September 9th 1977
I don't usually do stuff like this, keep a diary and so on. And I don't think this is going to be a real journal anyway. I just need a way to get all this out, and I'm not trusting Alice for a second with this one.
It's not like it's even a big of a deal or anything. I've just started to notice some things about Potter. Like how he hasn't asked me out since last Christmas. And how he seems to be just that tiny bit more mature than before. I know it's not much, but it's very confusing. If I didn't know better, I'd say he is growing up.
I mean, he hasn't cursed a single student yet and we've already had one full week at school! Black has, obviously, and I didn't see Potter actually telling him no. But he didn't take a part on it, and it surprised me big time.
I don't know why I'm even writing this down. This is stupid. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?
December 20th 1977
Apparently, it's going to be just me and the Marauders out of all the seventh year Gryffindors in the castle during Christmas holidays. Oh joy. And I don't even know why I'm writing this, again, but I guess I just want to get a couple of things straight.
Potter and I called a truce. It seems like we could actually become friends before school ends. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.
And I am NOT in any way in love with James Potter, no matter how many times a day Alice tells me so. You'd think that I know when I'm in love with someone, right?
Right?
January 29th 1978
James took me to Hogsmeade today. AS FRIENDS, to celebrate my birthday tomorrow. I hope he remembers to add that when he brags to his mates about it.
Alice still won't shut up, and I've decided to give up. Who wares if I do or if I don't love James Potter? I mean, I could have a worse choice. At least James is nice to look at. And he's actually very fun to hang around with, too.
February 8th 1978
It has been a week since I received the letter telling me about my mother's death. I don't have no one anymore. Petunia told me she doesn't want to see me in her life anymore. I am dead for her. And it shouldn't hurt this much but it does.
I have surprisingly started to spend evenings talking to James in the common room. Nothing else, just talking. He understands what it's like to have no one left, his parents died last summer. Of course he has Sirius, who is like a brother to him, but it's still not the same. A best friend is never the same as a blood-related sister.
In a way I feel like he too is happy to have someone to talk to.
February 15th 1978
In the dear name of Merlin, what have I done?!
Lily had sprinted straight to her own dormitory after waking up in the boys' chambers that morning. She was shaking from head to toe, all the blood had drained from her face, and she flipped through books furiously, trying to find a spell to hide the small love bites in her neck. She could swear the look on her face was one of utter horror and devastation, but she couldn't bring herself to look back in the mirror to confirm herself.
She knew what she would see there: yesterday's make up, chapped lips, messy I-just-had-some-mind-boggling-sex hair, horrified eyes and at least a dozen tiny love bites in her neck, shoulders and chest. She had left in a hurry, and she wasn't even wearing her own clothes that were now in a messy heap on her bed. No, she was wearing one of his shirts she had found from the floor (or at least she hoped it was his – if it wasn't, well, that would be awkward), and she could just hope no one had seen her when she fled from one dormitory to another early before the dawn.
How could this have happened? How could she let that happen to herself? To Alice, yes, and Marlene had been running between the dormitories since fifth year, and maybe Lily could have understood if Emmeline was found in some boy's bed. But Lily was the head girl, she was conscientious and exemplary and virtuous and certainly not shagging James Potter. Especially when there was a nonalcoholic party involved and she was supposed to look after the younger students after curfew.
Lily was ready to tear her hair out of her head. She felt like crying as she threw the books aside in the empty dorm room and put her face to her hair.
Just for tonight, he had said. Just for tonight, please forget that you're the head girl. Forget that you have duties, forget that we have potions on Monday, forget that you're Lily Evans. It's Valentine's Day, for Merlin's sake. Let go a little. Just for tonight, let yourself do what your heart desires.
And what did she do? She kissed him. She bloody kissed James Potter by the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. And it wasn't a simple I-kind-of-like-you-let's-make-out kiss, it wasn't even a gosh-you're-hot-let's-make-out-and-see-where-it-goes kiss. It was an honest-to-God my-body-is-telling-you-to-shut-up-and-take-me-twice-before-the-night-is-over kiss. (Although now that she thought about it, it was at least three times.) She didn't know where the strange need had come from, or why, and she certainly didn't know why then, but it was too late to think about it now that it had already happened.
The most terrifying part was that she couldn't remember any part of the night that she wasn't willing to shag him. She had, in fact, been the one demanding it, although there was no way you could say he wasn't at all willing. He was thrilled, absolutely overjoyed. He was enjoying every second of it, and Lily felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remembered little details and how his lips had tasted like and what it felt like to have his fingers tracing down her bare back. A part of her wanted to go and yell at him for using her on her moment of weakness, but she couldn't do that, now, could she? She had pretty much forced him herself, and so there was no one else to blame. (But you needed two people to actually have sex without it being a rape, right?)
