lily & james sr WHO: James Potter Sr. and Lily Potter Sr. WHAT: Being husband and wife. WHERE: Outside on a hammock. WHEN: Considerably backdated to before the storm. RATING: PG STATUS: Considerable amount done!
With all the changes, Lily was eternally grateful that she and James weren't worlds apart. Oh, he needed some clarification on that night, but, otherwise, they pretty much remembered all the same things which was a huge plus around their new neck of the woods. For the most part, he was still her brilliant man-child and for that Lily was glad. She simply wished they could live together, but she wasn't sure she was ready to tempt fate in breaking the rules yet. Of course, being James' wife, she was bound to slip up eventually, but for the first few days, they could at least pretend not to be trouble-making Lily and James Potter. Still, finding time alone was nearly impossible. How were they supposed to talk if everywhere they went, there was some new shocked face, demanding answers? Even those darn journals were troublesome; everyone could read what one wrote!
It took some effort, but Lily managed to find a quiet spot with a hammock (she wondered if Alby made that particular one) and beckoned to James via her journal. She slid into the cloth, resting her eyes while she waited on the husband she loved with all her heart.
Without magic, James couldn't help feeling as though he was playing with only half a deck. It was a lot easier to transfigure palm leaves into things like flowers to tuck into Lily's hair when he could actually... transfigure things. James, in his own right, was something of a celebrated sap. He liked romance and grand gestures and all that. He couldn't help it; his father had doted on his mother, and it was an example that stuck. It was just how one was supposed to treat ladies. A whole slew of behaviour had been off limits in front of his mother - swearing, smoking, telling particularly off-colour jokes, being drunk, and owning up to too much mischief. They were rules James had never had trouble living by, because that's just what men did.
Not that James really treated Lily with the same sort of... delicacy. Oh, he certainly took a bit extra care, but Lily wasn't the wilting flower sort. Not that his mother had been. Not that there was anything wrong with the way his mother was had been. Among women in General, Lily just happened to be a bit unique. Which only made sense. And James loved her for it.
She was easy enough to find on the beach, swaying in her hammock. Lily had a way of looking otherworldly when she slept- pale skin and fiery hair. All of James's favourite things were red. Gryffindor red, and full-blood-moon red when he stopped being James and stopped having to think and could just run with his friends, and candy-apple red, and signs that said 'Danger' and 'Do Not Enter,' and love, and lust, and her hair. Leaning over, he kissed at where her ear joined her neck.
"'It is so quite new a thing,'" he murmured softly against her skin. "'Kiss,'" and he paused again, to kiss her neck. "'I like kissing this,'" and a kiss drop a kiss on her jaw, "'and that,'" and another on her cheek, "'of you.'" And he smiled a smile that was nearly a grin, except for the way one side skirted up higher into a smirk. "Budge over, Potter."
Lily was half-sleeping when she felt the warm caresses and heard the soft whispers. She smiled, her head tilting to the side to take in every kiss. "Hmmm, I don't know," she muttered, "I was mighty comfortable here..." Her eyes fluttered open and when her gazed landed on James, her expression turned even calmer. Things were uncertain, but James' love wasn't. She believed in him with her whole heart and it felt right having him right there with her despite the insane happenings around them. "You won't break it with your fat bum, will you?" She teased.
Most of James's favourite things were red, but a couple of them were green - and her eyes usually topped the list. The future that was mapped out for them seemed pleasantly far away. Immaterial, even. And like this, he could pretend that they didn't have less than a year left. Everywhere children and grandchild were turning up-- and turning up close to their ages, even surpassing in some cases; and it was a comforting thought that they still had the whole rest of their lives ahead of them. That didn't quite change the fact that he and Lily were practically at the end of theirs.
But, no. They had to be here for a reason. There had to be a way to fix things, to stop things from happening as scripted. Maybe. He just had to figure it out. For the moment, however, he pushed those thoughts from his mind; he always planned better and smarter when he'd properly unwound himself first.
