Note: This is a collection of the seven oneshots I wrote last month for Jilynet's Jily Week on Tumblr.

The oneshots are not interconnected, and genres and setting are subject to vary.

Sunday June 7th, Jily Week Day One

Prompt: Modern AU

Lily tried to pile her notes into some semblance of an order and heaved a heavy sigh. She really didn't want to leave the safety of her car but the interview had been already cancelled once and her professional ethic did not allow her to bail twice on the poor sod she had come to make an article about. She got out of her car, holding on to the stack of notes, feeling horribly off her game. Her heart wasn't in it; it was a hundred miles away in a Cokeworth hospital. Steeling herself, she walked over to the front doors.

Conference Room 10, her mind readily supplied as she stepped into the building. If only her brain was as prepared in other areas as well, and not dwelling on the events of last week. As she walked along the corridor, looking for the conference room reserved for the interview, she realised with a start she couldn't even remember his name.

Lily groaned. She had done her research, as the stack of notes in her hands proved. Unfortunately she had run on an autopilot so none of the information she had gathered had actually registered in her brain. But even if she had not done any research at all, and even though she wasn't even remotely into sports, she still should have at least known his name. After all, she lived in the heart of London, not under a rock, and his team had won the Premier League last year thanks to the winning goal he had scored.

Honest to god, she wasn't usually this much of a scatterbrain.

"Parker?" she muttered to herself, still hung up on the name. "Porter?"

"Potter, James Potter", an amused voice spoke from behind her.

Bugger, she bit as she turned, trying her best not to look too much like a deer caught in headlights. The man was regarding her with a crooked grin, and she instantly recognised him from the photographs she had seen.

"And you must be Miss Evans", he continued.

Lily nodded mutely.

Holy Hell, the photographs had not made Mr Potter any justice. She wouldn't exactly have called him handsome but good grief did the man have a presence. That crooked grin, the easy confidence, all the charisma that seemed just to ooze out of him.

Lily shook her had to clear it, and finally found her vocabulary.

"Yes, I am."

"Glad to finally meet you", he said, offering her his hand, hazel eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"The pleasure is mine", she returned the courtesy and shook his hand. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel our appointment last week…"

"That's all right. I heard it was a family emergency."

Lily gave a tight nod. Her heart had suddenly plummeted and she tried to swallow down the dread lodged in her throat.

He seemed to sense her discomfort, for one dark eyebrow quirked upward.

"I hope your family is all right."

"Er, thank you." Lily tried not to imagine how her father had looked when lying in that hospital bed, how helpless it had made her feel. "We'll be fine", she spoke in a low voice more to herself than Mr Potter.

The football player stared at her with a contemplative look in his eyes. He stepped to the door of Conference Room 10 and opened it.

"Shall we?" he asked with a small, friendly smile, holding the door open for her.

"Right", Lily said, clutching her papers. "Thanks."

She walked in and took a seat at the table. She set down her notes, organising them into piles in front of her. She was digging through her pocket for the voice recorder when the chair next to hers was pulled out and Mr Potter plopped down, studying her from behind his glasses.

Not one for personal space, is he, Lily noted with an internal start.

Going through the familiar motions of shuffling papers, of pulling out her notebook and favourite pen, of setting the recorder on the table and dictating the time and the place and persons present, she began to inevitably slip into the work mode. Curious, how easily she managed it in the end, even with her heart heavy in her chest.

Mr Potter waited patiently while Lily gathered her thoughts and eased further into the work mode. Enough with the scatter-brained Worried-about-dad Lily. It was time to bring out the Professional Lily.

She took a deep breath.

"You and your team have had quite the year, Mr Potter. Congratulations of your last season's victory."

"Thank you", the man grinned.

"You became quite the overnight sensation after scoring the winning goal in the final match. How has this affected your life?"

Lily noted Mr Potter's hand jumping up to muss his already messy black hair, as she intently listened to his answer. He appeared fairly relaxed, at ease in her presence. He seemed to be completely natural as well, not putting up a front or a role like some celebrities did.

