesers with great animation.  The truth stretches out in front of him, as clear as the blue sea water: there’s no way he’ll make it through the week without finding some way to royally cock things up.

“I’m gonna go for a swim,” James declares to no one in particular, desperate to get away from her before he gets another erection.  Remus snorts but doesn’t look up from his book; Sirius grabs a beer and shoots James a look somewhere between exasperation and pity; Peter and Marlene stand up to join him for the swim; Lily is in deep conversation with Mary and Dorcas – about Maltesers, hopefully, and not about how much of a pervy prat he is – and probably didn’t even hear him.

Peter removes his T-shirt as he heads toward the water with Marlene and, with something akin to panic, James realizes that he will also need to remove his own shirt, because what kind of lunatic wears a T-shirt whilst going for a swim in the waves?  Not Peter, clearly, so James can’t very well keep his shirt on.  James isn’t self-conscious about his body – while his rigorous Quidditch training regimen is mostly for function, the aesthetic advantages are a nice bonus – but the idea that both he and Lily will be less clothed than they’ve ever been in each other’s presence sends his pulse roaring in his ears.

Lily’s sunning herself now, blissfully oblivious to James’s inner panic; she probably hasn’t even noticed that James has removed his shirt or given a single thought to the fact that they’re now both naked-adjacent because – unlike James – she is a normal, functional, non-perverted human being who is capable of seeing people in swimwear without having some sort of an aneurysm.

Still, as he moves to join Peter and Marlene, James can’t help but chance another glance at her over his shoulder.  Mary says something and Lily tosses her head back, laughing vibrantly; he sighs, utterly besotted.  Seeming to sense his gaze – he’s grateful for his own sunglasses to conceal the open longing that is surely written all over it – she looks over at him and smiles brightly again, offering a cheery wave.  It does nothing to quell the licentious stirrings inside him; his heart thunders violently and the air leaves his lungs as he offers his own pitiful little wave in return, then quickly turns back around to submerge himself in the water before he can debase himself further.

This is all Peter’s fault.

* * *

It’s all Mary’s fault, really.

After all, Mary was the one who had practically begged them all to accept James’s invitation to the beach house so that she could finally shag Sirius.  Why it was necessary for all of them to come to the beach for Mary to accomplish that was still a mystery. 

But Lily, the ever-obliging mate, had reluctantly agreed. 

It’s not that Lily hadn’t wanted to go.  Of course she did – who wouldn’t want to spend an entire week on holiday at a posh beach house with their best friends for free?  Lily had been more than happy to agree, except for one minor, insignificant detail:

She fancies the pants off James Potter.

It’s a stupid, secret, rather inconvenient crush she’s been harboring for the better part of the past year, ever since they started to spend more time around each other and she realized that he’s actually quite wonderful.  It’s not just his physical appearance, though that certainly helps – tall with lean muscle and perpetual sex hair, all which seem accentuated at the beach by his summer tan and sea-swept locks.   But it’s also the way he treats the people he cares about.  It’s the way he makes people laugh.  It’s the way he’s so effortlessly brilliant at everything he attempts. 

It’s all the ways he so casually makes her feel like she matters. 

But, as the cruel tides of fate would have it, by the time Lily had sorted out her feelings for him, James had seemingly moved on from whatever feelings he’d had for her in fifth year.  He’d gone out with other girls and given no indication that his feelings toward her were anything but platonic.

They’re just mates now, and that’s all they’ll ever be.

Lily has made peace with this bitter truth and has generally managed to keep her yearning in check, settling for being grateful to be given the gift of his friendship despite the volatility of their early history.  But sometimes – such as when he’d surfaced from the sea looking like a literal Greek god – it’s really bloody hard to not wish for more. 

It’s the reason she’d had some reluctance about agreeing to come on the holiday in the first place.  It’s easy enough to be just his mate when they’re surrounded by professors and peers and distracted by NEWTs and Quidditch and Prefect duties and war, but something about the relaxed summer atmosphere makes it harder for her to ignore their natural chemistry.  But in the end she’d agreed, because Lily is a good friend.

Or desperate. 

Or a masochist.

All of the above, probably.

And so here she is, bag packed full of her skimpiest swimsuits and shortest shorts and feeling quite pathetic about it because she knows nothing is going to happen with James – this week or ever.  That ship had sailed after fifth year – or his had, anyway, while hers has remained stubbornly anchored in the rough waters of unrequited feelings.

Sighing to herself, Lily finishes plaiting her damp hair and emerges from the bathroom where she’d been getting ready for bed, then pads down the hallway to the bedroom she’s sharing with Mary for the week.  She’s looking forward to the sweet release of sleep after enduring the beautiful torture of being around a shirtless James Potter for the bulk of the afternoon and evening – at least he always wants her in her dreams. 

