Chapter Text
It started with cakes, which was unusual for a rivalry.
It was the first Wednesday of August, two thousand and fifteen, or, possibly, the first and second of that month when it began. Later, once it was over, the precise dates would be debated by those involved.
A great tradition of the British summer is the Bake Off. It had risen from a BBC Two curiosity in twenty-ten to a yearly phenomena. Thousands of people had applied for a spot on the Bake Off. Twelve had been chosen. The odds of two of them knowing one another, even as friends-of-a-friend were overwhelmingly small.
And yet.
The first week was cakes. The first week was always cakes. Lily knew that. Lily was prepared. She could cope with cakes. She’d been practising for months, ever since they’d told her she had a place. It was going to be okay. She could do this. Deep breaths; walk into the tent.
Lily had always thought that “tent” wasn’t really the right word for it. It was more like a marquee. You couldn’t get twelve cooking stations in a tent. There was an interesting lead-like feeling in her stomach as she looked around at the others. She’d meant to do it on the bus, but she’d been too nervous to even consider speech. Middle aged women, three of them, and two younger ones. Pretty standard. There were some guys, most of them hovering around their forties, and one who looked like he was in his thirties, maybe. Lily wondered if she was the youngest contestant there.
That was when she saw him. He couldn’t have been much older than her, he was probably the same age. And good god, he was cute. Messy black hair that stuck up everywhere, an easy half-smile and glasses- nobody had any business being that fit. Behind the glasses were brown eyes. Possibly the loveliest brown eyes Lily Evans had ever seen. He walked to the station in front of hers hers, and perched himself on the counter top.
“Morning,” he grinned. “How’re you?”
“Terrified,” Lily admitted, with a slightly forced smile. “You?”
“My hands have been shaking since I got the call saying I was in,” the guy kept on grinning, but held up one of the shaking hands in demonstration. “I’m Potter,” he added. “James Potter.”
“Lily Evans,” she narrowed her eyes a little. “Say, do you always introduce yourself like you’re James Bond?”
“Only when confronted with slightly intimidating beautiful women,” James kept smiling. Lily thought it was slightly disconcerting, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and put it down to nerves.
“Well, thanks,” Lily felt her smile falter a little. It probably looked more like a grimace. “I’ll try not to put you off your baking.”
“Yes, that might be cheating,” James smirked. “I think they’re starting filming. Good luck.”
“You too.”
It was twenty-four hours of filming over two days. Somehow, it felt to Lily that it was a heartbeat. Most of the filming didn’t need the contestants, not really. The camera crews came around every ten minutes during the challenges to ask them questions, and Mary and Sue would come to see how they were getting on. Lily quite liked that bit. When the cameras were near, James ceased his constant torrent of nervous cursing. Some of his word choices were really quite spectacular. Lily was going to have to remember “son of an ineffective spatula” for later.
As she hovered nervously over her cake, a shadow appeared.
“How’s your crack looking?”
Lily’s first instinct was to glare, before she realised what he was talking about. She relaxed, and smiled. “It’s looking good. See?”
“Miss Evans, you have a lovely crack. Truly magnificent. Beautiful, some might say. I would be one of them.” James grinned.
“Oh, you flatter me,” Lily smiled back. “And how’s your crack looking?”
“It’s very well defined, if I do say so myself,” James gestured to his cake.
“I’m very impressed,” Lily admitted, squinting at the cake. “How’s your candied fruit coming?”
“I hate making candied fruit,” James said, with a theatrical groan. “I hate it. It’s so fiddly and I’m generally rubbish at it and today it feels like my whole life depends on it. I’m considering throwing myself in the bin to avoid it.”
“That’s quitter talk,” Lily said, shaking her head. “You get on with it, I’m sure you’ll be great.”
“Oh, probably,” James grinned. “I hear that I often am.” And, with that, he turned back to his baking, still smiling. He was always smiling.
Perhaps if Lily hadn’t been in possession of one of the most competitive souls on God’s own earth, she’d have been able to admit that it was endearing. That, and the way that James would joke around in the little breaks between filming, the way he’d sing to himself while he was cooking. It’d be cute, if it he wasn’t such a damn good baker. Because he was good. And being good made him competition. Lily knew, logically, that everyone there was competition, except maybe Stu, who’d put chocolate in his madeira cake, but in her mind, James was the priority. The problem was, as well as she did, James had done better. He’d injected his cake with lemon syrup. Lily was a trainee nurse. How did she not think of that?
And then it had been the technical challenge, which was probably the most stressful thing Lily had ever done. Although none of it had gone wrong, until she’d snapped one of her sponges in half, everything had been salvageable. Once the frosting was on, nobody had noticed a thing. The icing had gone and sodding crystallised, though, which made her want to shout at things. Mostly the icing. And her walnuts, which were apparently chopped too small.
Lily had come sixth. James had come fourth.
She wanted to scream.
The showstopper had been a chance to get it back. She would beat James Potter. She would. It had become vital. James Potter, with his face and his arse and his sense of humour was going down.
For a while, Lily was too busy to pay much attention to what James was doing, so for a change, they didn’t speak, although she did hear him quietly insulting his acetate. She ignored him, and carried on with her piping and her pink sponges. She did everything she could, but, when she too her black forest gateau to the judges, it was declared as lacking in alcohol. Lily had taken her exceptionally tall cake away, internally declaring that Paul was an alcoholic. It made her feel a little better.
