Thank you very much to all reviewers of my previous story. Even if I didn't personally reply to all of them, I was touched. Now let's get to what you're really here for.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's characters. As if you need telling.
Lily and Michael stumbled into the Heads' common room, his hand on her back, under her shirt, and her hands buried in his hair. His blonde, course hair . . . nothing like Potter's.
Startled by her last thought, Lily pulled away abruptly. Michael, not really getting the hint, moved on to Lily's jaw. That is, until he saw James Potter himself over Lily's shoulder, looking at them in silent rage.
This time, Michael jumped back, alarmed. Lily looked at him strangely. It's not like he can read my thoughts. Wait, no. Not my thoughts. I didn't think them on purpose.
Michael made a strangled sound and gestured vaguely to the space behind Lily. She turned around and her frown instantly deepened. Michael had never gotten over his ridiculous fear of Potter. Honestly, it wasn't like he was dangerous, just a little ill-tempered sometimes. Well, only certain times really, like when he saw Lily with other guys. She wished he would just get over his strange possessiveness. She was seventeen after all. She could date and kiss and do whatever with whomever, despite what he seemed to think about "protecting her honor."
Lily kissed Michael one last time and bade him goodnight. She watched his very not-James Potter's bum exit the portrait hole. Damnit, those mutinous thoughts were going to be the death of her.
As soon as the portrait swung back into place, she turned on her heal to face James.
"I thought you were going to be out with Sirius tonight. You told me you would be gone for a while," spat Lily, still fuming with irritation.
"Oh. so you were waiting for me to be vacant so you could use the Heads' rooms for . . . for . . . stuff . . . with Michael." James started out in a rage to match Lily's, but that last bit seemed painful for him to utter.
"Yes! I mean, no! Why the hell does is matter, Potter? It's not as if you don't do the same with random girls when I'm not around!"
James let out a breath, calming himself before slumping down on the couch. "Actually," a pause, "I don't."
Lily snorted a little in disbelief. "Whatever, Potter. It's your fault Michael left either way. The poor bloke is scared shitless of you." Here, James looked away a guiltily. "Seriously, what did you say to him after he asked me out? Don't look so surprised. I found out from Remus that you have little 'talks' with anyone who expresses interest in me."
James began to protest, but Lily cut him off before he could start. "So tell me, what kind of crap about hexed-off man-bits did you spew this time?"
James stared at the fire, looking like he was deciding something. "Nothing, Evans. I didn't threaten your boyfriend. . . . not this time."
"Po—"
"No Lily, let me say it. I didn't even have my wand with me when I ran into him. Well, he ran into me, really. He was too busy staring at you to be aware of anything else, including my very solid leg." James cringed at how familiar that sounded. He unknowingly described himself, never noticing anything but her.
Lily waited. If he was willing to explain, she might as well hear it. But only because she was genuinely curious about his motives, not as a courtesy to him. Merlin knew he didn't deserve it after all he put her through. Well, used to put her through. Which she may or may not have missed the second he stopped.
James took a breath and plowed on. "He looked up at me. All scared and stuff. I swear, that prick doesn't have an ounce of backbone, you deserve someone tha—"
He stopped his sentence immediately after catching sight of the look on her face. She was losing interest and she was losing her patience.
"Well I told him not to worry about watching himself around me. And that I hadn't even asked you out all year. I told him that I had given up those tactics and that even though I love you, I couldn't—" again, James stopped abruptly, but this time of his own accord. His eyes were wide as he stared at Lily, not absorbing a word she said.
Lily gave a frustrated huff. "James Potter! If you think there is any excuse for behaving that way, regardless of whether you –hold it. You . . . you what?"
Lily's breathing became shallow. James said nothing, still staring wide-eyed at her.
"Potter? . . . . Potter! James!" Still nothing.
She walked over to him. He looked a little frightened and little nervous.
A whisper, "James."
His eyes finally met hers, searching.
Lily never found out if he saw what he was looking for, because leaned towards her and caught her lips in a kiss that lasted about four seconds before he broke away, mumbled "sorry" and slammed his bedroom door behind him.
A closed-mouth kiss, Lily mentally whined, as she slumped down in front of the fire.
After 30 seconds of contemplation (because, really, that's all it took), Lily left to go end certain things with certain people and finish one thing in particular with a certain James Potter. After all, Lily wasn't fooling anyone, not even herself.
But a closed-mouth, four-second kiss? Surely, she could coax something more out of him if she played her cards right.