As soon as she cracks open the door, Lily is immediately assaulted by the sounds of snogging, which must have been suppressed in the hallway by a Silencing Charm.  Eyes wide, she enters the room to see Sirius and Mary on the bed, not bothering to stop their amorous activities when she enters the room.

She clears her throat pointedly and they finally disengage from each other’s mouths.  “Oh – hey Lily,” Mary giggles breathlessly.

“This room’s taken, Evans,” Sirius says with an unapologetic grin.  “But there’s a vacant spot in James’s room that you’re welcome to take tonight.”

“Or you two can take this elsewhere so I can go to bed here?” Lily suggests, blushing furiously.

“Aw, c’mon Evans, don’t be unsporting.”  His eyes dance with amusement.  “I promise James is a good bed mate – doesn’t snore, and you won’t even need a blanket because his body heat rivals the fucking sun.”

Mary looks at her with pleading eyes, and Lily lets out a long-suffering sigh.  It’s a curse, sometimes, being such a good friend – which is obviously the only reason she’s going along with this. 

“Fine,” she grumbles.  “Have fun.”

As she trudges down the hallway toward James’s room, she is hit with a sharp and sudden feeling of stupidity.  She should have seen this coming.  Upon reflection, it was, in fact, a predictable predicament – Mary’s been talking about shagging Sirius ever since they were invited on this trip, and though Lily has always been too embarrassed to reveal the extent of her feelings, Mary at least knows that Lily thinks James is fit, and has been not-so-subtly suggesting that Lily needs to get laid. 

Why wouldn’t Mary go ahead and kill two birds with one stone?

Accepting her fate with a grace and maturity well beyond her seventeen years (or perhaps it’s simply liquid courage from the glass of wine she’d consumed during dinner), Lily takes a steadying breath and knocks lightly on the ajar door before pushing it open. 

The room is bigger than the one she shares with Mary, clearly the master bedroom, complete with its own ensuite.  The walls are painted a pale, serene blue, and a large bed sits in the center of the room.  James is sitting up against the headboard, reading a book – shirtless again, cotton pajama pants slung sinfully low on his narrow hips.  Lily swallows the lump in her throat, quickly trying to rearrange her features from a look of open lust into one of feigned annoyance. 

James glances up from his book when she enters, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.  “Alright, Evans?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been kicked out of my room by Sirius.”  She lets out a theatrical sigh for good measure, hoping a façade of frustration will mask both her anxiety and her pining.

“Sorry, he’s an arse,” replies James with the tone of apology Sirius was lacking.  “I can go yank him out of there if you’d like – I’m not above cockblocking.”

“Chivalrous offer, that.  But I don’t think Mary would ever forgive you, she’s been plotting to shag Sirius ever since you invited us on this trip.”

“She knows how Sirius is, yeah?” James asks, brow furrowing slightly in concern.  “He’s not really the relationship type.”

“Neither is Mary,” Lily replies.  “Think she’s just looking for a reliable shag for the week.  They’re well-suited that way, actually, I’m surprised they haven’t hooked up before.”

“Sirius generally tries to steer clear of people in our year after things got messy with Ophelia Beaumont in fifth,” James explains.  “Easier to avoid people when you don’t share classes with them and all that.”

“What happened with Beaumont?”

“She got a bit…obsessive.  They only hooked up once, toward the end of fifth, but she wouldn’t leave him alone after that.”

“I do remember her openly ogling him for pretty much our entire Defense OWL,” Lily muses.  “Reckon she must’ve gotten a T on it.”

“Probably,” he snorts.  “She sent him letters nearly every day last summer – love confessions, poems, even some – er – explicit photos, which was as fun to explain to my parents as you could imagine.”

“She did not!” Lily says in a scandalized whisper as she takes a seat on the foot of the bed.

“It’s true.  They didn’t even shag, just second hoop, and he said it was an A at best.”

“An A?” Lily asks incredulously.  “Does he grade all his hookups?”

James grimaces.  “Yes – says it’s for the greater good.  His standards are ridiculous, though, so I’m not sure it would even be particularly helpful to anyone.  Only two O’s in the whole list – and it’s a pretty long list.”

“Who!”

“Gaia Knight and Benjy Fenwick.”

“You’re having me on!”

“Am not!” James says with a laugh.  “Anyway, Mary should probably be warned that she’ll be graded on her performance.”

Lily laughs too.  “I’d tell her now but I reckon they’re already going at it.  I’ll fill her in in the morning, make sure she’s putting out her best if they keep it up.”

“Good of you.”  He pauses and sits up straighter, mirth dissolving into uncertainty.  “So, er – you want to crash here, then?  I didn’t realize Sirius was planning to hijack your room.  I can sleep on the floor or on the couch downstairs—”

“That’s alright,” she says quickly, blush blooming on her cheeks.  “It’s a big bed, I think we can share.”

