This is a fanfic that Emmetluver and I wrote a way while back. It's a bit unlike the rest, but that's just how our brains operate when together. :) Read+Review!

James Potter was strolling around the corridors of Hogwarts, his mind in a swirling torrent of worry. Believe it or not, he was anxious about how poorly he had studied for his finals the next day. His heart gave a leap every time he tried to remember vocabulary words, and his brain came up empty.

He turned a corner, and became aware that he was not alone. A large clique of Slytherin girls leaned against the wall, whispering to each other loudly. Makeup covered any beauty that may have realistically been on their faces, making them almost doll-like. He combed over the group with his hotness radar; none of them seemed to cut it for him. So he made a show of walking by them, minding his own business.

It was not to be so.

One of them glanced his way and let out a loud wolf whistle. The rest of the heads turned, and they collectively raised their eyebrows, all impressed. One of them leaned over to her neighbor and whispered something, very quietly. She smiled, then nodded. James fleetingly wondered what they were saying; then he thought only what a true Marauder would think:

I should flip them off!

Making sure they were all still staring at him, he removed his left hand from his robe pocket and lifted his middle finger. One of them hissed angrily, sounding like a cat that had gotten her fur ruffled the wrong way. They started towards him in almost perfect unison, strides taking them down the corridor much faster then it should have. He threw up his hands as the leader of the group reached him, scolding.

"Whoa, whoa, no need to start a party, darlin'." To his utter surprise, she smiled slyly.

"No… let's." She moved closer than his personal bubble should have allowed. He looked around casually, and saw the group of maybe ten girls had surrounded them at all angles. He smelled her sickly sweet breath.

"You need to brush." He was proud of keeping the slight tremor that went through him out of his voice. She giggled, and as if on a cue, the rest of her posse moved closer to him. He backed up slightly; he hit the stone wall.

"No need for that," she cooed, drawing her arms around his neck. He struggled, but it was in vain; her grip was tight, almost choking him. Another girl giggled loudly, and reached under the leader's grip on his neck to unbutton his shirt collar, the first button in a long row running down his chest. He pulled back violently as yet another stuffed her nose into the small crescent she had created.

He was ashamed as hell to admit it, but he was totally ready to holler for help at this point. But his hopes were in vain as a very black polished finger was shoved hard and fast into his mouth.

"Now you don't want to ruin our fun, do you, pretty?" The same girl clasped her mouth over his, withdrawing her finger and holding the back of his head. He struggled, but again, it was in vain. Her grip was viselike, and her tongue was inserted into his mouth. He felt sick as his mind whirled, asking for oxygen and his throat begged to throw up. He was aware of hands, so many hands, stroking every part of him, up his back, down his pants, one of them even removing his shoe to stroke his foot. Some buttons were undone, others just ripped off as his shirt was removed. He convulsed violently as something broke in him; he felt lips trail down his chest and his belt was undone. He gave a tiny squeak; he wasn't an idiot, he knew what was coming.

The owner of the hand giggled as she ripped down his pants, his knickers coming with them. Almost immediately afterwards, she hopped up into his arms, partly being supported by her many friends. She hitched up her skirt, then, making sure she was positioned correctly over him, she lowered her hips down, and he was engulfed by her. He began to shake, great rolls of his body rejecting what was happening. She, however, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely; she giggled and squirmed, working her hips up and down into a steady rhythm.

James wouldn't and couldn't believe it. Many, oh so many things in his life he couldn't control, but his body wasn't one of them. Though he would kill before telling the guys, but he was a virgin, despite all the cocky flirting, and had planned to remain that way until he married. His mind complained, and come close to shutting down at the complete refusal to do what he told it to.

What happened when his pants fell to his ankles didn't stop. It came again and again, different girls, giggles, tongues feeling around his mouth. So many entrances he was forced to thrust into, against his will, and it wasn't stopping. It would never stop. Croons entered his ears, and the never ending giggles. Tears now streamed down his face as his face, and his insides screamed as they were licked up.

After awhile, to James it felt like forever, the girl who was currently atop him pulled away. The rest of them were either hitching up or lowering their skirts properly, and the leader stepped forth. He noticed she was brandishing her wand in a very threatening way.

"Listen up," she snarled in a menacing whisper, "If you tell anyone, ANYONE, we'll do it again. And we'll make it worse, got it?" He whimpered, nodding. He was beyond caring that he sounded completely pathetic. The girl smiled sweetly.

"Good. Then we won't have any trouble." She leaned in, and licked him in the v of his neck. She then proceeded to snap her fingers, and they all sped down the corridor, giggling, the way he had originally discovered them.

