Lily headed for her dorms with a vague sense of irritation buzzing in her head. She had met Snape for the hundredth time tonight, and for the hundredth time she asked herself why she even bothered trying to salvage whatever she could from their failing relationship. Sure, they had been friends since childhood (best friends, at that), but these past few days she couldn't be further apart from him. These days, against her wishes, he tended to dabble in dark magic, and that absolutely infuriated her. Part of her blamed that for their drift apart.

What an absolute git!, she thought to herself as she stormed up the stairway and made her way towards the Fat Lady portrait that stood guard at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. For a split second, Lily glanced upwards at one of the openings in the tower and concluded that she had stayed out too late with Snape. She would have to cut their meeting short the next time she met with him (if she ever did again, a small part of her thought). She would also have to hurry and return to her dorm soon, or else Filch would catch her and slap another detention on her wrist.

As she approached, the Fat Lady perched up with a faint look of disapproval etched onto her features.

"Craggy Ventures," Lily replied before she could hear any reprimands from the Fat Lady for being out too late. She rubbed the sleepiness away from her eyes as the portrait swung open to allow her entry and she stepped in quickly, only to spot a lone figure looming above the fireplace.

James Potter.

The first thing she noticed was that his hair was ruffled in a way that suggested he had been laying on the couch in the Common Room for too long. His arms were crossed and he was scowling at the fire as if something had been worrying him, an oddity that only she would spot, courtesy of all the time they've been spending together recently. Lily stared for a few, long moments pondering whether it would be a brilliant idea to sneak past him when James suddenly shifted and turned towards her direction. His eyes widened with recognition before his face flushed with the faintest sign of relief for a few moments. Relief?

"Evans," James said, curt as always, though lacking in the mirth he normally greeted her with.

"Potter," she replied in a tone that was one part malice and two parts amusement as she raised an eyebrow, not knowing what to expect of him, especially this late at night.

"Out shagging that Snivellus git, again, yeah?" James said in an accusatory tone as he tilted his head slightly to the side. His glasses flickered with the reflection of the fire not three feet away from him.

Lily sighed. "No, Potter, I was not out on an illicit night with Snape," she hissed, her temper flaring. "Even if I was, I don't see what that has to do with you."

"I don't see why you keep insisting on a friendship with Snivellus, I really don't," James said, completely avoiding the latter of what Lily had just said. "His friends might as well be Death Eaters, he treats you horribly and the git, himself, indulges in the Dark Arts. Half the school knows it, when will you?"

Lily, however, was having none of it. "Snape," she reiterated, trying to get it through his thick skull that she would not tolerate a nickname as god-awful as Snivellus, "promised, me he wasn't, and I trust him. Why are you even still awake? It's 2 in the bloody morning and everyone else has gone to bed."

"'Couldn't sleep."

"'Couldn't sleep my foot. You were waiting on me."

"So bloody what if I was? I'm not the one out shagging Slytherins that would leave me in a ditch if You-Know-Who willed it."

"You-Know-Who? YOU-KNOW-BLOODY-WHO?!" Lily seethed, balling her fists as she felt fury build up in her chest. "I'm not the one acting as if spending a night out with a bloke in another house is the end of the world. Merlin, why do you have be such a git! I'm not even your bloody girlfriend, you should sod off and mind your own business."

"I would mind my own business if it weren't so suspicious that you skive off your friends to spend a night with a Death Eater."

You do this with your friends four times a bloody week, why is it only suspicious when I do it? she said. Or she would have said, if James' hand hadn't gone up to ruffle his hair the way he always did. Why did she suddenly find this attractive? When did she start finding this attractive? Most importantly, why did it only occur to her, now, of all the bloody times she could have realized it.

Lily simply bit her bottom lip softly and crossed her arms in frustration. How unfair it was that he could probably come up with a hundred lines of argument when she couldn't even bloody think right now. "I'm heading to bed," she declared, tossing her fiery red hair over her shoulder as she made her way to the staircase leading up to the Girls' Dormitory.

Rather, she would have, if James hadn't gone and grabbed her wrist to stop her for whatever reason. How fucking dare he! Lily yanked her arm back instinctively, causing James to lose his balance and stumble over towards her direction; and just like that, as if this moment between them had been just one of many scenes in the many movies and books that Lily had occasionally enjoyed, James' lips closed the distance between them and landed so comically and perfectly on Lily's.

