Jily oneshots

Glowing

by natalie.ana

The story of Lily Evans and the story of James Potter were quite different. James Potter was, by all means, superior, in wealth and in blood, if you believed in that sort of thing. Lily Evans was, by all means, inferior, in wealth and in blood, if you believed in that sort of thing. Lucky for them, neither James nor Lily believed in that sort of thing and in a world that was being divided by those very constraints, it was a pretty important thing to agree upon. You see, James Potter and Lily Evans hardly agreed on anything, ever but for this, the biggest battle of their lives, they agreed. The only problem was, neither was aware of the other. At least not like that. They had their own battles to fight.

Lily Evans was seventeen years old, an orphan and, precariously, homeless.

James Potter was seventeen years old, caring for his ailing parents and planned to do nothing extraordinary for the summer ahead.

This is the story of Lily Evans and the story of James Potter and how it became to be the story of James and Lily Potter, the couple who saved the world and it all began in the summer of '77.

-

She would not cry. She refused.

Sitting on her trunk outside of the hotel where her sister had just left with her new husband, Lily Evans refused to cry.

She couldn't pin point the moment her life had decided to turn to crap. Maybe at the end of fifth year when her supposed best mate decided to call her the worst slur someone like Lily could be called. Or maybe it was when she started school in sixth year and realised that whilst a lot of people were happy to chat to Lily, she didn't really have friends. Or maybe it was six months ago when she was pulled out of Charms by Professor McGonagall who told her, that Mr and Mrs Evans had perished in a house fire that morning. Or maybe it was the realisation that Petunia had no reason to stay an Evans anymore. She had her perfect fiancé, her perfect life where there was no room for a witch or even for her own sister.

Lily closed her eyes, the tears truly threatening to drop. No, she couldn't pin point the exact moment, all she knew was that she had nowhere to go, nowhere to stay but she had to go somewhere. She couldn't stay here where the bell boy glanced at the peculiar girl with thick red hair twisted into a particularly uncomfortable style in a pale blue dress sitting on a trunk that had the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry crest stitched into it.

She needed somewhere to go and there was only one place she could think of. She trudged, lugging her trunk, to a quiet street where she stuck her wand out. A bus appeared a moment later.

"To The Leaky Cauldron, please."

-

He would not cry. He refused.

Sitting on the couch in the drawing room, away from the bedroom where he could hear his mother's distressed cries where the healer tried to calm her, James Potter refused to cry.

It wasn't like he hadn't known this was coming. His parents had always been older than the other parents, having almost twenty years over his best mate's parents (as shitty as they were). He'd always known but he never expected this. He never expected that there would be days when his mother would become distressed at the sight of him because she didn't know who he was. Nor did he expect to hear his father rattle on about his Hogwarts days to James as though James was his best mate rather than his son. And there were things, things a child shouldn't know about their parents and Fleamont Potter managed to cross that line about four times a day. He never expected that he'd have to hire, not one but two, full-time healers to help care for them (though only one stayed over night). No, these were not the things James had expected and yet here he was in his room, refusing to let the tears fall.