A/N: Hey, guys. This is just a short, one-shot ficlet that I wrote to clear my mind. It's definitely not great, but here it is.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Happy?
As The Icy Rain Fell
James stared at the piece of paper in his hands as the wind whipped around his body, making his robes flutter wildly. That was all it was, really. A piece of paper, with letters that formed words that formed sentences that formed paragraphs, which formed a letter that resulted in the worst day of his life.
He remembered getting the letter that morning at breakfast. It had looked like a normal letter, even if it had been carried by an unfamiliar brown barn owl, at the time. The Great Hall was full of laughter, and James himself was smiling and eating breakfast with his friends, like he did every morning. They were all looking forward to the Christmas holidays so that they could be with their families, with the exception of Sirius. He was looking forward to spending his Christmas vacation with his best friend James and his family. The barn owl had come in with the other owls, so nothing was out of the ordinary. At least, until James had opened it.
He remembered his reaction vividly, as he stood there unmoving by the lake on the far shore, near the Forbidden Forest. The merry voices around him had faded, and the edges of his vision had become blurry. At first, there was denial, that immediate no-this-has-to-be-a-joke reaction. Then, rereading the letter, he noticed the seal on the envelope, and the signature at the bottom. It was from the Ministry, no doubt about it.
His breath came in short gasps as he stared at the letter in shock. A hand gripped his shoulder, and he vaguely, as if he were watching from outside himself, heard Sirius ask him what was wrong. ~No~, James thought wildly. ~No, this can't be happening! ~ But it was. Looking up at his three friends, who looked back at him with concern, James felt lost and lonely for the first time in his life.
He fled.
That had been this morning at breakfast. Now, it was sometime past noon. He hadn't gone back inside, skipping all of his classes and lunch. Thankfully, Remus, Sirius, and Peter hadn't come looking for him. The idea of having to explain to them that his parents were dead would have been too much. He would have had too deal with Sirius' grief as well as his own.
All day, he had been standing beneath the great oak tree, on the far shore of the lake, next to the Forbidden Forest. It was mid-December, and the wind was icy cold and sharp, but James had no coat or scarf, and he didn't feel the cold. His own heart felt like ice. ~No more Christmas carols, or early morning fights, or mum's ginger bread cookies, or dad's guitar. It's . . . all gone. ~ James felt like a little child of six again, who had disobeyed his mother during a super-market expedition, wandering away from her side when she'd specifically told him to stay put. Only this time, there would be no "James Tristan Potter, what were you thinking!," no tears, or hugs. Because his neither his mother nor his father could come back.
An icy gale picked up, whipping the black wizards robes around his tall, muscular frame. The hazel eyes behind wire-frame glasses were devoid of emotion as they stared emptily at the letter. Then, in a fierce rush of violent grief and anger, James ripped the letter into tiny little pieces and tossed them toward the lake's surface, where the sudden gale picked them up and tossed them away. James stared after them until they were lost from his sight.
~If only they were simply words on paper . . . ~ he thought absently. But they weren't and they caused a lot of heartache and problems. Suddenly it seemed as if any task was too hard to do, and not worth fighting to accomplish. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto his knees. The motion took him just far enough forward that the waves lapped at his knees. The water was like sharp needles of ice, and sent feeling throughout his body. The realization dawned on him that he would never see his beloved parents again. ~And I never even got to say goodbye, ~ James thought mournfully.
A single, simple tear, one that held so much meaning, fell from a hazel eye, rolling slowly, almost carefully, down over a high cheek bone, over the cheek itself, and then flowed smoothly down the tight jaw that was determinedly holding back sobs. Another tear followed, and the damp trail they created glimmered faintly in the gray light.
Clouds were rolling in from the west, where, James acknowledged somewhere in his memory, the ocean rolled and pounded rocky shores. And it was by the lake on the far shore near the Forbidden Forest that James Tristan Potter stayed, kneeling, the rest of the day, looking into the cold gray depths of the lake. As if they were being called upon to express the emotions he felt for him, because he was afraid to do so, those clouds continued to move towards him, until they covered the Hogwarts grounds, sometime after dinner, when total darkness had fallen.
When, on the other side of the lake, the lights of the castle flickered on, twinkling and cheerful, the heavens opened up. The cold, bitter, icy winter rain fell in torrents, soaking James to the bone. Like an empty shell he knelt there, as a battle between grief and anger waged inside his heart, which was as cold as the rain that fell on him.
