Jily oneshots

Something Good

by yellowbright

Thursday

She woke slowly, hardly unusual for her: throughout her childhood and adolescence, getting her up and out of bed in any decent amount of time had always been, in her mother's words, "a daily battle with no winners, only losers". Why should it have changed now, at the tender age of nineteen?

At home, she slept with the thickest blackout curtains available, on a mattress that was like dozing on a cloud. When Alice, Mary and Marlene had first suggested going on a camping holiday, she'd balked at the idea. She couldn't think of many things worse than sleeping on the ground, with only a thin layer of canvas separating you from the outside world. And in the British weather? She could stay at home and be disappointed by the rain for free, in comfort, thanks very much.

But this…this wasn't so bad. Although not her normal level of pitch-dark – in fact, she knew that if she opened her eyes, she would be met with the pale blue walls of their tent, lit up like a Christmas tree – it was still warm, and cosy, and safe. No one outside was making too much noise yet, just a bit of distant chatter, a low buzz of sound that was more reassuring than annoying. And apparently, Marlene was feeling a bit friendly, because her friend's arm was draped comfortably around her waist.

She might have laid there a while longer, just soaking up the relative peace before the madness of the day to come, if it hadn't been for the sound of the zip at the tent entrance, and then a very loud, and very unfamiliar voice.

"Oi oi, Prongs, my apologies – didn't realise you had company!"

She opened her eyes and was greeted with a distinctly green tent wall – and quickly sat up, clutching a stranger's sleeping bag close to her chest in a bid to preserve her dignity. "Oh my god!"

The person whose arm had been draped over her – who was decidedly not Marlene, oh shit – sat up just as quickly, a bleary-eyed face beneath a mess of dark hair, squinting myopically between her and the bloke, maniacal and far too self-satisfied, grinning at them from the zip door. "Uh? What's–"

"Oh my god, I got into the wrong tent," she blurted, looking frantically between the two men. "Fucking hell, I didn't realise–"

Her sleeping companion rammed a pair of glasses onto his face, and, now able to fully take her in, gaped just slightly. "Christ, I'm sorry – I – I must've been out cold…"

"You did drink a lot of snakebite and black last night, Prongs," the other boy noted with some glee. "Although, so out of it you didn't notice yourself wrapped round some beautiful redhead?" He leaned out of the tent, face briefly disappeared, and shouted, "Lads, you are not going to believe this!"

A tired, weary voice filtered back through. "Sirius," it said, "might you want to, I dunno, shut the fuck up while we try to sleep?"

"Someone's testy," the boy, apparently called Sirius, reappeared, shaking his head with a smirk. "Can't hold his cider."

"Pads," the boy next to her said, his voice low and urgent-sounding. "Is now the time for this? I think, um–" He looked over at her, and cringed. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Lily," she replied, and, for some reason, held out her hand to shake.

Sirius snorted with laughter, but her sleepmate smiled and took her hand in his. He had a firm grip. And lovely eyes. Not that she was paying attention to that. "James," he told her. "And, um, that's Sirius." He dropped her hand and looked back at his friend. "Anyway, I think Lily probably would like some help finding her own tent, rather than hanging around in here with two semi-clothed strange men."