James Potter is asleep in the Gryffindor common room.
Lily had crept through the porthole entrance late on that Friday night, after a discussion with Professor Slughorn that took far longer than Lily had anticipated – now it was late, she was tired, and she could still catch a whiff of that lingering crystallised pineapple smell.
With the intention of barreling straight into her four-poster bed (for it has been a long week) Lily heads straight towards the entrance to the girls' dormitory – before getting a view of the boy lying in front of the fire.
It is James – she can tell by his hair. He is breathing deeply, slowly, evenly – he looks far more peaceful than he has for weeks, ever since his father's death. His chest rises and falls, his long lashes casting a shadow over his cheekbones.
Lily circles back in front of him, making sure that her footsteps are soft and feather-light.
His face is pressed into a cushion on the sofa, his glasses askew and his lips parted slightly.
He looks so – he looks like the real James Potter, how he looks without anyone around him, how he looks when he's in private, when he's not putting up a front for anyone else. This is James Potter, and the notion brings Lily to draw closer to kneel in front of him and watch.
Lily, this is weird. You are watching your friend sleep. This is weird behaviour.
But he is so entrancing, and Lily raises a finger and traces it softly down James' face. His eyelids flutter, and his lips turn up slightly.
Lily, this is beyond mental.
This time, Lily lifts her hand slowly, and runs it through his gorgeous, messy hair – Oh Merlin, his hair is so nice – and before she can think better of it – because Lily is often impulsive – presses her own lips to his.
Oh, his lips. They're slightly chapped but warm, and it's a sensation that Lily is completely unfamiliar with, but it gives her a pleasant shiver, right down her spine.
Lily backs away now – Merlin, she just kissed one of her closest, unconscious friends – Dear God, he'll be so mad at her right now – and she stumbles, almost falling right into the flickering flames – and instead tumbles to the floor in a heap – Lily-style.
'Lily?'
And it's like all her nightmares have come true.
James has lifted his head, staring at her with a curious expression on his handsome features, his voice deep and throaty from waking. His eyes look slightly foggy - how long had he been sleeping, anyway? Merlin, he must have been so tired.
'I'm sorry for waking you,' Lily babbles, struggling to her feet and brushing her skirt. She shuts her eyes for a moment, just to collect herself. Opens them. 'I'm going up now…' and she gestures vaguely towards the girls' dorm, and finds herself apologising again. 'I am really sorry – you've been working so hard this week, please go back to sleep – I was never here-' and as she speaks, she trips over her own foot and lands on the carpet again.
For the love of Merlin-
But James doesn't laugh. Of course he doesn't. He's James bloody Potter – gloriously perfect through all his faults. Lily peers up at him through her mess of hair - he just looks bemused, his face blank.
'Lily – maybe I was dreaming, but did you – kiss me?' His voice falters, and Lily's heart breaks at the confusion evident in his voice.
'Oh – um that – yeah, I did – sorry – uh, well, good night-' and before she can say or do anything more embarrassing, she hurries up to her dorm, blushing furiously and cursing her very existence, leaving James sitting upright on the couch, shell-shocked.
He presses his fingers to his lips, and gives a short, surprised, ecstatic laugh at the beautiful miracle that is Lily Evans.