James opens and closes his mouth a few times, then croaks, “You sure?”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.  We’re friends, yeah?”  Friends.  The word echoes hollowly in her head.  She shrugs in a way that she hopes looks indifferent, adding, “Sirius alleges you don’t snore, so it’s really no different than sleeping next to Mary.”  Except it is entirely different – she doesn’t want to snog Mary or touch Mary or do any number of much more sinful acts with Mary. 

He clears his throat, smiling tightly.  “Alright, then.  If you’re sure you’re okay with it...” 

He sets his book on the nightstand, then removes his glasses and places them next to his book.  Lily can’t recall a time she’s ever seen James without his glasses this close up and finds herself fixated on his eyes, golden like honey and so fucking warm she can practically feel herself melting...

She realizes she’s been staring when he clears his throat and asks, “Er – which side would you like?  I can move if you—”

“This one’s fine,” she says, voice high and face hot, and hurriedly moves to the side he doesn’t occupy.

Once she’s settled, he turns off the lights with a casual wave of his wand and they’re plunged into darkness.  James must be able to hear the pounding of her heart in the stifling silence.

“Well – er – goodnight, then,” James says awkwardly.   

“Night!” squeaks Lily.

This is all Mary’s fault. 

Notes:

a little nervous to share this one because it'll be my first multi-chapter and first smut, but what the hell - it's Jily Week!

not sure when the next chapter will be up, so follow me on tumblr for updates :)

Chapter 2: where the night goes

Summary:

In most situations, James Potter considers himself a man of action. He prides himself on his Gryffindor courage. But when it comes to Lily he often feels stupefied, flitting haphazardly between loose-lipped and tongue-tied, the painful weight of wanting more and the paralyzing fear that one wrong move will ruin everything twisting inside him into a confusing braid. Though they’ve formed a genuine friendship over the past year it still feels tenuous, like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of catastrophe, his anxiety whispering insidiously in his ear that he’s just one fuck-up away from total calamity.

Sharing a bed with Lily for a week, quite frankly, seems like a recipe for one spectacular, irreparable fuck-up.

chapter two: where the night goes

Sunday, 17 July 1977

It’s 6:00AM when James’s eyes flutter open.

James has always been an early riser; his mum often jokes that she could set the clocks by his circadian rhythm.  Ever since he was a baby, he’s woken up for the day at 6:00AM on the dot, bright-eyed and energetic. 

As a child he attacked each morning with alacrity, whizzing around Peverell Manor like an uncontainable tsunami the moment his eyes opened.  The house would still be quiet as he zoomed around on his broomstick, terrifying the house elf and crashing into priceless family heirlooms.  Once he got to Hogwarts, his mates were quickly annoyed with his early morning antics – especially Remus, who firmly believes that anyone who voluntarily wakes up before 9:00AM is a masochist – and that’s when he decided to take up running. 

Now, James begins most mornings with a long run.  It’s been a great way to channel his energy, has helped him get in shape for Quidditch, has done wonders for his physique, and he’s come to enjoy the peace and quiet of the early morning stillness when the rest of the world is still asleep.  There’s something almost meditative about it, the rhythm of his feet on the ground and the breeze against his skin quieting his innate physical and mental hyperactivity.

Yet there are some mornings when James wishes he was someone who could sleep in – when he’s nursing a wicked hangover, for instance, or when he needs to catch up on sleep after a full moon.  Today, James wishes he could sleep in for an entirely different reason:

Lily Evans is in his bed.  

James blinks his eyes a few times as he awakens, trying to adjust to the soft light of dawn, his vision hazy without his glasses.  There’s a pleasant pressure against his chest; as he shifts he realizes the weight is Lily, her warm body curled up next to him with her head resting on his chest, her arm draped limply over his torso, plaited hair splayed out behind her.  His arm is wrapped loosely around her waist, his hand grazing the bare skin of her side where her silky pajama top has slightly ridden up.  She’s sleeping peacefully, judging by the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest.

He sucks in a sharp breath, willing himself to calm down.  Though James really can’t see her all that clearly without his glasses, his mind fills in the gaps – the dusting of freckles across her face, the soft curves of her body, the smooth planes of her pale skin, the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra – and the result is catastrophic.  Blood rushes south so quickly he feels dizzy, his heart thundering so strongly he’s surprised it hasn’t woken Lily up.  He knows he needs to get out of here quickly before she actually does wake up, lest she realize that she’s snuggling him – a friend no different than Mary, as she’d so plainly stated last night – while he’s trying (and failing, dismally) to fend off a raging hard-on. 

