The Marauders Year Five Part 2 #Wattys2017

A Cozy Little Scene

A Cozy Little Scene

Nutmeg... citrus... cinnamon... star anise...

Lily shifted, the weight of James Potter's arm over her, holding her close, his elbow folded around her elbow, their fingers twined together, his hand held tight in hers, clutched to her chest, his knees folded to hers, his chest to her back, his cheek against her head as he curled about her... the big spoon...

God. That smell.

That touch.

She was dizzy. She was intoxicated by the feeling of him and the sheer weight of his body leaning against hers, all heavy and wonderful and his lips pressed to her temple, soft and warm...

This is where I want to be for the rest of my life.

This is where I belong.

Right here. In James Potter's arms.

Her eyes popped open.

Sunlight streamed through wide windows; early afternoon sun, golden, with dust motes dancing in it, warm and delicious and pooling over them like a spot light. They were in the library, on the floor, there were James's glasses beside her, and the Marauder's Map, and a leather bound copy of Beedle the Bard, and a nearly empty Firewhiskey bottle, dripping the last of it's contents onto the carpet...

Lily sat up, James's arm falling away from her.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Oh no. No. Oh no." She looked around.

"Evans..." James murmured, clearly still coming down off the drink, his eyes closed, lips puffy from kissing, face still flushed from the whiskey...

He's beautiful. She couldn't help but think it. His eyelashes were so long... so thick... and his hair fell over his forehead in soft wavy strands... shaggy and messy and incredibly perfect... Lily reached over and ran her palm over his cheek, feeling the scruff of the hair on his chin, along his jawline... her thumb ran over the plumpness of his lower lip... and he hummed quietly, bringing his hand up to hold her hand there and he kissed her thumb softly.

"Potter..." she whispered. "Wake up."

"Not yet, Sirius," James murmured.

She hesitated. "James. Wake up."

"Best dream ever, please..." he whispered.

Lily leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You aren't dreaming; wake up."

His eyes fluttered hesitantly... his eyes rolling up to meet hers as his eyelids parted, her thumb still on his lips, her hand still cupping his cheek, his legs twisted over hers. He blinked rapidly up at the blurry shape of her, at the smear of ginger before him, the bright light streaming around her, making her glow, making the blurriness of her surreal, like a strange watercolour...

"Evans?" he asked.

Lily's thumb left his lip and she turned, picking up the glasses from the floor and slid them onto his face gently. He closed his eyes as the frames slid past his temples and over his ears, and he blinked, adjusting his vision to the sudden clarity, and there she was... perhaps even more unbelievable and surreal in focus than she'd been blurry. He stared up at her, his mouth still open, a gape, his eyes searching her face, waiting for the hallucination to end...

"You're -- here," he said thickly. "You're -- we're -- I'm here. You're here. We're -- we."

"Basically," Lily said.