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Lily was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, curled up by the fire and reading a deliciously warm, sappy romance novel by Lynn Kurland. Sitting in a secluded corner where they wouldn't be noticed by too many, she saw three of the Marauders. They were deep in conversation, and they looked extremely worried. She wondered what they were talking about, and where the fourth, James, was.
Against a window, she heard the first pitter-patter of rain, before it started falling so hard it seemed as if the skies were howling in pain and anger. Lily smiled softly. She loved this kind of weather, especially when the rain fell as hard as it was now. Dashing upstairs to her dorm, she grabbed a sweater and a cloak. Pulling the sweater over her head, she stumbled out of the Tower and threw the cloak over her shoulders. Not caring that she might get caught, she ran toward the Entrance Hall and through the great doors, into the night.
Ever since she had been a little girl, Lily had loved hard, pouring rain. It was a chance for her to wash away all her troubles, and to feel free for a moment or two. When she had gotten her letter saying that she was a witch, instead of being ecstatic, she had been quiet and reserved. What would her parents have thought, finding out that their youngest daughter was a witch? Would they have been proud? Or would they have shunned her, like Petunia did? Her first night at Hogwarts, those seven years ago, after she had been sorted into Gryffindor, she had decided to go for a walk. She had ended up on the far shore of the lake near the Forbidden Forest. It had been a rainy night like this one, and since then, it had been her 'place' to go.
Now, she stepped outside and ran, feeling exuberant and free, towards her spot. The rain was soaking her, and before long the shocking cold faded into numbness. Reaching her destination, Lily let out a laugh, a purely joyful laugh, and tilted her head back to stare at the heavens. Extending her arms wide, as if to encompass life, she twirled around and around, still laughing.
And then tripped over her own feet, landing with a dull thud in the mud.
So *this* is where James had been all day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Something -a noise- jarred James out of his reverie. It sounded like . . . like laughter, laughter that was full of joy. Anger flared up, then jealousy. ~I want to be happy again, ~ he thought. Curiosity told him to look and see who was so happy, and who was hurting him more by too much happiness.
Turning around slowly, hazel eyes still empty and blank, he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. Lily Evans was twirling around in the rain, strands of dark, wet red hair flying around her head. She was laughing and looking up at the sky like it was all that was left in the world. Abruptly, mid-twirl, she caught sight of him, and tripped. Landing on her rear, she stared at him, like he was intruding. Thinking, James turned back to the lake.
Lately, he had noticed that Lily seemed . . . different from other girls. He had first started to notice her when he'd seen her in the Library, late one night, studying for a test in a far corner by herself. He knew that she was smart, quiet, and bookish. She didn't blush or giggle when he or Sirius were around. She seemed very sad and timid at times. James had begun to wonder about her. She had shown an amazing amount of temper once when she had seen Malfoy taunting a first year. He had also seen her, once, sitting in the common room reading. She had seemed so content, despite the fact that she seemed to have very few friends. He had begun to wonder what made her tick, what made her cry, what made her laugh. Sirius had teased him about it once, but James had just shrugged it off.
If he had been in a normal state of mind, James would have teased her endlessly about running around in the rain. Now, he merely looked at her for a moment or two, before turning away. Lily caught a glimpse of his eyes before he turned away, though. They were filled with such emptiness, an emptiness that covered up a tremendous pain. Hesitantly, she stepped toward him. Another step, then another, till she was standing just behind him.
"James?" she asked quietly. She looked down at him. He turned slowly to look back up at her. "Are you ok?" she asked. Stupid question.
"No, Lily, I'm not," he said. "And you care because . . .?" he asked. Lily sat down gingerly beside him. "You have got to be freezing," she murmured, taking off her own wet cloak and placing it around his shoulders. Despite its wetness, it was warm from her body heat. James didn't have the energy or heart to give it back to her.
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked. She couldn't see him very well at all, so she waved her wand and muttered, "Lumos," lighting the area up enough for her to be able to see his face. His body said he was tired, and his eyes were rimmed with red and a little puffy. The rain made it hard to see any evidence, but she suspected he'd been crying. ~James Potter, crying? ~ she thought. Must have been bad.
James sighed. The numbness and shock were wearing off now, and it was being replaced by pain. "I probably should, but I don't want to," he said in answer to her question. "Well," she said. "Think of me as a diary. I can't tell a soul, and it will make you feel better." James managed a faint smile. "I suppose . . ." Why was he telling this to Lily, whom he didn't know, and not Sirius? ~Because it feels right~ a voice in the back of his mind whispered. Too drained to think about it, he told her.