Inopportune erection aside, part of him desperately wants to stay, wishes he could just go back to sleep so he could stretch out this moment with her as long as possible.  How many times has he dreamed about falling asleep and waking up next to Lily Evans?  He’s not sure at what point in the night they started cuddling, or who might’ve initiated it, but it hardly matters now – all that matters is that she’s here, in his bed, in his arms, and nothing has ever felt so right. 

Still, he's worked so hard over the past year to shove down his feelings for her, to try to move on; but now, cuddling in a bloody bed with her and equipped with the newfound knowledge of what she looks like in a bikini, those latent feelings are making themselves known with a roaring ferocity he’s not sure he can handle. 

Fortunately, James has years of sneaking around the castle on his side; moving carefully, he manages to extricate himself from the bed, grabs his glasses from the nightstand and running clothes from the dresser, and quietly slips out of the bedroom without disturbing her slumber. 

* * *

Just after 8:00AM, Lily wakes up alone.

She stretches languidly under the soft duvet, blinking slowly as the morning light filters through the curtains.  Despite her initial trepidation about sharing a bed with the bloke she’s secretly fancied for months, she’d slept better than she had in a long time; her body feels warm and loose, like all the tension she’s been carrying unraveled overnight.  She inhales deeply; the scent of James – woodsy and cinnamon, a combination she’s been painfully aware of ever since Slughorn’s Amortentia demonstration last term – still lingers on the sheets, but the side of the bed he’d occupied is empty and cold.

She shouldn’t be surprised that he’s already gone – Lily knows from spending six years at school with him that he’s always been an early riser – but a twinge of disappointment pulls at her chest anyway.  Part of her had hoped that this morning might be different. 

That he might have stayed. 

It’s stupid, but she also can’t help but feel disappointed that nothing happened between them last night.  Though she knows they only shared a bed out of circumstance, though she knows that James doesn’t fancy her anymore, a small part of her had still foolishly hoped that given the conditions – two attractive, hormonal teenagers sharing a bed – that there might have been at least a chance that something would happen.

But it didn’t, and now he’s gone, and the window of opportunity has closed. 

Sighing heavily, Lily drags herself out of bed.  She pulls a jumper over her pajama top and pads downstairs to the kitchen, determined to shake off her lingering disappointment and focus on enjoying the holiday.  Mary is already perched at the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming mug of tea with both hands.

“Morning!” Mary chirps.

“Morning,” Lily mumbles.  She pours herself her own cup of tea.  “You’re awfully chipper – good night?”

“Grand,” replies Mary with a satisfied grin.  “I’m pleased to report that the rumors about Black being a good lay are true.”

Lily snorts into her mug.  “Glad it lived up to expectations.  Fair warning, though, James told me Sirius grades his hook-ups.”

“Sounds like Sirius, that,” Mary laughs, unbothered by this revelation.  “It was probably an E because we’d both been drinking, but there’s still plenty of time to bring it up to an O.  But that’s not what’s important here – I’m much more interested to hear how your night went…”

“I slept surprisingly well considering you abandoned me,” Lily replies tetchily, adding a contemptuous glare for good measure.

“Potter wore you out, did he?” asks Mary with a cheeky wink, looking far too smug for the early hour.  “Did he earn an O?”

Lily rolls her eyes, fighting a blush.  “We just slept, Mary.  Much less eventful than your night with Sirius.”

Mary’s smile falters.  “Wait – nothing happened between you and James?”

“Nope,” Lily replies, popping the P to conceal the disappointment that’s creeping back in. 

“Huh…I thought he’d make a move for sure...”

“Sorry to disappoint, but he was a perfect gentleman.  We’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at friends the way he was looking at you in your bikini yesterday,” Mary scoffs.  “You should’ve made a move if he wasn’t Gryffindor enough to do it.”

“I can’t make a move, Mary,” Lily hisses, keeping her voice low in case anyone else is waking up. 

“Counterpoint – have you seen him?”

“I’m not going to mess up our friendship just because he looks good without a shirt.”

Mary stares at her like she’s sprouted another head.  “Come off it, Lily.  You’re both fit, single, and literally sharing a bed all week – if you don’t take advantage of this you’re mental.” 

“Sharing a bed all week?  I thought it was just for last night!”

“You’re welcome.”

Lily opens her mouth for what is sure to be a withering retort, but the words die in her throat as James walks into the kitchen.

He’s shirtless – because of course he’s bloody shirtless – hair windswept, skin damp with sweat, muscles toned like he’s carved out of marble.  Her heart somersaults uncontrollably and she forces herself to avert her gaze before she starts gawking.

“Morning, Potter!” Mary greets cheerfully, clearly delighting in Lily’s discomfort like the sadist she is.  “Lily and I were just chatting – you wouldn’t mind if we swap roommates for the whole week, would you?”