How could she ever face him again? How? Or any of his friends, for that matter, since she was sure they knew already. And if Sirius Black knew she had slept with James Potter, there was no way she could live it down. The whole school would probably know by dinner, and there would go her credibility as a head-strong head girl. She had used six and a half years of her life telling everyone she was not in love with James, that she didn't even like him, and now all of a sudden she had slept with him on Valentine's Day?
Lily hadn't ever liked James, but she could easily admit he was very good-looking and indeed charming if he didn't try too much. He was very much likable, but she didn't like him. Or, well, maybe that was too harsh, they were friends after all. Lily didn't fancy James. Or did she? No, she didn't, of course she didn't. She would have realized it sooner if she did, right? Lily didn't fancy James, and there had to be another reason for yesterday and the way she sometimes found herself staring at him and doodling his name in her notebook and the fact that she couldn't stop herself from smiling slightly when she thought about his toned body moving above her. She used to hate him, remember?
It was too confusing, it was all too bloody confusing to be dealt with today. So it was decided: Lily Evans would not leave the girls' dormitory today.
She took a nice long shower (probably using all the hot water left in the Gryffindor tower but she didn't really care) and threw James' shirt in her bag where no one could see it. She hid herself behind the curtains of her four-poster bed and told Alice she didn't feel that well, resulting a plate full of good-smelling toast being brought on the table next to her bed. Alice probably thought this was still the sadness about losing her mother, and Lily was happy to let her believe so. She herself wanted to believe last night was just a result of her mourning. But no matter how hard she tried, by the time dinner was long served and some of the girls were back in the dormitory, she knew shagging James had nothing to do with being sad. How could it be when she hadn't felt any sort of sadness the whole time?
Lily was positive mostly everyone was back now, and since it was school day tomorrow the common room would probably be almost empty, too. She still didn't move from her bed. (She was really starting to feel sick now that she had been under the covers all day, not being outside the room or getting any fresh air.) She was safe there, no one saw her and she saw no one and she most definitely didn't see James Potter.
That is until Alice peeked behind the curtains, her face full of worry.
"Lily, are you okay, sweetie?" she asked and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey or something?"
Lily put a small smile on her face and turned to look at her friend. "No, I'm going to be just fine. I just caught a flu last night, that's all. A little sleep and a cup of tea in the morning and I'm good as new."
But Alice frowned and took her hand. "Are you sure?" Lily nodded, and decided it hurt her neck from lying around all day. She would so not do this again anytime soon. "You know you can talk to me, right? About... about your mom." Lily turned her face away from her and heard her sigh. "You shouldn't be so much alone, Lils. Talk to someone."
"I will."
"Okay." There was a small silence, and in that moment Lily knew Alice was a little hurt that she wasn't the one Lily was going to talk to. But it was too late to back away now. "Anyway, James has been asking about you all day. He seems really worried. I said you had a flu, but he told me to tell you he'd be waiting in the common room if you got any better."
The way his name sent shivers down her spine was ridiculous. Sure, it felt strangely nice, but it was still ridiculous. And Lily sure hoped Alice didn't see the way she got all flustered and her cheeks caught the smallest hint of pink as her brain reminded her of all the ways she had said, whispered, hissed, moaned his name less than twenty-four hours ago. Out of the context, it seemed horrible and embarrassing, but since he wasn't any better with her name Lily could forgive herself. Just this once. (And it also made her head spin to remember the way he whispered her name against her neck. Damn that man.)
"Okay. Thanks, Alice." She felt Alice get up and heard her close the curtain, and she knew she was being a bit rude. But had Alice stayed there for just a minute longer Lily was sure she would have noticed the love bites down her neck. And then she would have had some serious explaining to do.
In all honesty, Lily didn't know what to do. James was persistent, she knew that from years of experience, and so she assumed he would sleep on a couch in the cold common room if it was necessary. A part of her didn't want him to get cold there but instead go there and tell him to go to bed, but a much bigger part of her wanted to hide from the world at the very thought of him. She didn't want to face him, because facing him would mean she had to face their situation, and after last night she wasn't at all sure she wanted that. (A tiny part in the back of her mind was looking forward to recap, but she shut it away. Mostly.)
It took her almost three hours, but when all the lights were out and she was sure everyone was fast asleep, Lily carefully got out of bed and put on her dressing gown over her pajamas. She opened the door constantly looking over her shoulder and grimaced as the joints creaked. No one woke up, thank Merlin for that, and she successfully made her way out of the room and down the stairs to the common room without making any more noise.
She hadn't thought what she would say. She really had no idea. She didn't even know what the bloody hell she was doing there. If she was silent enough, she's be able to get away before he saw her, hide back into the dormitory and go to sleep and tomorrow in the potions class she could act like nothing happened. But her pride wouldn't let her back away now, so she walked toward the couch where she saw him curled up in a ball, trying to keep himself warm. The fire had died a while ago, and it was really chilly and James wasn't even wearing a jumper. Lily felt a need to take off her dressing gown and put it on James before sneaking back to the girls' dormitory, but before she could do anything he opened his eyes and she realized he wasn't asleep, after all.
