Disclaimer: The characters belong to JKRowling. I'm merely borrowing them.
Warning: Strong language and sexual themes. (Actually, as my stories go, this is quite tame...)
Summary: Broom closets at Hogwarts were often the location of lustful students performing dark deeds, but why did this particular couple have to involve Lily's boyfriend, and a witch who was certainly not Lily? It was a discovery James had not been happy to witness, but someone had to tell Lily, and that had to be James...
"I hate you, Potter," she said in a deathly whisper, her emerald green eyes flashing dangerously. Her skin was even paler than usual, contrasting magnificently with her dark red hair.
"No you don't," he replied quietly, raising a hand to his untidy black hair, then letting it drop as he caught Lily's disgusted expression.
"Why you? Why did you have to tell me? Why can't you just leave me alone? For fuck's sake, I'm sick of you. I hate you more than words can even describe!" Her eyes were sparkling with tears now, her hands had subconsciously curled into tight fists and she let out a choked sob.
"No. You don't," James repeated, taking a step closer to her.
"Get away from me!" She yelled, backing up and feeling the cold stone wall touch her back. They were back in the astronomy tower…how ironic. That's where he'd kissed her. All those years ago. It was also where he'd taken all those other girls…kissed them all too. Probably gone further…pulled their skirts up around their waists, pushed their knickers lazily aside, thrust deeply into each of them, then left. Returning to her. Claiming his undying devotion. Not that she cared anyway, right? She had someone else…well…she did. Up until now.
James hadn't taken other girls up there. But she didn't know that. Nor was James going to try and convince her. He shouldn't have to. Lily glared at him through glinting, sparkling emerald eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to overflow. He finally broke their gaze and glared out of the window, clenching his jaw angrily. She had the habit of making him feel so defensive all the time. How did she do this to him? Reach inside his chest, grab his soul with an iron fist and wrench it out of him, leaving him ripped, open, and exposed? He hated her. Hated her with all his heart.
He needed her. And she needed him. But it wasn't enough. It never would be. And perhaps he would have to be content with mutual hatred. Pretending he didn't care.
"I'm leaving," she said quietly, running a hand through her thick red hair. He didn't answer, didn't even look at her. But as she walked past him, he grabbed her arm roughly. "Let go of me."
He didn't. But he did turn and look at her. Pushed her roughly up against the wall, took her face in his large hands and forced her to look into his eyes. Her eyes made their way through his and into his soul: the soul she'd so mercilessly torn to a thousand pieces and left, to be picked up and sewed back together by those who didn't care that the pieces didn't quite fit, so he was left un-whole and broken.
"Let go of me," she repeated, her hands flying up to her face, wrapping around his fingers and attempting to pull them off of her skin. He dropped his hands from her face and grabbed her fingers, taking another step closer so his body was pressed hard against hers, rising and falling with each ragged breath she took.
"I'm not letting you go, Lily. I've let you go too many times before. I won't do it again. Not now."
She looked into his eyes: the green meeting the hazel, both shining with an overload of emotions. Kissing him just wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough. Nothing could be enough. She needed to devour him, to be him, to…oh she didn't know. But nothing would ever connect them the way she needed to. Would it be enough to have their bodies ripped to shreds, their life blood drained and run together, only then becoming one gushing river of hot, dark, sticky red? Not even then. Even that wasn't enough.
"Your eyes are dark as clouds, Tiger-Lily," James breathed, leaning in so his forehead touched hers, her clouded eyes becoming nothing more than blurred, coloured shapes.
"You do that to them," she murmured, unhooking her fingers from his and running them gently up his chest.
"I know. I hate myself for that."
"Good," she spat, digging her fingers hard under his collarbone and shoving him off of her.
"Ow!" he grabbed her wrists roughly and slammed them hard against the stone wall, up above her head. He could smell her sweet breath mingling with his own, the heat from her body radiating through her robes and spreading into him. Their foreheads were still pressed together. He released her wrists and she slowly lowered them, bringing her arms around the back of his neck, drawing him even closer if that was at all possible. He was so hot against her. At some point her legs must have fallen open, for he was standing in between them, pushing her ass into the hard wall. If flames had burst from them and their bodies had fused together, Lily wouldn't have been surprised. She would have even endured the unbearable pain if it meant never leaving him again. "Do you still hate me?"
"I'll always hate you," she replied softly, her eyes closed, her dry lips parted. Her face was a mask of sweet, satiated pleasure. She could feel her heart beating so fast she was sure it would explode any second. James could feel it too. He raised one of his hands and slipped it through the opening of her blouse, ripping off a button as he did so, and pressed his warm palm against the soft flesh of her breast.
