Damn it all, Lily thought. Damn it, damn it, damn damn damn.

She was damning her irrationally wild and sudden hunger. She was damning the ungodly hour that she was conscious in. She was damning her bed for being so irresistibly cozy and warm--but not really, for if her bed were in hell, where would she return to after her midnight (give or take an hour or two) food run, which was now inevitable? The cold floor that her bare feet now pressed against? Surely not. Her pajamas were less than warm, her pants were baggy, thin material, her tank top not covering her neck, shoulders, and arms, and hardly a comfort to her stomach and chest. She shivered from the tips of her auburn hair to the unpainted toenails on her frosted feet. She damned her slippers for residing at the very bottom of her trunk. Her feet told her to stop and get them, her stomach to move as quickly as possible to to kitchens, regardless of cold toes. She decided her stomach was suffering the most, and so ignored the shivers, making her way down the spiral staircase, into the common room, out the portrait hole, and into the curfew-forbidden hallways. Sucks to the curfew, I'm hungry. Filled with fear anyway, she made her way to the secret passage way she knew of, but never used, and silently thanked James Potter. He had shown her this way the year before, hoping for a romantic situation; needless to say, Lily crushed his hopes with her skepticism, scolding, and (though it went unvoiced) jealousy. How did Potter know so much about the secret corridors? The passage came out directly next to the portrait of fruit containing a weakly ticklish pear. Ah, the kitchens. Some of the elves were asleep on the cruelly stone floor, but some were still running around cleaning.

"Would Mistress Lily like a midnight snack?"

"Please and thank you."

She devoured the half loaf of bread given to her, ate the leftover lasagna like it was her last meal, and poured the soup down her throat so fast it burned her tongue, until she couldn't enjoy the the small bit of cake. She ate it anyway, of course.

Now her main complaint was that of the cold of the stone floors on her toes, and the frigid air of the castle on her arms, and... and... she was so... tired. What was she doing, again? How did she get out of bed? What were those curious yellow orbs near by? Were they making the purring noise? It sounded nice. It made Lily want to sleep... But where did her bed go?

Whoosh

The sound of the cloak closing around her didn't register as much as the warmth of the body she was now inches away from. It smelled good, warm... "Lily? Are you even awake?"

But she was, after the voice sounded, at least. "Potter? Where did you come from?"

"Behind you," he whispered.

"I don't--" "Shh!" James pointed at the cat down the corridor, at the kitten spy newly dubbed Mrs. Norris, though for the life of him, James would never know why. Lily understood and watched silently as the boy next to her took out... a map? and he cursed under his breath, however, Lily was in close enough proximity that she heard his "Damn it all" and laughed at the irony. Though what was ironic about it? She'd forgotten.

"Filch is coming this way, we have to hide." Lily nodded her head absently, perhaps she wasn't totally awake. He led her--still under that odd, translucent cloak that smelt of enclosed spaces, which, to sleepy Lily, was quite a normal smell to compare to--to a broom closet. James silently had planned the tight squeeze, and Lily, if she were fully awake, might've known that. They stood facing each other, her breath on his neck, his on her head, her bare feet were slightly overlapping with his sock covered feet, her chest was pressing against his, though he pretended it wasn't.

"You're freezing," James said, for he could feel that. He would give her completely the invisibility cloak, but he liked looking at her, and he'd much rather just take her into her arms. "And you're so warm," she said, graciously falling into his arms and wrapping her own around his back. She rested her face on his warm chest, and very nearly fell completely asleep.

He spoke as if she was fully asleep, and she only vaguely registered the voice.

"I love you so much, Lily," he said, the pain evident in his voice to anyone fully conscious.

"Mmm, I know. Yes, I love you too," She responded. He knew it was just sleeplessness, but his heart gave a start. He knew it was wrong to keep her in the closet any longer, his conscience and his broken heart wouldn't let him. But he couldn't help taking a little advantage of her half consciousness, he put a small kiss on her lips, then pushed her out the door, and sent her to the common room to go to bed. He let the tears fall.

She knew to put one foot in front of the other, she knew where to point them, she didn't feel like thinking of anything else, everything was so... heavy; so very thick, she couldn't think if she wanted to. So intense was her state of half-consciousness, that by the time consciousness lacked all together, she hardly remembered anything from the journey. She remembered the taste of bread on her lips, she remembered the cold stone floor on her toes. She remembered a different taste on her lips, something warm beneath her toes... if she could only remember what.

Author's note: Make my day, please review.