And then James had presented a cake with a collar, a beautifully wrought chocolate extravaganza. And the judges had loved him. Of course, his cake had been not only a work of art, but delicious.
Damn him.
At least he hadn’t been star baker. That would’ve been too much. But he was just as safely in the competition as Lily was. That was probably because neither of them had gone and put chocolate in their madeira cake. Lily was pretty sure that she’d go to her grave swearing that the chocolate in the madeira cake was the reason Stu had been the first to be kicked off the show.
But it was okay. Lily had made it through the first week. She’d go home, and the next weekend, she’d be back. And the next weekend, she was going to kick James Potter’s arse.
the prettiest boy @padfoot
bake off tonight!! looking forward to watching my boy @prongs on the telly
the mastermind @prongs
@padfoot shut up shut up im so nervous
the prettiest boy @padfoot
@prongs YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE IT IT’S JUST A RECORDING
all my friends are idiots @moony
@padfoot @prongs you two are //sat next to each other//
i am not an idiot @wormtail
@moony you’re also sat next to them! we are all sat together
all my friends are idiots @moony
@wormtail stop being right
“But are you sure it’s not weird to watch yourself on telly?” James asked, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Remus said.
“I don’t care if it’s weird,” Sirius settled himself on Remus’ lap. “I’m watching it. I am not being deprived of the Great British Bake Off just because one of my mates is in it.”
“Two of my mates are in it,” Peter said, rather unexpectedly. As one, all his friends turned to look at him.
“What?” Sirius said, with his usual eloquence.
“She’s a mate from uni,” Peter shrugged. “Lily Evans, yeah? She’s on the nursing course, she was in my halls this year.”
“It’s… that Lily Evans?” James blinked. “Lily Evans from your halls is the same Lily Evans that’s on the workstation behind mine?”
“Can you stop saying ‘Lily Evans’?” Sirius asked. “Only, it’s getting weird.”
“It’s her,” Peter nodded. “Don’t worry though, mate. I’m rooting for you.”
“You never told me she was beautiful!” James shook his head. “She’s… she’s so gorgeous. And intimidating.”
“You fancy her.” Sirius said, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. “That’s your fancying a girl look. You fancy her!”
“One day,” Remus said, “one day, it’ll be like you two aren’t dating.”
“Jealous, Moony?” James grinned.
“Weirded out. You can’t go calling each other brothers and then flirt,” Remus shrugged, which was something of an achievement given the way that Sirius had draped himself over the other boy. James marvelled that Remus could move at all. He’d had a lot of experience of Sirius’s particular brand of physical affection and often found it very physically restricting.
“We can’t?” Sirius frowned. “Why not?”
“That’s incest,” Peter pointed out. “It’s not normally considered acceptable.”
“We’re not actually related,” James flushed. “And we don’t flirt.”
“Anyway, shut up, everyone. It’s starting,” Sirius flung an arm out to point at the telly. “I have to see this. It’s essential for my emotional wellbeing.”
It was probably pathetic, no, it was definitely pathetic, but James payed the most attention when Lily was onscreen.
Oh god, he had a problem.
Severus Snape @torturedgenius
If Lily Evans doesn’t win this thing then it’s a travesty. #GBBO2015
“Hey, hey, guys, check this out. Check this out.” Sirius waved a hand for silence. It took a few minutes and a wolf-whistle until he got it. “I was checking the twitter tag, right?’
“Of course you were,” Remus rolled his eyes. “What did you find?”
“So there’s a bloke supporting Lily,” Sirius grinned. “And I thought, I wonder what’s with this guy? He’s very adamant in his support. And the first thing you should know is that his header photo is a photo of him and Lily at what looks like prom, and her hair’s brown. The second thing you should know is that his twitter handle is tortured genius. And the third thing is I want to read you his profile.”
“Is there a particular reason you want to read us his profile?” James asked. “Only, I was about to go and take a piss.”
“You need to hear this. Everyone needs to hear this. Come on, two seconds, please?” Sirius fixed James with his best puppy eyes.
“Oh, fine,” James sighed. “Go, go on, get on with it.”
“Okay, his bio is like four sentences, which are as follows: Chemistry god. Brooding loner. Misunderstood. History not hate.”
“History not hate?” James repeated. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Says it right here. I’d keep an eye on this Lily if I were you,” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “If this bloke, who is either her best friend or her boyfriend, I can’t tell which from twitter, is a confederate flag supporter, chances are she is too.”
“That doesn’t sound like Lily,” Peter said, frowning. “She’s kind of… you know, chair of the feminist society and she’s always been nice to me. And in case you hadn’t noticed, y’know,” he gestured to himself. “Black.”
“She didn’t seem like she had a problem with me,” James pointed out. “And I’m hardly white, am I?”
“I’m going to stalk this guy,” Sirius declared. “And find out exactly what his relationship with Lily is. And then I’ll get back to you. Now go to the loo before you wet yourself, yeah?”
“Right,” James said, and left. He was suddenly looking forward to the next weekend a lot less. Still, there would always be biscuits.