1976, during chapter 11.

James thinks the Christmas Party is going well. Rosalie is his friend, his Cupid, his wingwoman, guiding him through the process of befriending Lily Evans. And Lily is now dancing with him, gliding across the room like a fairy.

For some reason, in her arms, James forgets every single dance lesson he took as a child. He stumbles through the dancefloor like a lost child, but the more he looks into Lily's emerald eyes, the more he regains his balance.

And then he begins to lead.

"Not bad, Potter," Lily hums, eyes glittering in amusement.

James grins. "Only for you, Evans."

She flushes, changing the subject. "Look. Abbott and Wilkins are dancing."

He turns, eyes widening. "As are Rosalie and Sirius."

"People do call them an old, married couple," Lily says, although she also looks surprised. "Not to their faces, of course. I bet they're dancing to spy on us."

"Should we move away, then?" James asks.

Lily replies with another question. "Do you want to? Or should we entertain them?"

"What are you doing with him?" an annoying voice interrupts. James has never wanted to punch Severus Snape more than, well, he does now.

People clear out of their way, leaving James, Lily, and the annoying git in a little, unmoving clump.

"None of your business," Lily says coolly, but she's shaking.

"It's James Potter." Snivellus scowls. "You know what he does to me."

James rolls his eyes. "You're acting like you haven't used Dark Magic on Peter. Or threatened to hex us in the hallways. Or called Rosalie that word!"

"He did what?" Lily asks, eyes blazing with fury.

"Please forgive me, Lily!" Snivellus practically begs, oozing with desperation. "I didn't mean what I said —"

"You didn't mean it?" Lily asked, eyes brimming with tears. "How can you not mean it? Everyone was right, Severus. I shouldn't have held on. I'm not different from all the Muggle-borns in the school. You granting me a special grace doesn't make you any better."

She runs away, and James spots tears rolling down her perfect cheeks, her mane of hair disappearing through the curtains. And James, well, James could fight Severus Snape, but he cares about Lily more.

So much more.

Someone grabs his elbow from behind him. James is about to rip his arm away, before realising that it's Rosalie.

"Let her go," she says softly. "She might lash out at you."

"I can't." He worms out of her grip. "Stay here, Rosalie. I'll be back."

James pushes through rich curtains of red and green, mind pulsing with the words of Snivellous just said. How could he beg Lily to forgive him, as if she's a different case? It's almost as if he doesn't see her as a Muggle-born. To Snivellus, Muggle-born and Lily Evans are mutually exclusive, despite the fact that Lily does come from a Muggle family.

She's so much more than her origins, James knows, but the snivelling idiot ignores that in favour of his blood purism.

"Evans!" James rushes after the redhead. "Are you alright?"

Lily turns around, hair sticking to her tear-stained face. "No, James. I'm not alright."

"I'm sorry," is all he can say, hands tucked in his pockets.

"It's not your fault, even back when he first called me ... that." She sniffles. "I could say you provoked him, but nothing should provoke a slur. Nothing."

James nods emphatically. "I agree."

She gives him a half-smile. "I know. You should go back to the party, James. Sirius will be asking where you are."

"I don't want to," he says, cautiously stepping forward. Using his thumb, James gently wipes the tears off Lily's face. She stills, but doesn't stop him. "I just don't want you to cry. Not over him."

Lily gives him a watery smile. "I can't help it."

"It's not your fault," James insists, parroting what Lily said. "Nothing about this is. He should've left you alone, Lily."

Yelling echoes from behind the wall, and both of them turn around.

"I'd ... rather not be a part of that," Lily murmurs, eyes alight with something that James recognizes as mischief. He can't help but fall further in love. "Do you want to get out of here?"

James's eyes widen. "Us — together — alone —"

Lily laughs her beautiful laugh, and James stops talking. "Yes, James. Just us two."

James lets himself grin. "I know a few passageways, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." Lily tiptoes, her eyes gently roaming his face, before adjusting his crooked glasses. "Your glasses were bothering me. Sorry."

Owlishly, James blinks at her. "I can — I can take them off."

"No, not like that!" She snickers. "Your glasses were crooked. Either way, I do like them. You look handsome."

A stuttering, red-faced James bashfully takes her hand ("You can't just say that," he'd muttered just then, and she'd turned brilliantly red), before directing her away from the party.

They leave the chaos, leave the loud dancing and drinks, to enjoy a night together. Maybe he'd just happened to impulsively reveal his animal form of a stag, but he knew he chose the perfect girl when she found it hilarious.

So, no matter what, it was one of the best nights that James had.