James quirks an amused eyebrow, looking over his shoulder as he fills up a glass of water.  “Had fun with Sirius last night, did you?”

“Very much.”

He turns to Lily, brow furrowing with uncertainty.  “Is this okay with you?  Like I said last night, I’m not above cockblocking—”

“It’s fine,” Lily squeaks.  Mary gives her an infuriatingly knowing smirk as Lily clears her throat.  “I don’t mind, really.”

“Alright then,” James shrugs, though he still looks a little uneasy.  “I’m just gonna take a quick shower, then maybe we can figure out the plan for today?  Reckon the others should be up soon.”

They nod in agreement and James sets off toward the stairs as though his words haven’t just created a cascade of mental images that ignites heat between Lily’s legs – James, naked in the shower; James, touching himself in the shower while thinking about her; James, showering with her, his mouth hot against hers, hands gripping her hips, pressing her against the cool tiles as warm water pours down their bodies, wet skin sliding together as he fucks her against the wall…

“Merlin, Lily, if you don’t shag him this week I will,” whispers Mary with a wicked grin, eyes raking indulgently over his retreating, shirtless form. 

* * *

James is panicking. 

How the bloody hell is he supposed to share a bed with Lily Evans for an entire week?  He’s worked so hard to build a friendship with her and had long ago made peace with the fact that friendship was all they’d ever have.  How is he supposed to endure the agony of being so close to something he desperately wants and knows he will never have?  How is that supposed to help him move on?

In most situations, James Potter considers himself a man of action.  He prides himself on his Gryffindor courage.  But when it comes to Lily he often feels stupefied, flitting haphazardly between loose-lipped and tongue-tied, the painful weight of wanting more and the paralyzing fear that one wrong move will ruin everything twisting inside him into a confusing braid.  Though they’ve formed a genuine friendship over the past year it still feels tenuous, like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of catastrophe, his anxiety whispering insidiously in his ear that he’s just one fuck-up away from total calamity. 

Sharing a bed with Lily for a week, quite frankly, seems like a recipe for one spectacular, irreparable fuck-up.

Emerging from his shower (and much-needed wank) with a clearer head, James concludes that the only solution is to convince Sirius to come back to his room.  Resolved, he finds Sirius sitting out on the patio.

“So how was your night with Evans?” Sirius asks in way of greeting, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You’ve got to come back to my room,” James pleads in a panicked rush.  “Mary said she wants to swap for the whole week, but I can’t keep sharing a bed with Lily.”

Sirius scoffs.  “I thought you’d be thrilled to have Evans as your bedfellow.”

“Yeah, a little too thrilled,” James mumbles sheepishly, raking a hand through his damp hair.  “I can’t sleep next to her when my body is so…reactive around her.”

“Well, I figured she could help you out with that…”

“We’re just mates, Padfoot.  I can’t do this – it’ll be torture enough seeing her in a bloody bikini every day, I can’t handle sharing a bed with her on top of that.  I don’t want to cock up our friendship by spending a week sleeping next to her with an erection every night.  What if she sees it?  What if she feels it?  What if I have a wet dream?  Merlin, what if I moan her name in my sleep and she realizes I’m dreaming about her?  What if I—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Sirius interjects, “before your brain explodes.  I don’t think this is as dire as you’re making it out to be – you’ve got years’ worth of experience dealing with inconvenient boners around Evans, this seems right in your wheelhouse.”

“Yeah, but never when we’re in a bed together and she’s all, like, snuggled up against me.”  The grin that spreads across Sirius’s face can only be categorized as shit-eating; James rolls his eyes agitatedly.  “It wasn’t like that – we were asleep, it was unconscious.”

“I dunno, mate, I think she’s into you.”

“She’s not, Padfoot.  I’ve accepted that we’ll only ever be mates and I really don’t want to mess that up.”

Even as the words leave his mouth, he feels a sharp pang of something twist deep in his chest – denial that feels too much like hope.  He shoves it back down.

“Even if that’s true, friends can still fool around,” Sirius counters glibly.  “Look at me and Mary – we had a great night, by the way, thanks for asking.  An E so far, but we were a little drunk, so I’ll wait till the end of the week to submit my final mark.”

“It’s different.  You don’t have feelings for Mary.”

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius says with a long-suffering sigh, “you know I’d do anything for you, but I’m not going to be celibate for the week just because you’re too much of a coward to make a move.”

“I’m not asking you to be celibate!” James hisses.  “I’m just asking you to switch back rooms.  You and Mary can still do whatever you want, just sleep in my room instead!”

“And make you or Lily wait around until we’re done to be able to go to bed, and then sleep in a bed we’d just shagged in?  Seems bloody inconvenient and awkward for everyone.  I think we should keep it how it is, and I think you should see where things go with Evans.”

