Jily oneshots

Checking In

by genevieveyoung on fanfiction.net

She shivers as the door swings closed, a whoosh of cool October air chilling her forearms. She is nearly certain it is colder inside the building than outside.

Lily sighs shifting on her heels. The balls of her feet are killing her, as she's been standing in her heels - a good idea before she left - for the better part of two hours. She keeps having to remind herself why she is here. You need the cash. Student loans don't pay themselves off.

The door opens again, another gust sweeping over her. She shivers, but plasters on her fake smile as a man in a blue suit and brown loafers walks up to her, his fingers flying furiously over the screen of his smartphone. "Good evening, sir," she says pleasantly. "Are you with the Po-"

"Zimmerman. Z-I-M-M-E-R-M-A-N. Arnold. I should be on there," the man says dismissively, his eyes never leaving his phone. He couldn't have been more than five years older than her.

Lily rolls her eyes internally as she types the letters into the iPad in her hand. "You're all set sit," she says. "You may proceed to the seventeenth floor." Without so much as a word of thanks, the man turns and walks away, off to drop his stuff off at the coat check. Arsehole number 79 of 1045. Only 966 left to go.

Lily glances over to where Remus is standing by coat check. He is currently putting a tag on 79's duster. He glances up as he felt her gaze on him. She rubs at her arms and frowns at him, mouthing, "I'm freezing." He gives her a sympathetic smile, and gestures to the curtained off area where the coats are being kept, his way of asking if she wants her coat. She shakes her head. She has a feeling Anita Abbott, the woman in charge, would not approve. The staff are to be in all black, and her navy coat would just not do.

She shifts on her feet again, sighing heavily. What she wouldn't give to sit down for five minutes. She is in the middle of imagining the sweet relief, when the doors open, and a large group of people march in. She spends the next few minutes checking people's names on her iPad. It seems like an endless storm of business formal dressed people, some polite, but most dismissive and rude. She nearly cheers in relief when the rush dies down and Alice walks out from the elevator bank.

"How's it going?" Alice asks, running her fingers over her pixie cut. She has recently cut her hair, and Lily notices the girl often runs her fingers over the hair, as if searching for the rest of it.

"I am fer-reezing!" Lily says, hopping from foot to foot. "And my feet are killing me." She points to her toes, pouting.

Alice fake pouts back. "I told you not to wear those heels. You always complain when you wear them."

Lily frowns down at the pointy toed pink pumps she's worn. "I thought we'd be sitting down more. We did last time." She sighs again, twirling a piece of hair that has come loose from her bun around her finger. "How's it going upstairs?"

Alice is a server, carrying hors d'oeuvres around for the guests to pick at. "They're all so ungrateful," she says, rubbing her arms. "And the amount of creepy men who've hit on me has reached an all time high."

"Ugh, tell me about it. Seems like Remus is the only one with a decent job. Plus he gets tips." Both girls turn to glare at the brown haired boy, who is looking down at his phone. He glances up and smirks when he notices their dirty looks.

"I gotta go," Alice says, glancing at her watch. "I told Anita I was going to the bathroom, and I know she's timing me, but I needed to take a break and get some cool air. It's stifling up there." Alice fiddles with her tie a little, loosening the fabric.

"I sincerely envy you," Lily groans. "Look at my arms!" She holds out her pale arms, showing off her goosebumps.

Alice giggles, and waves goodbye, heading back to the elevator bank. Lily sighs, turning her attention back to the doors. Her knees are starting to ache. God, I'm an old lady. She starts doing some pliés, ignoring Remus as he mocks her. It feels good on her knees. She has just shifted to fifth position, in the middle of a grande plié, when the door opens yet again. She hurries to straighten out, losing her balance as one of her ankles gives out on her. A warm, callused hand reaches out, wrapping around her elbow, and keeping her upright. "Thank you," she says, looking up at her rescuer and doing a double take.