The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

Verklempt

James raveled his new maroon and gold Gryffindor scarf, which Dora had knitted him for Christmas, around Lily's neck with one hand, going in two loops around. "There we are," he said, adjusting it so her nose was tucked in and the ends hung nicely over her shoulders. "Better?" he asked.

Lily had been complaining about the cold. She held the scarf to her nose and breathed deeply of James Potter's distinctly boyish scent. The scarf was deliciously warm from his body heat. "Much better," she answered, her eyes twinkling over the hem.

James grinned, "Excellent. Then let's get back to it, shall we?" Under his arm he held an old beat up quaffle, which he had dug out of a closet at the Lupin house, something he and Sirius had knicked long ago.

Lily nodded, and then very quickly ducked forward, knocking the quaffle from his grasp, grabbing it up, and leaping to the sky on her broomstick ahead of him.

"Why you --" James spluttered in surprise and he hopped onto his broom and kicked off with twice the agility that Lily had ever had at quidditch. He was in the sky before she'd finished climbing to altitude, and she shrieked as he caught up, cutting her off and causing her to drop the quaffle as he expertly barrel-rolled below, arm outstretched to grasp it mid-air, before shooting down the snow-covered field.

Lily was laughing loudly as James came up at the far end, just past the line they'd designated as the goal zone, and he held up his arms, letting the quaffle fall to the ground below, shouting, "WOOOO!! And the crowd goes WIIIIILD! RAaaAAaaah!" James cupped his mouth and imitated the adoring, albeit imaginary, crowd. "POTTER HAS JUST WON THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!" Then he waved to the trees, "Thank you, thank you," he announced, pretending at gushing as Lily finally flew over, rolling her eyes, "No autographs please... Thank you..."

"You barmy idiot," Lily laughed. She flew down and picked the quaffle up off the ground and soared back up to level with him, throwing it hard and fast at him as though to score a goal, and James reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, knocking the quaffle off into the trees with a solid spinning kick.

"Evans tries, but it's no use -- Potter's just too bloody good!" James cried.

Lily snorted, "Potter can go get the damned ball himself, then, seeing as he's sent it off into the forest," she pointed.

James laughed and dropped down to the ground. "Ah well, I guess that's fair."

Lily landed beside him in the snow, catching his hand before he could go too far and squeezed.

"What happened to me going and getting the damned ball myself?"

"I missed you."

"That quickly?" James teased, and he grinned at her, kissing her pink nose that had popped out from under his scarf again. "I must be really loveable if you missed me in the thirty seconds I'd been on the ground before you came after me."

Lily laughed, "Don't let your head swell up about it, Potter."

"Addicted to me, you are," he accused.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Not denying it, I see. Once upon a time you would've called me a toerag and pretended to gag or some rubbish for that comment." He looked at her with a smirk.

"Mmm, gods, back when I had half a brain!" she said.

They stepped into the woods, the snow thinning as they got under the tree cover, and James held aside branches for her to pass by through the brush, stepping over fallen trunks. They were some ways in before they found the quaffle and when they looked back, the Lupin house wasn't even visible through the cover of the branches.