There had been a time, not all that long ago, when patience had not been James Potter's strong suit. Stubbornness? Of course. Determination? Oh, in spades. But honest-to-Godric patience? Not so much.
But then he'd heard the prophecy, and gone into hiding. He'd swapped universes, not just once but twice. And somewhere the skill of waiting, hoping, had taken root, even if it what he was waiting for seemed impossible. Because what other option did you have, otherwise?
Still, even the magnificently patient had to eat, and so it was that James was trudging back to his flat, a vaguely pathetic bag of groceries in hand. He really needed to get a handle on that job business, he thought. After all, there was only so long a man could live on peanut butter sandwiches…
James was playing with the idea of seeing if Marlene or Emmeline were feeling charitable, when something large, silver and painfully bright erupted from the wall, right there on the 10th floor. The bag thumped to the ground, and his wand was in his hand before his thoughts had had a chance to catch up. But then… a patronus. Not just any patronus - a doe patronus. Lithe and graceful and hauntingly familiar.
James' stuttering brain didn't quite manage to catch the message that was relayed, but that didn't matter, because there was only one patronus like that. And then he was following, feet barely touching the floor as he raced after the retreating glow, groceries left forgotten on the ground as he rounded a corner, bounded up some stairs and eventually, finally, flung himself through a closed door into another apartment.
"Lily?! Lils!" A frantic hazel gaze swept the room, finally landing on the redhead a short distance away. James' heart jumped so hard it hurt, and then he was moving again, crossing the floor in several long strides and sweeping her into a hug that lifted her off her feet. "Bloody hell, you scared the life out of me."
Lily laughed in pure delight, twining her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as she landed a kiss right on his mouth.
James was more than happy to return the kiss, one hand curling in her hair and the other around her waist, clenched in - it eventually dawned on him - quite a lot of swirling, ruched fabric. Reluctantly, because he'd really have quite happily carried on kissing his wife forever, James pulled away enough for Lily to slide back to earth. Cold air squeezed back in between them even as a pleasantly bemused expression wormed its way onto his face.
"What are you wearing that for?"
Lily rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, her arms still loosely clasped around his neck. “Honestly Prongs, you never bloody listen to my Patronus messages, do you? I told you, I’ve just come from our wedding.” She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, her smile flickering. “We’ve not much of a future to look forward to, or so I’ve been told.”
"Your Patronus messages are always so bloody lo-" he started to point out, but then the pad of Lily's thumb grazed over his cheek and something stirred in those green eyes that sent a shard of pain through him, like a knife driving straight into his gut. "You know?"
There was a part of James, selfishly, which felt relief. He'd already told Lily about their future once before, back in Cardiff, and he didn't think he had the strength to do it twice. As terrible as it was, as gut-wrenchingly, bone-shatteringly, spirit-breakingly terrible, they were both here now. And once Harry arrived, then…
Harry.
Their wedding.
James' eyes snapped instantly down to Lily's abdomen. As decorated and breathtaking as it was, it was also suspiciously flat, just as it had been moments before, pressed against him. In all James' memories of their wedding, Lily had had a noticeable bump under her dress. That rush of relief morphed suddenly, catching in his throat. "You were - Lils, you were pregnant at our wedding."
Lily’s eyebrows shot up, and she took a step backwards out of surprise. “I’m definitely not pregnant,” she said, and scrutinised James for signs of - what? He clearly wasn’t joking, and her Patronus message wouldn’t have reached him if he wasn’t James.
“Unless…” she trailed off, her mind trying to jigsaw piece together a myriad of different factors to make sense of what James was saying. Even considering James was from the future, it still didn’t make sense; she’d had her period just last week.
She focused back on James, looking uncertain for a fraction of a second before she remembered herself. Do I feel frantic? No, but I am a bit concerned. Her instinct was to make a cup of tea, but the cupboards were bare, and sitting down would be no luck; James always felt better when he was moving. “Transfigure me some better clothes and we’ll go for a walk and figure this out, how’s that?”
Something was wrong, and James couldn't quite work out what it was. But he felt it suddenly, deep in his gut where he knew, from far too many bad experien7ces, he tended to be right. James had to curl his fingers into fists to keep from pulling his own hair out.
Unless. "Unless what?"
But the offer of a walk was reassuring. James needed to move or he'd vibrate right through the floor. Lily knew that. And she was still so very much Lily. His Lily. It was hard to separate the relief still thrumming through him from the anxiety also threatening to peak in his system. Perhaps it was that heady mix which caused a wide, slightly wicked grin to bloom across his face.