“The only place this can go is disaster.”

“The true disaster would be if you die a virgin when the opportunity to be with the girl of your dreams has been handed to you on a silver platter.” 

“You’re a real wanker, you know that?”

“What’s on?” Remus asks curiously as he and Peter step out onto the patio. 

“Prongs is spiraling because he and Evans are sharing a room this week,” Sirius explains flatly.

“I thought you two were rooming together?” says Peter, gesturing between James and Sirius, brow creased in confusion.

“We were supposed to,” James huffs histrionically, scowling at Sirius with as much contempt as he can muster, “but last night Padfoot roomed with Mary instead because apparently he’s decided getting his dick wet is more important than loyalty and brotherhood, so Lily had to sleep in my room, and now he and Mary want to keep it that way for the rest of the bloody week.”

“But isn’t that a good thing?” asks Peter, looking even more befuddled.  “Seems like a perfect opportunity to make your move with Lily.”

Sirius grins victoriously.  “Thank you, Wormy.  That’s exactly what I said.  I’m doing you a favor, mate.”

“I’m not making a move!”

“Well then you might as well turn your wand on yourself now and die like the man you’ll never become,” Sirius says solemnly.

“Sod off.  Please, Moony, help me here,” James entreats, turning to Remus, who has always been the most sensible of the lot.

“Er – honestly, I’m not sure I see what the problem is either,” replies Remus with an apologetic shrug.  “You and Lily are on good terms now, and I know you have feelings for her that go deeper than friendship, but I agree that this is a good opportunity for you two to get closer – even if nothing happens romantically, it still gives you more one-on-one time with her.”

James stares at his mates (former mates) in disbelief and betrayal.  “I can’t believe none of you understand why this is a problem.  I’ve worked really hard to get Lily to think I’m not a prick, and if she gets a glimpse of how much my prick likes having her in my bed, it’ll wreck everything.”

“I don’t think your friendship is that fragile,” Remus reasons.  “Is she okay with the arrangement?”

“She said she is…”

“So that’s your answer.  If she’s open to it, I think you should give it a try.  See where it takes you.”   

“You’ve all been profoundly unhelpful, thanks for nothing,” James grumbles.  He drags his hands down his face with a dramatic groan, then pushes away from the table and stalks back into the house.

Though he can’t really blame them, he supposes.  Sirius thinks romantic relationships are a sham and is never interested in anything beyond the physical; Remus is reluctant to get involved with anyone in any capacity because of his furry little problem; and Peter’s been stuck in a revolving door with Bertha for the better part of the past year.  How could any of them truly understand what it’s like to sink into the quicksand of unrequited love?

And blimey, James is sinking fast. 

* * *

There aren’t many days when Lily feels carefree – at least, not anymore. 

At school there’s the war, which has been seeping into the castle’s walls more and more with each passing year, taunting perniciously in her ear that she’ll never be good enough, that she’ll never belong.  At home there’s Petunia and her bitter, brittle resentment, and though her parents do their best, there’s something that hovers around Cokeworth like smog, polluting the air with reminders that she doesn’t belong in the muggle world either. 

But here at the beach, with her friends and the sun and the waves, Lily feels like she can finally let go, like she can pretend – at least for a little while – that none of her troubles exist.  That she can just be.  And if she’s going to live in a carefree fantasyland for a week, then perhaps she should take Mary’s advice and indulge in other fantasies as well…

How many hours has she spent daydreaming about James?  More than she’d ever confess aloud – ranging from the innocent schoolgirl daydreams of holding his hand in the corridors and wearing his jersey at Quidditch matches, all the way to daydreams that are decidedly not innocent, daydreams of him shoving her up against a wall and snogging her senseless or fucking her into a desk in an empty classroom.  She’d always known he was fit, had begrudgingly admitted it even before she fancied him, and had spent more time than she cared to admit staring at his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves during class.  But now she’s seen him shirtless; she’s been granted a full, unobstructed view of his tall, lithe, athletic body, which gives her imagination even more material to work with.  That, coupled with sharing a bed with him for the entire week, makes the temptation all the more powerful.

Would it be so bad to take a leap and see where she lands?

Yet her mind keeps returning to the fact that nothing had happened last night.  If James was still interested in her in any capacity, if he still felt any sort of lingering attraction to her, wouldn’t he have given some sort of indication?  The set up had been perfect – alone all night, sharing a bed together.  He was never shy about his feelings in the past – if he wanted to make a move, he would have…wouldn’t he? 

If she takes the first step, would she be able to handle the ruthless sting of rejection if he truly doesn’t want her?

