october31st1981:

“You are such a Hufflepuff,” Lily tells her boyfriend as he slides back into his four-poster. 

James mumbles something that could be “Pardon?” but is mostly muffled by his pillow, to which his face is firmly pressed. His robes are dirty and torn, but tonight, there is no blood. There have been full moons where he has come back with deep scratches on his back, bites on his abdomen and legs, bruises so dark they look like they might swallow him whole. But tonight he is lucky, and it seems the worst he feels is tired.

She lays a hand on his head, and he leans into her touch, mumbling, “What’d you say?”

“You’re a Hufflepuff,” she repeats, stroking his hair with no small amount of affection. 

“I just spent the night grappling with my werewolf best mate,” James says, lifting his face. “I think that qualifies as daring and nerve. Maybe chivalry, too, while we’re at it,” he adds, poking Lily in the ribs. 

She grins, catching his hand and overlapping their fingers. “But do you know why you did that?”

“Because I’m a decent human being and I might have an adrenaline problem?”

“Loyalty,” Lily says, kissing him on the nose. “Hufflepuff.”

He crosses his eyes at her. “You know, it takes a lot of wit and learning to become an animagus. Some might call it more of a Ravenclaw move.”

“Takes a bit of cunning and ambition too, though I don’t see you calling yourself a Slytherin,” she teases. 

“How dare you,” replies James blandly. He shuffles over on the bed, so his head rests on Lily’s lap. “I bled for friendship tonight. A Slytherin would do no such thing. He’d make someone else bleed, first.”

Lily raises her eyebrows, and pulls away the collar of his grimy shirt. “I don’t see any blood,” she says, her tone a question. 

In response, James raises his left hand. Upon it, there are several scratches, each no bigger than a paper cut, but perhaps collectively enough to be slightly more than a mild irritation. She bites back a smile. “You’re very brave,” she declares. “Godric would be proud.”

“Thank you,” says James, apparently satisfied. He closes his eyes.

“And so would Helga.”

“Lily.”

Lily catches his second hand, laying them both over her heart. “I like Hufflepuffs,” she tells him. “If I weren’t in Gryffindor, that’s exactly where I’d like to be. It’s a compliment, you ninny.”

James palms her breast, making her laugh. “Is this your way of asking me to wear more yellow?”

“That,” she concedes, “And you’re a very good friend.”

He sighs. “Can’t you just tell me I’m handsome, like all the other girls?” 

Grinning, Lily kisses him again and says, “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

“This is my bed.”

“That’s why I wouldn’t kick you out.”