When Lily had received her acceptance letter from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland she'd been ecstatic. Over the moon. Brimming with awed enthusiasm.

A month into her studies, there were still frequently moments when she felt both awe and enthusiasm.

She definitely felt like she was where she was supposed to be. She was in her element, prepared to work hard to succeed, ready to give it 110%.

But there was little glamour in the 9 to 5 grind of classes and god once the weekend rolled in Lily was ready to collapse from exhaustion – and that was before tackling all the piled up homework.

And there were moments when she seriously wondered if she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Musical theatre was her dream, but it was a very ambitious discipline. One that demanded developing her skills broadly across different fields. She had lessons in acting, singing, voice and dancing, and then there was all the theory…

Lily sighed. The dancing, in particular, was proving to be her weak area. It was the field she felt most insecure in – and for a good reason. She didn't have two left feet or anything as dire as that. Lily had simply never been an athletic person and was now suffering from her inexperience.

Which was why she was still on campus on a Monday evening after her lessons had ended, heading towards the dance studio.

There were several, of course, but one in particular was reserved for the use of the students at all hours.

Lily opened the door – and froze in the doorway.

The studio was already occupied. Of course, it was obvious that in a school this big there would be plenty of people wanting to rehearse after hours. It had been silly of her to expect to find the room empty.

Still, Lily didn't slink away from the doorstep. She stood there, captivated, staring at the lone male dancer going through a solo routine. He was dancing ballet, his movements were big and sharp and bold and male. As was his body – he wasn't wearing a shirt so Lily caught an eyeful of toned biceps and broad back and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

It was more than his physique, though. It was the fluidity of his movements, the perfect control he had over his body, the emotion… Lily was caught between admiration and deep aching jealousy.

He launched into a jump, made a sharp turn – and came to a stumbling halt as he noticed Lily in the doorway. The sudden, jerky stop had his glasses sliding down his nose.

"Sorry," Lily said, offering him a sheepish smile. "I was hoping to find the studio empty. I didn't mean to disturb you – or even stay here to gawk."

The dancer pushed his glasses up his nose, his cheeks a little flushed.

"It's fine," he hurried to reply. "I was just surprised. Come in. There's plenty of room if you want to rehearse."

Lily bit her lip, hesitating for a full second. "Okay, thanks."

She stepped into the studio and deposited her bag by the mirrored wall. She kicked off her shoes and shrugged off her sweater.

She stole a glance at the dancer, noting for the first time his messy dark hair. He was running his hand through it, and had found himself a t-shirt from somewhere.

"You have to promise me one thing," Lily said, as she began to stretch and warm up.

"What's that?" he asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Promise not to laugh at me."

"Of course I won't laugh at you. Why would I?"

"Because you're obviously a dancing major – and you dance great. I don't even know what I'm doing half the time."

"We all start from somewhere," he said, sounding sincere. Then he grinned, the expression transforming his whole face and making Lily's heart skip a beat. "You should've seen me when I started. It wasn't pretty."

"I'll take your word for it, though I find it hard to believe after just seeing you dance," Lily said.

"It's all about practise, love. You'll get there."

The dancer smiled at her. Lily couldn't help smiling back.

Odd, how reassuring the words of a perfect stranger could be.

"Thanks." Lily straightened herself and turned to face him. "I'm Lily by the way, Lily Evans."

"Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm James Potter."

"And you're a dancing major?"

"Yeah. You?" James slanted her an inquisitive look.

"Musical theatre," Lily replied.

"Amazing. You're a triple threat then." He flashed her another grin.

Lily laughed. "Hopefully. One day." She paused. "If I ever nail the dancing," she added, her voice wry with sarcasm.

"I can give you pointers, if you want. I mean, I only really have personal experience with ballet and jazz but, you know, I can try to help?"

"Well I'm pretty much a beginner, so any help would be welcome. I don't want to trouble you, though, I'm sure you must be busy…" Lily trailed off and bit her lip.

"Nah," James replied quickly. Then he blushed and mussed up his hair. "I mean yeah, I'm busy, but I'm kinda already tutoring my friend. He's majoring in acting but they're learning the basics of ballet in his movement lessons so I've been giving him pointers once a week. Wouldn't be any trouble to squeeze you in."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'd be happy to help."

Lily studied him and weighed the pros and cons of the offer. She would never be a ballerina, but surely getting some tutoring wouldn't hurt. Besides, he seemed nice and friendly – and really, really fit.

"It's a deal then," she told him, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. "You got your phone with you?"

"Sure, one sec," he replied, and rushed towards a backpack discarded in a corner of the room.

Lily watched him as he walk back towards her, looking down at his phone.

How many years had he practised, to have such unconscious grace even when he was just walking? How much of it was innate talent? Could she ever learn to move like that?

He stopped in front of her and looked up.

For the first time, Lily noticed his eyes: bright and hazel and looking a little sheepish.

He offered his phone to her and Lily quickly put in her number before handing the phone back.

"Let me know when and where you're tutoring your friend next."

"Will do," he promised.

Silence lapsed for a moment. James decided to busy himself by putting his phone away.

"Would you like for me to try and help you now, or would you rather practise alone? I can leave, if you feel uncomfortable."

She did feel a little uncomfortable – mostly just nerves, to be honest. Dancing in class was one thing but doing it here, one on one and in front of someone most likely aiming to become a professional dancer was a different story altogether. Still… It probably would be really helpful.

"No, no. You were here first. Umm. Well, there's a routine we've been trying to learn and I can't seem to get it right, and if you could help…" she glanced at him. "Do you mind? I mean you have practise of your own, I'm sure."

"It can wait," he reassured her. He gestured towards the centre of the room and beamed at her.

And somehow, her nervousness slipped away and she stood a little straighter.

His eyes were warm when they met hers.

"Let's see what you've got."