Lily's cheeks went redder than her hair was, and for a few precious moments, Lily Evans froze as her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. Here was James Potter, his delicious lips so blissfully pressed against hers. Here was Lily Evans, the space of her breath shared by the breath of a bloke she didn't even know she fancied. Here was Lily and James, and for the space of three seconds (wherein it felt like the world had frozen for them and only them), everything was absolutely perfect and —

…No.

Lily shoved James away and turned to the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency and cheeks many shades redder than her was.

"Lily! Wait!"

But Lily didn't even stop to wave goodbye. She stormed up the stairs and into her dorm, not even bothering to try to quiet herself in spite of the danger of waking up all of Gryffindor Tower. Without hesitation, she entered her room and leapt into her bed and buried her face into a pillow in a desperate attempt to quell the way her heart seemed to leap with a fleeting, fresh sense of bliss; a feeling that began to frighten her the more intense it became.

Why, why, why on Earth did her heart have to do such stupid things like swoon at the likes of James Potter? For three bloody seconds, all of her walls came tumbling down and she felt herself doing the unimaginable: melting in the arms of James Potter. It was as if the last six years of resentment for James Potter had never existed. It was as if… she actually fancied him, and she loathed that idea, and she embraced that idea, but most of all, she would have given the world for that not to be true right now.


Lily remembered the-day-that-shall-not-be-named in scattered thoughts and memories laced with so much longing that it felt painful. She recalled the taste of his lips and how they tasted so much like, well, him (no other word could better express it than that) when she applied lipstick in the morning. She remembered how tempting his eyes looked as the flames of the hearth danced in the whites of his eyes. Fantasies of him came to her time and time again that she felt herself drained by the constant desire to have James Potter and his lips and his hands anywhere, anywhere on her. Fantasies of him pinning her against a wall or otherwise being pulled by the collar of his shirt filled her mind to the brink, and the way she imagined it would feel if his hands were to travel down the length of her body and settle on her loins, pulling her ever so closer to him. She felt herself shiver at the thought…

She whimpered and pouted her lip pleadingly before James Sodding Potter gave in and kissed her, finally kissed her and quenched the need that every atom in her body seemed to exert; a need for him, a need for his lips against her skin, a need for his hands upon her hips, anywhere, as long as it was James Potter doing something to her and only her…

Such thoughts haunted Lily Evans as she went through her day in melodramatic agony. More than once she caught herself day-dreaming of him, biting her lip with desire and wishing, longing, yearning, needing James Potter in any way, as long as it was him and—

It was a wonder how she got through the day.

It was an even greater wonder how she'd get through the rest of the day, because she still had her evening patrol with one of the other Gryffindor prefects (or the Head Boy, James Potter, a part of her half wished and half didn't). Merlin. How was she going to survive?

The tension was getting to her and she felt utterly and completely exhausted. Why had she kissed him? Of course, it hadn't been her fault at all… But why had it happened? Of all the times it could've happened, why bloody now? It was absurd, it was ridiculous, (it was everything she wished for) and part of the tension just made her bloody want him even more. The things she'd give just to have him here, so that she could shove him back and pin him against the wall and just bloody snog him right then and there, and part of her was utterly convinced that, had he really been here, she would really have done it. Bloody hell. What was wrong with her?

Groaning, Lily dragged herself up the staircase leading to the Girls' Dormitory and opened the door to her dorm with a flick of her wand, levitating all of her books along with her and into the trunk she stored them in. For a precious few moments, she allowed herself time to rest and half despised, half relished the fact that James Sodding Potter, even after a long day of sheer angst, was still on her mind. His lips, his arms, his jawline and the bloody way she could feel the stubble on his fine face against her skin even when she couldn't see it. She could remember how his hands felt against her skin and she could just imagine the way he'd groan if she were to climb onto him, one leg on either side of him, as her hands gripped onto his shoulder before she leaned down to snog him…

Hoot.

Lily raised her head in surprise at the sound that had broken her train of thought and blinked at the owl that waited, perched on her windowsill, a scroll held in its beak. Lily fished into her pockets for a few spare knuts and handed them to the owl in gratitude, accepting the scroll and unrolling the parchment that she had been expecting: the listing of who was partnered with who (she had known tonight was her night for patrol for sure, but she hadn't yet known who the partners were).