"I'm sorry," she said when he'd finished. Her voice, which he expected to be filled with sympathy and pity, held instead empathy and understanding. Looking at him and seeing the question in his gaze, she told him, "I lost my parents too, when I was seven." James sighed again. There was a simple and comfortable understanding in the air, and he didn't want to ruin it, even though it was completely out of place. "What do I do now?" he asked no one in particular. "You go to your friends," she said easily. "They'll help you."
He looked at her, studying her face. She was definitely pretty, if not beautiful. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wand and extinguished the light. Darkness flooded the area. "What about you?" he asked, not sure where the question had come from. She smiled a sad smile. "I'll do what I've always done. Live life as best I can." James asked, "Did you- do you- talk to friends about it?" she looked at him again. "No. I don't really trust anyone that much to think they'll understand," she said. She chose not to realize that she was sitting here telling James her secrets-some of them-, which implied that she trusted him.
James sighed again. "It hurts too much for me to cry anymore. And they lived good lives, albeit short ones."
"I'm cold," he said, more to himself than Lily, as if it were something he hadn't thought of before now. "How long have you been out here?" Lily asked, concern in her voice. "Since breakfast," he replied absently. She looked at him like he was crazy, before jumping up and saying, "You, Mr. Potter, are going to the Hospital Wing. You'll catch your death of cold if you stay out here any longer." Gripping him under his arms, she pulled him to his feet, a strong feat for anyone, considering James' size. And for the first time all day, James laughed.
"You sound like a mother hen," he said, chuckling. Then, instinctively, he pulled her to him in a hug. Burying his face in her hair, needing to feel warm again, he whispered, "Thank you," in her ear. Lily's first reaction was to clam up, because she wasn't used to being touched at all. So, she was stiff and more than a little confused. James felt the stiffness of her body, and pulled back. "What's wrong?" he asked, afraid he'd done something to hurt her. She shook her head, blushing. "It's nothing. I'm . . . I'm just not used to being touched is all."
He smiled at her, a true smile, that for some reason had her knees melting. His arms were still around her in that friendly hug, but in an instant it was as if something had turned the electricity on. James looked into her eyes, eyes that he couldn't see, but he knew were a vivid green. She looked at him, uncertain and afraid.
James, not thinking about what he was doing, was only aware of the girl in his arms that had offered him comfort when he'd felt like jumping into the lake and drowning himself. He dimly registered that this was insane; he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He leaned in, slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast she'd bolt. Somehow, he knew that she, Lily Evans, would change him drastically.
The slow descent of his head stopped for a moment. Quietly, he whispered, "I want to kiss you, Lily. And I don't know why." She heard the question in his voice, and it matched her feelings exactly. Letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, completely aware of every place their bodies touched, she stood there, not able to say anything. Then James's lips, so close to hers, descended those last 0.2 cm, and covered her mouth.
Lily had never been kissed before, but it seemed that James knew what he was doing. His lips, soft as silk, eased over hers in a tender exploration. She didn't pull away, but she didn't know how to respond, either. So she let him dominate the kiss. She felt his breath mingle with her own, felt the warmth of his hard body pressed against hers. Vaguely, she realized she'd only begun to talk to this boy- no, this *man*- this evening.
The rain, she realized with an unconscious smile, was still falling, but falling much more gently than it had been. "What's so funny?" James asked, pulling back. "The rain," she murmured softly. He smiled, and then leaned back in. He *liked* kissing this girl. It was different from the other occasional snogs he'd had in the past. This was gentle, where the others had been completely lustful, all wet and hard and fast, with tongues down throats. This was . . . this was sweet.
She didn't pull away. In fact, tentatively, she began to respond, moving her lips against his own. Gently, he guided her, showing her how to please him, and learning how to please her. His tongue traced her lips, asking for access to her mouth. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth to his, and allowed him inside.
As he dipped his tongue into the moist recess of her mouth, he nearly groaned. *This* was worth the pain and emptiness he'd spent the day in. She tasted completely foreign and oddly comfortable. Brushing her tongue with his, exploring how it felt to have her do the same, he kissed her, long, slow, and sweet, on that first night of their meeting. Pulling back, he kissed her once more on the mouth, and then kissed her forehead.
"What now?" she asked shakily. He laughed softly, regretting the things he'd lost and would never get back, but at the same time looking forward to the future, whatever it may be. "We live life, as best we can," he said.
A/N: There ya go! Tell me what you think. And I will be writing chapter 8 of 'Dreaming' ASAP, but something came up, and I don't know how long it will be before I can get it posted.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Happy?