As though the fates have decided to taunt her, James stands up and stretches, arms flexing and muscles rippling all over his torso.  They’ve elected to spend the day by the pool, and James starts explaining some sort of pool game involving a Quaffle, but English suddenly sounds like a foreign language when she’s face-to-face with the human equivalent of a Greek god. 

Some of the others stand up, ostensibly to join him for whatever game he’s been explaining.  Lily opts out given that she hasn’t listened to any of the rules and elects to admire him from the comfort of her pool chaise instead, eyes drawn to him like the moon pulls the tide. 

Lily really doesn’t consider herself a shallow person, and she truly does fancy him for reasons beyond his physical appearance, but Christ, being in his shirtless presence for such an extended period of time is making her distractingly horny.  James, however, seems completely, maddeningly oblivious to the effect he’s having on her, which is probably a good thing, but right now it only seems to highlight the vast ocean between her overwhelming attraction to him and his purely platonic feelings for her. 

Perhaps they’re simply destined to be two ships passing in the night – he fancied her too early; she fancied him too late.

* * *

Over the past six years, James has had the privilege of knowing (and falling in love with) several different versions of Lily – Swotty Lily, Annoyed Lily, Self-Righteous Lily, Clever Lily, Kind Lily – but Summer Lily is uncharted water. 

She’s more relaxed than she seems at school, less burdened, and as dusk settles in soft pinks and oranges over the horizon, James finds that he’s more at ease, too.  A pool day had been a good idea – the physical activity provided a much-needed outlet for his nervous energy, and his unavoidable erections felt much less calamitous when he could submerge his bottom half under water.  Dinner was filled with laughter and easy conversation amongst the eight of them, alcohol has flowed freely all evening, and, as they all sit around the bonfire on the beach, James feels like most of his earlier tension has dissipated.

The alcohol has helped, of course.  Everyone has reached different levels of inebriation: Mary and Marlene are huddled together, gossiping and giggling loudly; Sirius and Remus have spent the past ten minutes engaged in a slurred debate about the magical engineering that would be required to get Sirius’s new motorbike to fly; and Peter, the most intoxicated of the lot, is slouching against a sympathetic Dorcas, blearily bemoaning his latest breakup with Bertha.  Lily has been slowly nursing a bottle of mead, humming muggle tunes or offering wry commentary about their friends’ antics, and James sits beside her, casually nursing his own beverage and engaging in friendly banter while mentally composing sonnets about the way her hair glows in the firelight.

The fire crackles, casting long shadows over the sand as the sun sets over the sea.  Mary had brought along ingredients for some muggle treat she’d had when she visited the States last summer that James thinks she called a “Snore,” which can’t possibly be what it’s called, but he doesn’t really care because it’s bloody delicious and he’s already consumed four of them.  He’s certain the inevitable sugar high will eventually galvanize his nervous energy, which has been calmed by alcohol for the time being, but he can’t be arsed to care about that right now because Lily is sitting close to him and sometimes her knee brushes against his leg, igniting a heat inside him that has nothing to do with the fire.

He's starting to wonder if maybe those little knee brushes aren’t accidental, and if maybe Sirius is onto something.  He’d caught Lily staring at him rather unabashedly more than once while they were by the pool that afternoon.  She’d chosen to sit next to him during dinner, and now she’s sitting next to him again, even though there are other spaces available around the fire.  He’s still cautious about messing up their friendship, but with age and experience James isn’t as hapless around girls as he was at fifteen, and maybe it wouldn’t be a complete catastrophe if he tried test the waters with Lily…

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol steering the ship.

Regardless, James is feeling pretty decent, and he wants to ride that wave as long as he can.  He doesn’t necessarily expect that anything will happen between them, but this morning the thought of sharing a bed with Lily engendered the panic of inescapable shipwreck, and now he’s feeling like maybe he can see the shoreline.  He’s still adrift, perhaps, but he no longer feels like he’s drowning in a sea of his own shortcomings, and that is certainly an improvement. 

“I don’t know how you can eat like that and still be so fit,” Lily observes blithely as James starts roasting another big white fluffy confection over the fire, her voice low enough that only he can hear. 

James thinks she might be offering him a compass.

He doesn’t bother to suppress the smug smirk that stretches across his face.  “I’m not sure whether you meant that as an insult or a compliment, but I’m going to choose to believe that the prettiest girl at Hogwarts thinks I’m fit.”  The flattery tumbles from his mouth without permission from his brain, but he doesn’t even feel the urge to take it back.

In the never-ending internal tug-of-war between crippling self-doubt and reckless overconfidence, it appears that alcohol has temporarily given the latter the upper hand.

She blushes prettily in the warm blaze of the fire and opens her mouth to respond…

“TIME FOR SCARY STORIES!” Peter bellows, lurching to his feet. 