"Only one way to find out," he supposed, clamoring in against her, atop her, whatever. Adjusting one's self in a hammock was practically impossible, but he made a gallant go of it. After a couple of wobbles he managed to tuck himself in next to her, his head resting on her shoulder, one knee settled atop her legs. Smoothing a hand across the flat of her stomach, it was still a bit hard to believe that Harry had managed to fit in there. Not that he'd been full-sized at the time. It was still just a bit... surreal. "How're you doing, with everything?" he asked, his tone a bit more somber, but no less light.
Cuddled into her husband, Lily felt safe from the rest of the world. It suddenly didn't matter if a Weasley didn't like her or if she was long dead in some other world. Feeling James...well, it made her feel very much alive. She let his question sit for a few minutes, merely rubbing his arm and nuzzling his neck. Finally, she sighed. "Okay, I suppose. I mean...Harry said some things. And then everything with Sirius and Remus now..." She closed her eyes, trying to forget the bad moments and focus on the good ones like meeting Alby and Lily.
"Remus and Sirius... they need some sorting out," James agreed. He knew that it was carry-over from the war. Partly, anyway. He wouldn't mind the two of them pretending like there wasn't a problem if only they were better at it. But now, as far as James was concerned, it had gone on long enough, and it was his responsibility to do something. They'd had plenty of time to sort it out for themselves, and who cared if Remus was 'technically' loads older now, James would have been shirking his friendly duties if he let the two of them go on being ridiculous for much longer. At least, he told himself, this time couldn't possibly be so bad as the last time there was a Real Problem.
"But what'd Harry say?" he asked. He couldn't quite sort out what would have been upsetting. It wasn't as if Harry had known either of them long enough to muster any parental animosity-- but that, he reckoned, was unsettling enough on its own.
Lily's hand made its way to James, trying to lace fingers. "Maybe you should speak to him about it," she mused. "I don't know if I ought to spread it. He knows you are here. So does Alby."
The languid intertwine of his fingers with Lily's hesitated for just a moment; he didn't think Lily's words boded particularly well. Maybe she didn't mean it. Probably didn't. Given James's little issue with curiosity (after all, there were no adages about stags and curiosity), surely she wouldn't have brought it up if she didn't want to talk about it. It was one of the things that both bemused James and was accepted by him: people so often seemed to need permission to go ahead and do what they wanted to do anyway. "Is it bad?" he asked, a bit of wariness creeping into his voice, their hands properly joined at last. "Telling me isn't 'spreading it around'- you're supposed to tell me stuff."
"Oh, am I?" She teased, allowing herself the moment to muss his hair. It was so much like their son's and what endeared her so. It was like James would always be the boy she fell in love with, no matter how old he got. "Promise me you'll never lose your hair, darling." She settled back against him, enjoying the warmth of his breath against her ear. "It's not good," she said, returning to the more somber subject again. "Our little boy, James. Our little boy." She swallowed hard.
"Not possible," he assured her, with regard to his hair, lulled into a reflexive sort mindless happiness as she played with his hair-- a habit he was perfectly content to blame on osmosis via Padfoot. Honestly, James Potter without hair? Had to be impossible. And, of course, if he died in a few months anyway, well... he'd still have great hair. It was the little consolations, sometimes, that permitted James to roll his eyes over ridiculous everything was. Although he remained physically rather relaxed, her change of tone had James's focus sharpening, his ears practically perking up. When it sounded as though her voice was getting close to breaking, James sort of pushed himself up so that he could look at her properly, the hand draped across her smoothing around the dip over her waist, burrowing under her just a bit to keep a more solid hold of her. "What?" he asked, not wanting to volunteer any options. "What is it?"
"War and hardship...he faced so much as a young boy." She felt grateful that James wound his arm so protectively around her. Oh, there were times when she told him she was quite fine and capable of taking care of herself, but it still felt good to have a husband who made it possible to let down her hair once in awhile. She'd never say it aloud, of course, but she let her smile speak what her pride couldn't. "He didn't have us, James." She sniffled again, trying desperately not to break down.