"You came", he simply said. He yawned and stretched and Lily blushed as she caught a glimpse of bare skin of his stomach. She took a seat on the same couch as him as he sat up, rubbed his face and turned to look at her. He had a small mark under his left ear, and Lily had an idea how it had ended up there. "I thought you'd end up spending the rest of your life hiding from the world."
"I was planning to do so." Once he had caught her stare she couldn't turn away. It was like he had put some kind of a spell on her, but she knew for a fact he hadn't. Her heart was beating slightly faster and she blamed it on the nerves. She was downright embarrassed about her behavior last night, and she was sure it showed on her face, too.
James looked at her closely, and somehow his stare was so piercing, so knowing and intimate she wanted to turn away so bad it hurt. But she couldn't. All she could was sit there, feel the cold in her bare feet as she stared at his brown eyes. She finally understood why it was said that eyes were the mirror to the person's soul. It was like she could see everything James was thinking, except it was all in a language she couldn't understand, in such a beautiful dead language only known inside his mind. And she found herself willing to learn the grammar.
"What changed your mind?" His voice was curious and his eyes said everything, but his face was emotionless, like he didn't want her to really know what he was thinking. And there was the same roughness in his voice that ended almost every sentence with a groan last night, and she was feeling weird. Not bad and possibly not good, but definitely weird. She suddenly thought that maybe the roughness had always been there, in his voice, but now she just noticed it after hearing it in a situation that was completely uncommon for her.
Lily took a deep breath, but all she managed to get out was a small, "I don't know." Because she couldn't lie to those eyes. Those eyes had seen her on her best and on her worst, they had seen her as she cried for the loss of her mother and they had seen her yelling at him for hexing students for the fun of it. James' eyes had seen her laughing happily to her friends, and his eyes had seen her clinging to his naked body for dear life. He had seen her everything, both physically and mentally, and she just couldn't lie to that. So she just said she didn't know, because she didn't, and continued to stare into his eyes, trying to get a hang on how they spelled her name.
He looked back at her with those all-knowing brown eyes, and didn't say a thing, and after a while Lily was very much aware of their toes touching on the couch. There was the fabric of his socks between them, but she still felt the warmth that radiated from him, and it was almost too much. She tried to ask herself, "too much what?" because hadn't she come to the conclusion she didn't fancy James? Yet there she was, sitting on the same couch with him in the otherwise empty common room in the middle of the night, getting ridiculously excited about their toes touching, trying to get her heart rate to slow back down to even slightly normal, and thinking that maybe she did fancy him, just a little.
"Sirius thinks I shagged some innocent sixth year last night." Even though his voice broke the perfect silent in the room, Lily thought it wasn't like everyone said it was, it didn't bounce from the walls or sound like yelling. He just said it, and when the words drowned to her mind she was taken aback by their randomness. "He sounded actually pretty mad that I was getting over you."
James didn't sound humored, even if his words tried to be funny. (The tiny part in the back of her mind was progressing James and the word shagged.) He sounded almost sad, and Lily could see why. Still she forced herself to break the eye contact and shook her head. A few of her red curls fell on her face, and she caught the scent of her soap. It actually made her nose kind of itchy, and she thought about buying some different soap next time.
"Can we like", she struggled to find the right words, because how was she supposed to know what to say in a situation like this and to say it without hurting him or hurting herself? "I mean, can we not talk about it?"
She felt like crying again, because even though she wasn't looking at James anymore (the tiny hole in the hem of her dressing gown was marvelous) she could sense the way his face fell. And seriously, she just felt really bad. She had slept with him last night (four times, she remembered now) and what kind of a girl didn't want to talk about it afterwards?
"You seriously want me to continue like nothing happened last night?"
"I didn't say that." Her voice was barely audible, but she was sure he heard her nonetheless. He always heard her. Previously she had thought it was kind of stalkerish, but after looking so deep into his eyes she couldn't blame her. She was sure she'd hear his voice from the other side of the school, as well. She still didn't look at him, but if she ever had the courage she decided she'd take his hand in hers. "I never said that. Please don't put words to my mouth."
She could feel his gaze on her face. It was the little tingle on the skin of her cheekbones, tip of her nose, her still chapped lips, down her neck. She knew he was sort of watching the love bites he had given her last night, and she couldn't blame him, she had checked the one under his ear. She was getting bored at inspecting the hole on the worn out fabric, but he kept silent, waiting for her to say something, so she couldn't look up.
"What happened last night", she started, again trying to find the right words. What was last night? Was it just one night? Was it her moment of weakness? Did it mean anything to her? Did it mean anything to him? "I... it certainly wasn't nothing."