Lily lets out a slightly startled laugh, then sends James a coy shrug and holds up her bottle of mead.  “Let’s see where the night takes us.”

James grins and clinks his bottle to hers.  “Let’s see where the night goes.”

* * *

The prettiest girl at Hogwarts has been echoing in Lily’s head all night. 

It’s not even necessarily the words themselves that had such an impact (though they certainly make her heart flutter whenever she replays them), but more the way James had said them – offhand, like it was such a plain truth that she couldn’t even doubt that he meant it.

He’s been a bit flirtier all evening, but she’s been unable to decipher whether that’s simply because he’s had a bit to drink or whether it actually means something.  And now, as the waxing crescent moon sits high in the night sky, she and James are the only ones who remain by the fire; their friends had gradually wandered away over the course of the night, tired (Remus, Dorcas) or tipsy (Peter, Marlene) or tangled up in each other (Sirius, Mary).

For all the friendship they’ve formed over the past year, Lily realizes she’s actually spent very little time one-on-one with James; their time together has primarily been within the context of their larger group of friends or in classes.  The thought of being alone with him now thrills her as much as it terrifies her.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” he says, smiling softly.  “It’s nice having you here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Lily replies.  “This place is beautiful.”

“It’s my favorite place,” James says wistfully.  “My family come here every year.”

“Your parents didn’t want to come this time?”

“It’s a pretty full house with everyone already, and I think they wanted to give us some space now that we’re all of age.  We’ll probably come back as a family later in the summer, though.”

“That’s a nice tradition.  How long have you been coming here?”

“Since I was a baby, really.  My dad bought the house long before I was born, after Sleekeazy’s took off.  It needed a lot of work, but he wanted to give my mum a project, I think – they tried for a while and didn’t think they’d ever be able to have kids, so fixing up the house gave her something to pour that love into.”

“That’s a hell of a consolation prize.  And very sweet.”

“My dad’s big on grand gestures,” he replies with a lopsided grin.  “Obviously I came along eventually – big surprise for them, that.  But I guess sometimes things happen when you least expect it.”

Lily hums in agreement.  The prettiest girl at Hogwarts.

They’re silent for a moment, the night quiet other than the crackling fire and the waves crashing in the distance.  James tosses another log on the fire; sparks rise in a lazy arc toward the stars.  His knee brushes against hers again when he sits back down and she shivers despite the heat of the fire. 

“You’ve got a bit of chocolate there,” James murmurs, gesturing vaguely around the left side of her face.  The flickering light of the fire casts shadows over his features, dancing across the angles of his cheekbones and jaw. 

Her tongue darts out to try to lick it away; his breath hitches, eyes locked on the movement of her tongue.  She’s acutely aware of how close they’re sitting.

“Did I get it?” Lily breathes.

James shakes his head.  “There’s still a bit – right here,” he says hoarsely.  Tentatively, his hand reaches up and his calloused thumb softly presses against the corner of her mouth, gently wiping away the remaining chocolate. 

Suddenly, Lily feels way drunker than is warranted from the two bottles of mead she’s consumed, intoxicated by his scent, buzzed by the contact of his skin against hers.  She tilts her head unconsciously, leaning into his touch.  He exhales shakily and she can feel his breath against her cheek, hot and uneven.  His eyes flit down to her mouth again and linger there, his thumb lightly swiping across her bottom lip.  That’s when the realization hits her:

James wants to kiss her. 

Maybe it’s simply because he’s had a bit to drink, maybe it’s because he’s just a randy teenage boy who’d be chuffed to kiss any girl in front of him, maybe it’s because there’s an ember of desire for her that still burns somewhere inside of him, maybe it’s some combination of all three – the reason doesn’t matter, because her mundane yet thunderous epiphany bolsters her confidence enough to close the short distance between them and press her lips against his. 

There’s no hesitation on his end; he kisses her slowly, thoroughly, like they have all the time in the world.  Her eyes flutter closed as his mouth slants gently over hers.  He tastes faintly of beer and chocolate and salt air and something so indelibly James that it sends a heady rush of desire fluttering through her.  The fire smolders in front of them, casting heat across her bare legs, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth blooming inside her chest. 

His tongue glides along the seam of her lips and she allows it entrance, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue caresses hers.  The sound seems to embolden him; James pulls her closer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and her hands tangle in his hair, needing something to anchor her against the waves of want cresting inside her.  Tension builds like a current in the sea threatening to pull her into the undertow, and Lily lets it wash her away. 

Alarm bells go off distantly in her mind, but it’s easy to silence them when he kisses her like that. 

Because here – finally kissing James Potter – all of her worries and doubts feel an ocean away.

Notes:

I'm sure they're going to be totally normal about this the next day!

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