"Tiger-Lily," he repeated, his voice now nothing more than a primal moan. "You deserve better than him…you…" he was lost for words. Nothing could describe the way he felt. Nothing, except his eyes. But hers were tightly clamped shut. Yet she could feel it. She could feel him through their clothes, through the contact of their bare skin, through the way his breath touched hers, his sweat mingled with her own, and his heat became her heat.
"I need you," she whispered, inching her fingers up into his dark, thick hair, gently scratching the back of his neck in a soothing massage. She brought her other hand to his face, tracing her thumb along the line of his jaw then softly caressing his earlobe, before leaning in and taking the soft skin in her mouth and sucking gently. He loved this and groaned deeply, pushing his pelvis forward and into her. She responded by tightening her fingers in his hair and pulling hard so he cried out and let his head fall backwards. She attacked his exposed throat at once, attaching her lips and sucking, before allowing her tongue to trace gentle circles around his Adam's apple. Letting her teeth graze the stubbled skin, she nipped at the tender flesh, and then gasped against him as his forgotten hand dug painfully into her breast. She could not pull away. She had nowhere to go: her back pressed uncomfortably hard against the wall, so she increased her ministrations with her teeth, almost drawing blood before his sharp cries caused her to desist.
James' head snapped back up, and their eyes met briefly before he leaned in, his mouth grazing her cheek, her jaw, her chin. He ignored her begging mouth, beautiful in all its silence, and continued to plant heavenly kisses on her ivory skin. His free hand groped lower, finding the waistband of her skirt, searching for the button, and unpopping it from it's small hole. With a slither of soft material, it fell to her ankles.
"We can't," Lily moaned, her fingers twining themselves into his thick hair while he continued his sweet attentions to her neck. "James, stop, we can't."
Unwillingly, James pulled his lips away from her neck and gazed up at her face. His eyes were full of mischief and longing…and sadness. So much sadness. It encompassed everybody now, touched the lives of all who were forced to endure the painful, bloody war. "Why can't we?" he asked simply, and she found she had no good answer to give him anymore, other than she didn't love him. But he didn't accept that. He never had, and he never would if he was to go on living, breathing. She was his life source, she gave him hope.
"You have to just let some things happen, Kitten," James remarked softly, trailing his lips once again down her neck, until he reached the top button of her blouse, and deftly undid it with his fingers. Lily felt her resolve crumble at her nickname, and a great wave of sadness washed over her. James could feel her powerful emotion, and he stood upright, pulled her head gently into his shoulder, wrapped a strong arm around her and rested his chin atop her head. He murmured softly to her as he felt her warm tears soak into his shirt.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, pushing away from him and wiping her running nose on the back of her hand.
"It's been a rough day," he said quietly, drawing her back to him and pressing his lips to her auburn locks and closing his eyes, breathing in the rich smell of her shampoo. Suddenly, Lily pushed him away again and stormed over to the window, gazing out into the chilly night air. "I had to tell you, Lils," James whispered, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, trying not to gaze at Lily's bare legs or her white cotton underwear that had bunched up so he could see the creases at the tops of her thighs. "You would have hated me more if I didn't tell you."
She spun around so violently, James actually took a few steps back. Tears streamed down her face and cold anger shot at him from her eyes. "That's not even possible, Potter. You wanted this to happen. You always wanted this to happen."
He couldn't deny it, but he hadn't wanted it to happen like this, and he told her so. She just covered her face with her hands and sunk to the floor, falling roughly on her knees. James didn't move, just watched her cry. It was the crying of a girl who wasn't even sure why she was crying, just that she needed to. It was desperate: the cry of one who doesn't know their purpose anymore. The cry of one who loves another so deeply that it rips them apart.
Stooping, James gathered the sobbing girl in his arms, carried her down the staircase, through the darkened castle and back into the now empty common room. The full moon glinted eerily through the open windows, and James was glad for once his friends were not around him. Lily had stopped crying by the time James laid her carefully down on his bed. Her eyes were closed and her breathing regular and deep.
How could anyone not love this girl? How could anyone cheat on her? Prefer to be with someone else? It just wasn't conceivable, not to James. He would give anything to be with her, anything. Tucking warm blankets around her, James kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed next to her sleeping frame. He wrapped long arms around her, pressed his lips to the back of her head, and slept, feeling, for the first time in years, that something positive would happen soon. That the war would not continue forever, that too much bad stuff had happened, and the good would prevail.
He loved Lily. And for now it was enough. Just to love and be loved in return. Because he knew she did love him, no matter how much she denied it. It was the type of love one could not even conceive. It ran so deep in them both, brought them to tears over and over again. And now there was hope. Hope. That's what would win this war. The hope that love would prevail. And all would be right with the world.
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