The interview proceeded very smoothly; Lily managed to state her questions in quite an organised manner in spite of her private distractions. She asked things like what kind of pressure their last season's victory was giving them in regards of the next season, she asked about the training regime, about his role in the team and the dynamics with his teammates.

"Who's the biggest support in your life?" Lily asked, looking up from her notes.

"Professionally speaking, we owe a lot to our coaches and managers. It is no easy task to get all these egos and different personalities to play together as a team. But if we are talking in general terms, then the biggest support in my life are without a doubt my parents, who have been encouraging me every step of the way." He levelled an earnest smile at her, and Lily's breath caught in her throat.

Shit, she swore, trying to rein in her rampant feelings. There will be no crying, do you hear me Lily Evans? More Professional Lily, less Worried-about-dad Lily, if you please!

It took her a moment to compose herself, but if Mr Potter noticed, he didn't say anything; he just calmly sipped his water and waited for the next question.

"So let's talk about your team for a moment, shall we?" she asked, glad that her voice didn't waver. "The little birds chirp that there is quite a lot of mayhem happening behind the scenes. Have you indeed been bestowed the title of 'Marauder Extraordinaire' by your teammates?"

Mr Potter laughed, and something in the warm sound soothed her. It made his hazel eyes become alive, and Lily found herself unable to turn her gaze away. She quickly discovered that football wasn't Mr Potter's only talent – he was quite an adept storyteller as well. He launched into a story of his wild escapades and various pranks played on his unsuspecting team-mates, punctuating these tales with wild gestures and mischievously twinkling eyes. His good mood was contagious, his many pranks ridiculous, the way he related these stories to her so vivid she could picture them before her eyes. And for a moment she forgot that her father was lying in a hospital bed back in Cokeworth, recovering from his heart attack and the subsequent surgery; she forgot about the worry gnawing at her heart, about the fear and anxiety plaguing her mind and rendering her into an unprofessional scatterbrain. She forgot about everything but the mad stories she was picturing in her mind. And she laughed.

His eyes flashed the moment the merry sound left her lips, though it was gone too soon for her to catch the emotion in them. Relief perhaps? Appreciation? Approval?

Time seemed to fly after that, her personal troubles had taken a back-seat as Professional Lily successfully completed the interview. They were back to making courtesies, politely tip-toeing around each other with their thank-yous, when an idea suddenly struck Lily. She fidgeted for a few seconds, but then turned to football player.

"Mr Potter", she started hesitantly.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice soft and kind.

"If it isn't too much trouble, my father is a fan. Would you mind, er, signing an autograph for him?"

"I'd be delighted", he said with an easy grin, accepting the piece of paper Lily was offering. "What is his name?"

"Harold", Lily replied. Then, as Mr Potter went to put the pen on the paper, she bit her lip. "Could you – " the words tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them. Mr Potter turned to look at her and her cheeks flushed. "Could you also please include a message for him to get well soon?"

The hazel eyes softened, and he gave her a solemn nod.

"Of course, Miss Evans. And if there is anything else I could do to help – anything at all – please let me know."

"Thank you", she told him, though she doubted there was much else he could do for her or her father.

He wrote his little message and signed it with flourish, and then, with a small smile, handed the piece of paper to her. She accepted it gratefully, and carefully tucked it into her pocket.

She went to gather her notes, picking the pile from the table and clutching it to her chest.

Once again reverting to her professional self, Lily turned to regard Mr Potter one last time. She gave him her card.

"If you could contact me by e-mail, I can send you the editorial draft of this interview, so you might peruse it yourself in case you have any comments before it goes to the print."

Mr Potter took her card, but waved his hand dismissively.

"Nah", he said, "I don't think there's any need for that. I fully trust your judgement and discretion, Miss Evans."

Lily's heart leaped from such a compliment and she fought not to blush.

"I'd appreciate if you sent me an advance copy of the magazine, though."

"Sure", she managed. "No problem."

Then, with the last polite smiles and professional handshakes, they parted their ways.