As The Icy Rain Fell
James stared at the piece of paper in his hands as the wind whipped around his body, making his robes flutter wildly. That was all it was, really. A piece of paper, with letters that formed words that formed sentences that formed paragraphs, which formed a letter that resulted in the worst day of his life.
He remembered getting the letter that morning at breakfast. It had looked like a normal letter, even if it had been carried by an unfamiliar brown barn owl, at the time. The Great Hall was full of laughter, and James himself was smiling and eating breakfast with his friends, like he did every morning. They were all looking forward to the Christmas holidays so that they could be with their families, with the exception of Sirius. He was looking forward to spending his Christmas vacation with his best friend James and his family. The barn owl had come in with the other owls, so nothing was out of the ordinary. At least, until James had opened it.
He remembered his reaction vividly, as he stood there unmoving by the lake on the far shore, near the Forbidden Forest. The merry voices around him had faded, and the edges of his vision had become blurry. At first, there was denial, that immediate no-this-has-to-be-a-joke reaction. Then, rereading the letter, he noticed the seal on the envelope, and the signature at the bottom. It was from the Ministry, no doubt about it.
His breath came in short gasps as he stared at the letter in shock. A hand gripped his shoulder, and he vaguely, as if he were watching from outside himself, heard Sirius ask him what was wrong. ~No~, James thought wildly. ~No, this can't be happening! ~ But it was. Looking up at his three friends, who looked back at him with concern, James felt lost and lonely for the first time in his life.
He fled.
That had been this morning at breakfast. Now, it was sometime past noon. He hadn't gone back inside, skipping all of his classes and lunch. Thankfully, Remus, Sirius, and Peter hadn't come looking for him. The idea of having to explain to them that his parents were dead would have been too much. He would have had too deal with Sirius' grief as well as his own.
All day, he had been standing beneath the great oak tree, on the far shore of the lake, next to the Forbidden Forest. It was mid-December, and the wind was icy cold and sharp, but James had no coat or scarf, and he didn't feel the cold. His own heart felt like ice. ~No more Christmas carols, or early morning fights, or mum's ginger bread cookies, or dad's guitar. It's . . . all gone. ~ James felt like a little child of six again, who had disobeyed his mother during a super-market expedition, wandering away from her side when she'd specifically told him to stay put. Only this time, there would be no "James Tristan Potter, what were you thinking!," no tears, or hugs. Because his neither his mother nor his father could come back.
An icy gale picked up, whipping the black wizards robes around his tall, muscular frame. The hazel eyes behind wire-frame glasses were devoid of emotion as they stared emptily at the letter. Then, in a fierce rush of violent grief and anger, James ripped the letter into tiny little pieces and tossed them toward the lake's surface, where the sudden gale picked them up and tossed them away. James stared after them until they were lost from his sight.
~If only they were simply words on paper . . . ~ he thought absently. But they weren't and they caused a lot of heartache and problems. Suddenly it seemed as if any task was too hard to do, and not worth fighting to accomplish. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto his knees. The motion took him just far enough forward that the waves lapped at his knees. The water was like sharp needles of ice, and sent feeling throughout his body. The realization dawned on him that he would never see his beloved parents again. ~And I never even got to say goodbye, ~ James thought mournfully.
A single, simple tear, one that held so much meaning, fell from a hazel eye, rolling slowly, almost carefully, down over a high cheek bone, over the cheek itself, and then flowed smoothly down the tight jaw that was determinedly holding back sobs. Another tear followed, and the damp trail they created glimmered faintly in the gray light.
Clouds were rolling in from the west, where, James acknowledged somewhere in his memory, the ocean rolled and pounded rocky shores. And it was by the lake on the far shore near the Forbidden Forest that James Tristan Potter stayed, kneeling, the rest of the day, looking into the cold gray depths of the lake. As if they were being called upon to express the emotions he felt for him, because he was afraid to do so, those clouds continued to move towards him, until they covered the Hogwarts grounds, sometime after dinner, when total darkness had fallen.
When, on the other side of the lake, the lights of the castle flickered on, twinkling and cheerful, the heavens opened up. The cold, bitter, icy winter rain fell in torrents, soaking James to the bone. Like an empty shell he knelt there, as a battle between grief and anger waged inside his heart, which was as cold as the rain that fell on him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lily was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, curled up by the fire and reading a deliciously warm, sappy romance novel by Lynn Kurland. Sitting in a secluded corner where they wouldn't be noticed by too many, she saw three of the Marauders. They were deep in conversation, and they looked extremely worried. She wondered what they were talking about, and where the fourth, James, was.