She wasn't really sure what it was yet, so that was pretty much all she could say. It wasn't nothing. She couldn't say anything more, because in all honesty she thought there weren't even real words to what she wanted to say, and she didn't want to lie to him, couldn't lie to him. Lily wanted James to understand that she had by no means been planning on shagging him last night, or ever for that matter, but how was she going to say that without implying she hadn't really wanted to? Because thinking about it now, she was certain she had wanted it so badly it was almost suffocating her.
Lily took a sharp intake of breath and was about ready to explode when she saw his hand move swiftly towards her and under her chin, lifting her face up with a couple of gentle fingers and forcing he to look him in the eyes again. His eyes were twinkling, like there was a fire inside the irises, and she absentmindedly wondered if that was what authors meant when they said that eyes laughed.
"Come on, Lils", James whispered, and she saw the smallest hint of a smile play on his lips. "I know you can do so much better than that."
And the truth was that it was really hard to concentrate when his thumb was trailing the line of her lower lip. His touch was silky and feather-like, so smooth it was almost not there, but still it could like Lily up like a firework. And the worst part was that James knew exactly what he was doing to her, he knew how his touch affected her, and he enjoyed it. He was bloody laughing at her, and she knew she should be furious. She should be yelling at him by now, calling him all those names she used to before, but she couldn't. She couldn't, because she realized she didn't regret a second of what had happened last night.
Yes, it was embarrassing, humiliating even, that she had ended up sleeping with James Potter of all people. And on Valentine's Day, which was a joke in itself. But did she regret it? Did she regret kissing his lips like she needed him more than she needed air to breathe? Did she regret his hands roaming her body, touching her everywhere and making her feel so many different things all at once? Did she regret the sound of his voice against her skin when he whispered her name and kissed her lower stomach repeatedly, teaching her how to let go and forget her duties and live?
She didn't regret any of that. But did she regret getting up early that morning before he had woken up to get away from him?
"Oh, to hell with it", she muttered, took his face to her hands, threw herself at him and kissed him. Like, really kissed him. Not my-body-is-telling-you-to-shut-up-and-take-me-twice-before-the-night-is-over kissed him, but this time it was something between I-kind-of-like-you-let's-make-out and gosh-you're-hot-let's-make-out-and-see-where-it-goes. If she had to categorize the kiss, she would say it was more like an I-kind-of-like-you-and-you-look-insanely-hot-right-now-let's-make-out kiss. And it was good.
Lily knew they would have to talk about this, but for her it was enough to feel James pull her closer and kiss her with the same force she kissed him. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist under her night gown, playing with the hem of her pajama top, and his other hand was in her hair and he run his fingers through her hair, and she let her own hands roam around his torso until settling into his messy hair. His every touch was electric, every movement of his lips seemed so practiced and carefully planned but at the same time so spontaneous, and she just couldn't get enough of it, enough of him. And she didn't even care that she wasn't supposed to fancy him, because bloody hell, if he kept kissing her like that she could even let herself fall in love with him.
"You do realize", James mumbled against her skin as he proceeded on kissing her neck, now less hungrily but not any less dizzyingly, and she tilted her head to the side just a little, "that this doesn't count as a real conversation?"
Lily sighed (and it did not have anything to do with the fact that his lips found that sensitive spot behind her ear) and draw circles to his scalp with her fingertips. "Yeah. But I'm really enjoying this part."
His laugh was barely audible, but she felt it through her body as he raised his head from her neck to kiss her swiftly on the lips again before just resting his forehead on hers and looking at her. She just knew he was looking at her, even with her eyes closed. His breath was warm on her face, and his fingers were tracing the exposed skin of her lower back, slowly drawing letter after letter and making words that didn't even make any sense. And she let herself get used to the feeling, let her heart slow down and breath even. Not that she was perfectly satisfied yet, but she was still Lily Evans, and she knew talking was inevitable.
"I take it you don't actually mind what happened last night?" James whispered, and Lily opened her eyes only to realize that his lips were so closed to hers that they almost touched as he talked. His beautiful eyes were a couple of shades darker than before she attacked him, but the playful laugh was still there.
"Well done, Mr. Detective", she breathed, and his lips brushed against hers briefly before curving into a perfect smile. Not his almost annoying smirk, but a real smile. "Did I seem like I minded last night?"
"Not so much. Especially after the second time." He started to kind of kiss her lips repeatedly, and it kind of made it hard for her to focus on anything else. Kind of. "And certainly not after the third time. That was hot."
"Shut up."
After a couple of more kisses (and a embarrassingly audible whimper from her as his hands explored her body too much like they did last night) it started to get heated again, and just before Lily lost all the control she still had of herself she heard James mutter, "So will you go out with me, then?"
And she rolled her eyes and said, "Of course. Now, less talk and more action."