"You're letting me pick the outfit?" James drew his wand from his back pocket, tilting his head as he examined her thoughtfully. "That's dangerous territory, Mrs Potter..."
Still, a swipe of his wand later and the wedding dress was now an unoffensive t-shirt and jeans. More than enough time for the rest later, when things were straightened out. Sliding his wand away, James quickly closed the space between them again, wrapping Lily in his arms and pressing his face briefly into her hair, lips ghosting across her hairline.
"Missed you."
It was on the tip of her tongue, to say that she happened to like dangerous territory when it was with him, but with Lils, you were pregnant at our wedding echoing in her mind, she didn’t want to start a flirtiation she wasn’t in the mind to finish. “Looks like you can be trusted</i>,” she said teasingly, as her wedding gown transformed around her. She didn’t bother to worry that he wouldn’t be able to transfigure it back, good as new; she’d seen him do much more complicated magic than this.
She moved towards him at the same second that he did her, her own arms going around his waist. “I missed you too, darling,” Lily said, inhaling quietly and brushing a kiss on to his jaw. “I was going to say that maybe I’m pregnant and don’t know it yet, but I suspect it’s more complicated than that.” She pulled away enough to look up at him, and lifted her hand up to touch his hair. “Let me just leave a note for Tuni, and then we can get going.”
James nodded silently, giving his thoughts the beat they needed to catch up. There was still that buzz of anxious energy, simmering just underneath his skin, at the tips of his nerves. He wished it had been longer since he’d felt like this, felt the sheer wrongness of something, but in all honesty he’d felt it just a couple of months ago, when a grown-up Harry had been breaking news to him in a flat in Wales. And just like then, slowly, something clicked.
“Tuni?” he asked. “Petunia?” Without thinking, James stepped sharply back, leaving Lily’s hand hanging as his own hand flew up in its place, sweeping his hair back. Something sharp and cold flashed, unpleasantly, behind his glasses. “Why – she’s here?!”
Lily’s eyebrows hiked up her forehead, her hands naturally moving to her hips as disapproval warred with concern at such a volatile reaction. “She appeared when I did, just today,” she said, her voice calm but unimpressed. “This is her apartment.”
"Lily." James stared at his wife across the few feet that now separated them, disbelieving. There it was, the puzzle piece which refused to lock into place. As far as he knew - and he liked to think he had a good idea - Lily hadn't spoken to her sister in months, bar a Christmas card which had made her cry, with no message apart from a scrawled signature. But that was before everything happened. Before Halloween, before Harry. James glanced around, half expecting the fair-haired figure to be darkening a doorway.
Of course, how could she even know?
"Do you know what she did to him?" He hissed, his voice suddenly dropping dangerously low. "I saw him, in the place I was in before. They made our son sleep in a cupboard." James' voice strained a little on the final word, his grip tightening on the wand he didn't remember pulling.
Lily held up a hand. “James, I’m going to need you to slow down,” she said, giving a pointed look to the wand in his hand before shifting her eyes back to his own. “I realise you’re incredibly upset - with good reason, by the sounds of it, though I can’t for the life of me imagine my sister doing anything of the sort - but we’re not fifteen anymore. We can’t have arguments with our wands out.”
If this was Sirius in a temper, Lily absolutely wouldn’t take her eyes off him until she had confirmation he’d calmed down, but this was James, so Lily didn’t hesitate in leaning over to write a note on the pad by the phone. Despite how calm she was being, there was a quickness to her heartbeat; a new possibility was uncurling in the darkest corners of her mind and she did not care for it. She straightened back up and looked over at James, her breath hitching. A cupboard. Lily held her hand out, willing for James to take it.
James glared defiantly for a moment, shoulders pulled desperately tight under his shirt, but Lily stared evenly back and, with no small measure of reluctant frustration, he slid his wand back into his pocket. Suddenly empty fingers flexed restlessly as he watched his wife pen a note, and it took James a moment to realise he was scanning her, looking her up and down for some hint that this was anyone but the woman he knew from home. Lily looked the same, moved the same, spoke the same…
She straightened up before he had landed on an answer, holding out a hand as James’ mind still scrambled to catch up with whatever his gut was screaming. After a beat of hesitation, he took it and allowed himself to be pulled towards the door.