Hello, everyone! I'm back for now, I guess. Seeing as my other stories haven't been touched in over a year, it's safe to say they're on hold. But here I am with a new Jily story!

Basically, it'll just be oneshots about James and Lily and sometimes the Marauders. Send me prompts, please! Enjoy!


meltdown

Soaked to the bones and feeling half-dead, James Potter was expecting a nice, long bath when he got to the Heads' dorm, and perhaps, if he was lucky, his lovely girlfriend would be waiting for him inside.

He ended up achieving both of his desires, yes, but not quite in the context of which he was hoping.

"Hobbling Hornets," he said, and the door, hearing the password Lily had so cleverly thought of, swung open for him.

His muddy feet left tracks, and his Quidditch robes were still dripping from practice. His whole team had decided him raging mad for making them play in the storm, but James, ever the dedicated captain, insisted they prepare for their match with Slytherin in a few weeks.

"Lily!" he called her name as he entered their shared space. She was always there to greet him after practice. "Lils?"

No response. He took off his shoes and robes and flung them carelessly on the sofa, leaving him in a Gryffindor sweater and sweatpants. He walked to his room, peeking his head in, surveying the vicinity for his ginger. She was nowhere to be found.

He moved on to her room. "Lily? Lils, are you—"

He lost his voice, suddenly, unable to form a single coherent thought at the sight of his girlfriend. His Lily, shaking violently with sobs that racked the entirety of her slender frame, curled up on the floor next to her bed. He couldn't see her face, but he knew it would be streaked with tears. Her head was between her knees, her arms wrapped around her shins. It took James less than two seconds to process all of this, and within that time, he'd crossed the floor and kneeled down next to her. Tentatively, so as not to startle her, he wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders. At his touch, she dissolved into another fit of tears, but leaned into him so her head was cradled against his chest. James reached over her and gathered her feet up onto his lap; there was no part of Lily that touched the floor now.

James knew he was cold and probably shivering and his hair was still very, very much dripping wet, but he tried his best to comfort Lily anyway. Still sitting, he snatched a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around the broken girl in his arms.

"Lily," he whispered, nudging his nose into her hair. "Lils, what is it?"

She didn't answer him, though. Just kept crying and making these awful, gut-wrenching sobs that made James' heart twist and wish he could just hold her forever, and take away all her burdens. He rested his cheek on top of her head. He wouldn't push her to talk. No, when Lily was ready, she'd talk to him. So all he said was, "I love you."

And the way he said it, so sad and sweet and caring and concerned and James made Lily want to cry some more, but for different reasons than the ones she was crying over already. She sniffled a little bit, and wiped away the stray tears making way down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at James. Her green eyes were huge and watery and so, so sad. In this moment, seventeen year old Lily Evans looked younger and more vulnerable than she ever had before.

"James," she finally murmured. "I'm sorry."

James didn't even know what she could possibly be apologizing for. He held her tightly all of a sudden, his arms tensing around her.

"Don't," he said, soft but stern. "Don't apologize to me, Lils. You've done nothing wrong, alright? Nothing. Just—just, when you're ready, you can talk. If you want."

The love in his voice made Lily's stomach flip-flop. Merlin, she would never truly deserve this boy. He would capture the moon and every bloody star in the sky for her, and here she was, sobbing on the bloody floor and not communicating with him.

She took a deep breath. She'd need strength to get this all out, finish her train of thought without crumbling.

"James, I—" she started. Her voice cracked terribly, and she tried again. "It's him. You-Know-Who. He…he's taking on towns just outside of London, you know, and m-my mum's best friend. She lives where the Death Eaters were yesterday." Where Snape was yesterday, she didn't say.

James began tracing lines up and down her arms, afraid of where her story was headed.

"They were found dead this morning," Lily croaked out. Her eyes were glassy and trained on nothing in particular, vacantly staring at the wall. She had cried herself out, and now she was empty.

"The whole lot of them, dead. She had a husband and four children! Merlin's sake, they weren't even wizards. Muggles. They were completely ordinary muggles, and he had them killed. And you know what? I'd bet Snape was there. He knows we've known lots of people in that village since childhood. He knows!" Her last word was a strangled cry, and she buried her face in James' chest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then Lily let out a bark of a laugh, harsh and bitter.

"It's in all the muggle newspapers, too. All the reporters are saying it was armed robbery. They died, and now people don't even know the real reason why! Armed robbery my arse."

"Lils," James said. "I'm so, so sorry."

He knew he was pathetic, but what can you say to someone who's childhood friends just died? Probably killed by her ex-best friend, nonetheless.

But Lily just gripped his sweater and nuzzled his neck, silently thanking him. He didn't even have to say anything; just the fact that he was here, alive and breathing and loving her, was plenty enough to her.

"I…I can't help thinking," Lily mumbled cautiously, aware of what her confession might provoke in James, "that maybe…my parents are next." James' arms tightened around her. Before he could protest against her thoughts, however, she rushed through her next words.

"Or that I am."

Her last words made James feel dizzy and nauseous. He pushed back from her, moved her half-off his lap. He put one hand on each side of her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Lily," he said. His eyes were blazing. "Don't even say that. Just—just don't. You are not next. In fact, you're not on the list at all, you hear me? You're going to be safe and sound." Neither of them were sure if his words were more to comfort himself or her. Either way, he meant what he was saying. As long as he was around, not a single person would ever harm his Lily.

"I know you'd like to think that, James. I would too. But rationally speaking? Half of You-Know-Who's followers attend Hogwarts! I'm a muggleborn. And for that, I'm a living target."

James looked strained, and he moved his hands from her face to her shoulders, pulling her slightly towards him.

"No. You. Are. Not."

"Yes, I am."

"Lily!" he burst out. "Stop saying things like that. Please. You won't be next, okay? No, don't ask me how I know that. I just do."

She stared at him, in awe of how, in times like these, he was still the optimist. Looking for the bright side of things, clinging to any sliver of hope he could find. And now, Lily was that hope. He bloody hell wasn't letting go, stubborn prat he was.

"Thank you. I love you, James," the redhead finally said. She started to stand up, and he followed, grabbing her wrists and tugging her forward into a hug. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet, and brushed his thumbs against her tear-stained cheeks.

"I love you too."

He took her hand and began leading her back to the sitting area.

"But James?" she spoke from behind him. He turned around to face her. "You kind of…well, it looks like you could kind of use a bath."

She stroked her finger under his ear and it came back smudged with dirt from the Quidditch Pitch. Pointedly eyeing the muddy footprints on the carpet, she raised her eyebrows at him.

He grinned at her. "You know, it's funny," he said, his voice laced with mischief and his hands wandering to her waist. "It's quite a coincidence that I should come here, thinking how lovely a bath would be, and then run into the very person I'd like to take a bath with. Isn't that rather nice?" he mused, suddenly pulling Lily against him.

"Well, dear," she replied in a serious voice, fighting a smile, "you know what they say. The more the merrier."

As soon as the words left her lips, James had lifted her up and put his mouth against hers. She let out a surprised squeal and hooked her legs around his waist.

The pair of them clung to each other as he hastily made for the bath room, kicking obstacles and furniture out of the way.

They didn't let go of each other until the next morning.


AN — well, there you have it! I hope you liked it, and please, if you have any, send me prompts :) Reviews are better than winning the House Cup

(well, not really, but...)