Against a window, she heard the first pitter-patter of rain, before it started falling so hard it seemed as if the skies were howling in pain and anger. Lily smiled softly. She loved this kind of weather, especially when the rain fell as hard as it was now. Dashing upstairs to her dorm, she grabbed a sweater and a cloak. Pulling the sweater over her head, she stumbled out of the Tower and threw the cloak over her shoulders. Not caring that she might get caught, she ran toward the Entrance Hall and through the great doors, into the night.
Ever since she had been a little girl, Lily had loved hard, pouring rain. It was a chance for her to wash away all her troubles, and to feel free for a moment or two. When she had gotten her letter saying that she was a witch, instead of being ecstatic, she had been quiet and reserved. What would her parents have thought, finding out that their youngest daughter was a witch? Would they have been proud? Or would they have shunned her, like Petunia did? Her first night at Hogwarts, those seven years ago, after she had been sorted into Gryffindor, she had decided to go for a walk. She had ended up on the far shore of the lake near the Forbidden Forest. It had been a rainy night like this one, and since then, it had been her 'place' to go.
Now, she stepped outside and ran, feeling exuberant and free, towards her spot. The rain was soaking her, and before long the shocking cold faded into numbness. Reaching her destination, Lily let out a laugh, a purely joyful laugh, and tilted her head back to stare at the heavens. Extending her arms wide, as if to encompass life, she twirled around and around, still laughing.
And then tripped over her own feet, landing with a dull thud in the mud.
So *this* is where James had been all day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Something -a noise- jarred James out of his reverie. It sounded like . . . like laughter, laughter that was full of joy. Anger flared up, then jealousy. ~I want to be happy again, ~ he thought. Curiosity told him to look and see who was so happy, and who was hurting him more by too much happiness.
Turning around slowly, hazel eyes still empty and blank, he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. Lily Evans was twirling around in the rain, strands of dark, wet red hair flying around her head. She was laughing and looking up at the sky like it was all that was left in the world. Abruptly, mid-twirl, she caught sight of him, and tripped. Landing on her rear, she stared at him, like he was intruding. Thinking, James turned back to the lake.
Lately, he had noticed that Lily seemed . . . different from other girls. He had first started to notice her when he'd seen her in the Library, late one night, studying for a test in a far corner by herself. He knew that she was smart, quiet, and bookish. She didn't blush or giggle when he or Sirius were around. She seemed very sad and timid at times. James had begun to wonder about her. She had shown an amazing amount of temper once when she had seen Malfoy taunting a first year. He had also seen her, once, sitting in the common room reading. She had seemed so content, despite the fact that she seemed to have very few friends. He had begun to wonder what made her tick, what made her cry, what made her laugh. Sirius had teased him about it once, but James had just shrugged it off.
If he had been in a normal state of mind, James would have teased her endlessly about running around in the rain. Now, he merely looked at her for a moment or two, before turning away. Lily caught a glimpse of his eyes before he turned away, though. They were filled with such emptiness, an emptiness that covered up a tremendous pain. Hesitantly, she stepped toward him. Another step, then another, till she was standing just behind him.
"James?" she asked quietly. She looked down at him. He turned slowly to look back up at her. "Are you ok?" she asked. Stupid question.
"No, Lily, I'm not," he said. "And you care because . . .?" he asked. Lily sat down gingerly beside him. "You have got to be freezing," she murmured, taking off her own wet cloak and placing it around his shoulders. Despite its wetness, it was warm from her body heat. James didn't have the energy or heart to give it back to her.
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked. She couldn't see him very well at all, so she waved her wand and muttered, "Lumos," lighting the area up enough for her to be able to see his face. His body said he was tired, and his eyes were rimmed with red and a little puffy. The rain made it hard to see any evidence, but she suspected he'd been crying. ~James Potter, crying? ~ she thought. Must have been bad.
James sighed. The numbness and shock were wearing off now, and it was being replaced by pain. "I probably should, but I don't want to," he said in answer to her question. "Well," she said. "Think of me as a diary. I can't tell a soul, and it will make you feel better." James managed a faint smile. "I suppose . . ." Why was he telling this to Lily, whom he didn't know, and not Sirius? ~Because it feels right~ a voice in the back of his mind whispered. Too drained to think about it, he told her.