What git would I have to endure a night with tonight, Lily thought, rolling her eyes as she unrolled the scroll completely and scanned the list for who was—

Oh, Merlin.

Beside her name on the time slot tonight was the name she half anticipated, half dreaded:

James Potter.


Lily awoke with a start and immediately glanced at the clock suspended against the stone wall of her room with a fleeting sense of panic. She was twenty-four minutes late for patrol duties with the one and only James Potter. Shit. If she knew James Potter (and make no mistake, she did, and would wager ten galleons on her word), then James Potter would never let her hear the end of it.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, went through her head as she hastened to get out of bed and grab one of the hair ties sitting on her vanity desk. She had, after all, stolen a glance at herself in the mirror hanging against her door while on a rush to meet the boy she'd give anything not to see, and she concluded that she looked like absolute rubbish.

A million people would have said otherwise, but she heeded none of them as she practically stormed across the Common Room, absolutely refusing to stop for anybody as she rushed to not embarrass herself even further by being even more late than she was already. She wouldn't even stop when her best friend, Emma, tried to stop her for a quick chat. Nothing, the fury of her best friend included, could make up for the fact that she was absolutely and completely late to something for the first time in the year, and she did not need the crushing sense of disappointment looming over the feelings she was terrified that she'd had.

Whatever feelings may have loomed over her did not linger, however, as they were quickly replaced by fury the moment she stepped into the Head Student offices a sodding mess and found James Potter leaned against a wall as he absent-mindedly smoked a cigarette. His eyes widened at her grand entrance, but he was otherwise unchanged, for he resumed breathing in the smoke of his cigarette and huffing it out a window of the offices in less than five seconds.

"Lily!" James said as he flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window before turning to greet her with an amused grin. "If I'd known you'd be this eager to see me, I would've volunteered for patrols ages ago."

It was as if the snog never happened. It was as if that one intimate moment between them had never occurred, as if last night never took place, Lily thought, feeling torn between relief and despair. Why despair? Why was it not affecting him? He fancied me for five fucking years and now that something's happened—

"Can it, Potter, I'm not in the mood." And she wasn't, especially after rushing through four flights of stairs with the gnawing feelings of both failure and a half-heavy heart in her stomach. Had she really spoiled her punctual streak of Head Girl perfections because of a damned nap?

"One more," James warned, flashing the grin of someone who knew their death was soon as he leaned forwards. "Thirty minutes"—

"Twenty-six," Lily corrected as she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg.

"Twenty-six," James Potter mocked, "minutes late, Evans. Merlin. When did you become James Potter?"

On any other day, perhaps Lily might've chuckled at that joke, but after a long fucking day of those stupid fantasies exhausting her and the harsh fact that she was late for the first thing in years, she was having none of it. Especially because her lateness was all his fucking fault. If only he hadn't snogged her, if only none of this never happened and he if only he hadn't bloody kissed her.

"Sod off," she hissed and turned right around to make her way towards the door. Lily swung it open forcefully and held it open, scoffing when he hadn't even moved an inch to follow after her. "Well, are we going off to start our patrols—which, mind you, we're already twenty-seven minutes late for—or are you going to keep smoking that bloody cigarette of yours?"

James cocked his head daringly to the side a few centimetres and flashed her a grin that told her she'd only be more furious after what he said. "One— I've already stopped smoking that bloody cigarette of mine," he said, matching her tone and lifting an eyebrow. "Two— We could start our patrols. Unless you'd like to nap more?"

She was going to kill him someday.

"I wouldn't have napped if you hadn't—" she began then stopped cold, feeling absolutely mortified about what she would've said had she lost control of her tongue for three more seconds. The length of our first kiss, she thought for a quick moment before she felt her cheeks burn up with frustration.

James looked at her curiously, now. "If I hadn't what?" James said, acting oblivious as he cocked his head a few centimetres to the other side.

"Nothing, it's just been a long fucking day," Lily said, noting that her voice lost the edge it had ten seconds ago as she gestured towards the doorway with her chin. "Now, if you don't mind. We have duties to attend to, and we're thirty minutes late."

With that, Lily didn't even wait for a response as she stepped out the door after seeing that he wasn't about to move, himself. Almost immediately James followed after her through the doorway, a move that seemed to anger her even further.

"Finally chosen to do what we we're supposed to be doing did you?"