Since there seemed nothing else to do, he struggled into his pants {backwards}, crumpled into a heap on the floor with his head between his knees, and began to sob. He threw up, but nothing came; he hadn't eaten much, and what he had was already gone. When he stopped, went back to knee hugging, and began to shiver.

^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%%^%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Lily Evans traipsed down the corridor, feeling very happy indeed. She had gotten an O in almost everything, except for Herbology, in which she had gotten an A. And she would have gotten an O if she had not been flirting with a bunch of graduated students with May during class. They had come in to deliver some Tentacula from Germany, and my, they had been delectable.

Whistling under her breath, she turned a corner, and then stopped. Either her eyes were playing tricks on herself, or James Potter was crumpled in a half-dressed little heap on the floor. His limp frame was shaking; not from sobbing? She looked a bit closer and realized that he indeed was sobbing, very quietly. Cautiously, she approached him, and then kneeled in front of him.

"James?" She tentatively reached out a hand. He pushed it away violently, flinching.

"James, what's wrong? What-" She looked around, confused. There were clothes everywhere. James' shirt lay carelessly on the floor, the buttons undone. His boxers, shoes, socks, and robe were not far away from it. He was only wearing his pants, apparently. She leaned closer.

"James, look at me, what happened??? You're hurt! Did someone do something to you??? What happened???" He only shook his head. Then, in a scratchy whisper, he said,

"I-I… can't tell you. They… they said if I told anyone, it would happen again, only… only worse." Lily's frown increased; now she was frustrated.

"James Potter, if you tell someone what happened, they can catch whoever did it, simple as that. Please tell me?" She tried in vain to make eye contact with him, folding his shirt between her hands again and again. She wasn't stupid; she was starting to have a faint idea what was going on here.

Barely standing the silence, she put a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to sound commanding. He jerked violently, crying out at her touch. She didn't take it away. After a bit of struggling, he gazed down, feeling defeated.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, in the forest after Herbology, okay? Just…" he shook off her hand, "just don't tell any of the guys." He stood rapidly, picking up his boxers, socks, and shoes. She was left kneeling on the floor, worriedly watching his retreating figure.

She stood once he was gone, and began making her way back to Gryffindor Tower, still holding his crumpled shirt; he had forgotten it.

%%^^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%^^%%

Lily was sharply brought awake the next morning by May, sitting on her stomach and whapping her face with a pillow.

"Wakey wakey, naughty Dottie! You got some 'splainin to do!!!" Lifting the purple sleeping mask she was wearing, Lily groaned upon seeing her best friend, bouncing excitedly. She was fully dressed, and probably had been for a great while now. Mary was just up, yawning sleepily at the foot of Lily's bed, still wearing her long floral nightgown. Lily groaned, sandwiching her head between her pillow. She could still hear May's muffled voice through the material.

"Ah ah ahhhh, you need to wake up, NOW. Don't you need to make yourself all purty for your man-friend?" Lily's eyes flew open, only to see May brandishing a shirt; a white, crumpled boy's Gryffindor shirt. James's shirt. She staggered, the previous night's events flooding back to her. May was still talking, she realized.

"See, Lils, the only reason that you would have James Potter's shirt is because you slept with him last night. It's really the only logical explanation. Now, FESS, before I make you with all the power of my evil Sexual Confession Goddesses!" She clapped her hands together, swaying them around in a prayer position, going 'ooooooh, woooooooo!' Lily groaned.

"May, you've got it all wrong, it wasn't like that at all." May cut her off again.

"Then why do you have his shirt? And why are your jimjams backwards?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Lily rolled her eyes.

"My jams are backward because I was out late last night on duty, and I barely had enough energy to get myself into them. And, well… James's shirt…" She delved into explanation. May's face slowly changed from skepticism, shock, disbelief, and confusion. Mary's expression stayed consistent, and when Lily was through, she looked all logical.

"Well, obviously something must have happened to him. He wouldn't be like that elsewise. But what…?" She trailed off, looking thoughtful. May hit her over the head with a pillow.

"Durr, something's happened to him, you tosspot, but he said he'd tell Lily in the woods today… Lil, make sure you spill EVERYTHING after." Lily looked unsure.

"But what if it's really private? No offense guys, you're my best mates, but what if I can't tell you?" Mary looked understanding.

"Well, that's perfectly fine, Lils, I'm sure we'll BOTH understand." She shot a look at May; she pouted.

"But-" Mary cut her off again.

"No buts. It's James's business, and Lily's, if he decides to tell her." May rolled her eyes, but eventually agreed.

End chapter one. Two will arrive soon, I assure you.