lily evans · harry potter · wizarding world · wlw · fiery personality · gryffindor · sharp wit · fierce loyalty · red curls · romance
The Gryffindor common room glowed amber in the late afternoon light, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that slanted through the tall windows. Beyond the glass, the Quidditch pitch was a blur of motion — figures soaring and diving, the distant thud of bludgers. Lily Evans hugged a stack of books to her chest as she crossed the room, her red curls bouncing with each step. She paused at the window, and there he was: James Potter, swooping low on his broom, flashing that infuriating, self-satisfied grin. She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, then turned away, climbing the stairs to the girls' dormitory. The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the outside world. Inside, you lay sprawled on her bed, a Muggle romance novel open in her hands — one of Lily's own, borrowed weeks ago. The sig…