James lifted an eyebrow at that and reached up to ruffle his hair, a movement that made Lily even angrier for whatever reason. "At least I got here on time," he said amusedly.

Lily ignored this. "You patrol this floor, I've got the third," she said blankly as she turned to make her way towards her fifth staircase in ten minutes.

"Don't we always patrol together, Evans?"

Lily scowled. "Not in the mood today, Potter," she said with a sudden feeling of displeasure running through her at the sound of her nickname. "And my name is Lily Evans."

"You had no problem with it before. Both of those," James pointed out, staring at her oddly. "You're late for the first time in—well, forever. You're cross with me and I haven't even done anything remotely bad—I think. What's going on?"

She turned at this, and it was not her that was staring at him oddly, albeit the scowl. "Lily," she practically hissed as she crossed her arms. "And, if you'd dig into that thick skull of yours, you'd know that I never liked the name."

"You tolerated it yesterday."

"Well, then I'm not in the bloody mood for it today, am I?" Lily said, seething, before turning on her heel and walking up a few steps of the stairwell. "Write your report on the logs and—" she began but was cut short by the familiar grab of her arm. She glared at Potter (don't you bloody remember what happened last time you did this) but halted.

"I'll come with you."

The git. Lily scoffed and turned on her heel again. "Oh, no you bloody won't," she jeered as she yanked her arm back, careful not to upset his balance this time. James just stared expectantly for a few moments before Lily rolled her eyes and turned to climb up the stairs again.

James called after her, but she ignored him. She ignored him even when she heard the sound of his feet tapping against the steps as he climbed them to chase after her out of the sheer frustration of having dealt with him for the past fifteen minutes and out of the exhaustion that pulled at her bones, courtesy of James Potter. If only he'd just bloody leave me alone, she found herself thinking before she felt her heart leap in her chest when she reached the top of the stairs for the stupidest of reasons.

The very moment her feet touched the steady floor of the third storey, James Potter, in all his prattishness, grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, an arm blocking her escape on both sides. She turned right and tried to escape but failed, and dittoed on the left before crossing her arms and just staring at him, a small part of her wishing that he stared back at her with the same fierce urge to snog that began to stir in her bones…

"Why won't you just bloody tell me what's up with you?" James said, his eyes focused on her and her alone in a way that seemed to make her melt, that seemed to make her purse her lips in frustration just so he wouldn't see her biting her lips with desire.

"Because—" she attempted to begin but utterly failed as her mind did somersaults to at least try to come up with some acceptable reason for it. How dreadfully unfair it was that she could be so bothered and he could be so level-headed and how unfair it was that her anger seemed to melt at his touch and how unfair it was that she had been haunted, completely and utterly haunted by fantasies of the git when he probably didn't even think of her in the same way she thought of him and…

The fantasies must've done a number to her head because she surprised even herself when her arms suddenly uncrossed and her arms moved to wrap around James' neck. And it surprised her even more when she suddenly said:

"Just snog me already, you bloody idiot."

James cocked his head for a few moments and Lily felt herself absolutely burst with relief for a few moments before he suddenly hesitated and merely pressed his forehead against hers, that wildly stupid grin of his playing at his lips. "I snogged you first yesterday," was all he said and Lily felt herself burst and groan with absolute frustration at that.

"You didn't snog me at all. You tripped. I was the one to snog you," she said, mesmerised by the shape of his lips and the way the sides of his lips seemed to curl with a smile the more she talked.

"Doesn't change the fact that it was me who did it first," James winked and licked his lips, then bit at the side, a move that made Lily swoon.

"Oh, sod it," she muttered to herself and pulled James towards her.

Her lips crashed against his with a sigh and suddenly, all the fantasies that had followed her around all day didn't seem half bad when all she could taste were the lips of James Potter, when all she could feel was the warmth of his lips pressed against hers and the wall behind her as he pushed her against it, when all she could bloody think about was James Potter and all his prattishness as she pulled him closer by tightening the hold she had around his neck.

She pulled back for a moment and James followed her with his lips before she stopped him by moving hers away. "Oi! I need to breathe, too. Git," she smiled, pressing her forehead against his as she hyperventilated, feeling her heart rush with the ecstasy of a newfound fancy. "Okay, you can snog me again."

And he obliged. And she returned the favour. And, Lily noted, as they snogged, she didn't feel half as terrified of her newfound fancies as she did the night before.


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