"I'm sorry," she said when he'd finished. Her voice, which he expected to be filled with sympathy and pity, held instead empathy and understanding. Looking at him and seeing the question in his gaze, she told him, "I lost my parents too, when I was seven." James sighed again. There was a simple and comfortable understanding in the air, and he didn't want to ruin it, even though it was completely out of place. "What do I do now?" he asked no one in particular. "You go to your friends," she said easily. "They'll help you."
He looked at her, studying her face. She was definitely pretty, if not beautiful. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wand and extinguished the light. Darkness flooded the area. "What about you?" he asked, not sure where the question had come from. She smiled a sad smile. "I'll do what I've always done. Live life as best I can." James asked, "Did you- do you- talk to friends about it?" she looked at him again. "No. I don't really trust anyone that much to think they'll understand," she said. She chose not to realize that she was sitting here telling James her secrets-some of them-, which implied that she trusted him.
James sighed again. "It hurts too much for me to cry anymore. And they lived good lives, albeit short ones."
"I'm cold," he said, more to himself than Lily, as if it were something he hadn't thought of before now. "How long have you been out here?" Lily asked, concern in her voice. "Since breakfast," he replied absently. She looked at him like he was crazy, before jumping up and saying, "You, Mr. Potter, are going to the Hospital Wing. You'll catch your death of cold if you stay out here any longer." Gripping him under his arms, she pulled him to his feet, a strong feat for anyone, considering James' size. And for the first time all day, James laughed.
"You sound like a mother hen," he said, chuckling. Then, instinctively, he pulled her to him in a hug. Burying his face in her hair, needing to feel warm again, he whispered, "Thank you," in her ear. Lily's first reaction was to clam up, because she wasn't used to being touched at all. So, she was stiff and more than a little confused. James felt the stiffness of her body, and pulled back. "What's wrong?" he asked, afraid he'd done something to hurt her. She shook her head, blushing. "It's nothing. I'm . . . I'm just not used to being touched is all."
He smiled at her, a true smile, that for some reason had her knees melting. His arms were still around her in that friendly hug, but in an instant it was as if something had turned the electricity on. James looked into her eyes, eyes that he couldn't see, but he knew were a vivid green. She looked at him, uncertain and afraid.
James, not thinking about what he was doing, was only aware of the girl in his arms that had offered him comfort when he'd felt like jumping into the lake and drowning himself. He dimly registered that this was insane; he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He leaned in, slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast she'd bolt. Somehow, he knew that she, Lily Evans, would change him drastically.
The slow descent of his head stopped for a moment. Quietly, he whispered, "I want to kiss you, Lily. And I don't know why." She heard the question in his voice, and it matched her feelings exactly. Letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, completely aware of every place their bodies touched, she stood there, not able to say anything. Then James's lips, so close to hers, descended those last 0.2 cm, and covered her mouth.
Lily had never been kissed before, but it seemed that James knew what he was doing. His lips, soft as silk, eased over hers in a tender exploration. She didn't pull away, but she didn't know how to respond, either. So she let him dominate the kiss. She felt his breath mingle with her own, felt the warmth of his hard body pressed against hers. Vaguely, she realized she'd only begun to talk to this boy- no, this *man*- this evening.
The rain, she realized with an unconscious smile, was still falling, but falling much more gently than it had been. "What's so funny?" James asked, pulling back. "The rain," she murmured softly. He smiled, and then leaned back in. He *liked* kissing this girl. It was different from the other occasional snogs he'd had in the past. This was gentle, where the others had been completely lustful, all wet and hard and fast, with tongues down throats. This was . . . this was sweet.
She didn't pull away. In fact, tentatively, she began to respond, moving her lips against his own. Gently, he guided her, showing her how to please him, and learning how to please her. His tongue traced her lips, asking for access to her mouth. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth to his, and allowed him inside.
As he dipped his tongue into the moist recess of her mouth, he nearly groaned. *This* was worth the pain and emptiness he'd spent the day in. She tasted completely foreign and oddly comfortable. Brushing her tongue with his, exploring how it felt to have her do the same, he kissed her, long, slow, and sweet, on that first night of their meeting. Pulling back, he kissed her once more on the mouth, and then kissed her forehead.
"What now?" she asked shakily. He laughed softly, regretting the things he'd lost and would never get back, but at the same time looking forward to the future, whatever it may be. "We live life, as best we can," he said.
A/N: There ya go! Tell me what you think. And I will be writing chapter 8 of 'Dreaming' ASAP, but something came up, and I don't know how long it will be before I can get it posted.