Lily
I tighten my scarf around my neck, hiding the red mark so I can avoid questions. I know it's mid-May, the weather is warm and sunny, but a little bit windy.
I can't really blame him, but it isn't my fault either. I blame the alcohol that invaded my system last night.
Yesterday it was Gryffindor-versus-Hufflepuff Quidditch match and we won, obviously, so the boys had shown up with some firewhiskey I had no idea where they had snatched it from. I did drink. On my own will. You are not you when it kicks in your body.
But I wasn't drunk, so I remember what happened. James Potter had touched me, every possible, and I had liked it. He had taken me to the 7th floor and I saw a door I had never seen before.
That's where I am walking towards now. I touch the wall, trying to find the big, double, mysterious door. But there's nothing there. How is this even possible? I sigh and close my eyes, slowly sliding down the wall so I am sitting on the cold, hard ground.
Ooooh, how I had liked the previous night. The way he pulled me closer to him, the way his hands were warm on my skin, the way his lips felt intertwined with mine, surprisingly soft for all the strength he has, surprisingly gentle from all the eagerness to touch, to feel. I ran my hands over his arms, his strong arms, his muscular arms, up to his neck, scalp and back to his arms around. Repeating the same movement timeless times. His soft skin of his hands raised my t-shirt, his bare hands on my bare waist a little upper.
And I recall the sweet words he had whispered, the words that made me smile and melt, the same ones the boy that just sneaked to sit with me whispers now.
"I love you, Lily. "