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Lily sighed as she felt the monotonous tones of Binns' voice wash over her like an extremely unwelcome tidal wave. Feeling her eyes droop at the prospect of the tedious twenty minutes of class she still had to endure, she shook her head and took a glance about the room. Beside her, her friend Marlene was slouched in her seat, her eyes glazed and her expression one of weary boredom. Past her, Lily's eyes fell onto the figure of Constance Gilard. Constance, being the ever-stereotypical Ravenclaw, was hunched over her parchment, her practiced hand catching every word that escaped from the professor's vocal chords. (Did ghosts have vocal chords? Lily wasn't sure, and she couldn't bring herself to care either way). Her eyes continued their leisurely path, past Harriet Smith (the well-intentioned Hufflepuff), up to Cary McDonald-Parson (the slightly idiot-savant Ravenclaw), until her gaze finally made it to the back row.

His row.

Flanked by his adoring friends, acquaintances, and pathetic hangers-on, he held court at the back of the room. His feet casually propped up on the chair in front of him, his Gryffindor tie loosely hanging around his finely corded neck, his chocolate-colored hair sexily tousled on his head: he looked good. Lily's eyes followed him as he leaned to his side in order to hear something his best friend, Sirius Black, was whispering in his ear. Suddenly, his eyes glanced up and caught her gaze, his velvety coffee-hued eyes sending shivers down her spine. As if sensing her admiration, he sent her a smile, the likes of which any movie star would kill to call his own. As Lily felt the familiar warmth pervade her body, she couldn't help but smile back.

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James' eyebrows shot up as Lily's beautiful lips curved upwards in a friendly grin. Of course, he had seen her smile before, yet it had never been directed at him. Resisting the urge to turn around and check to see if she was smiling at someone else (he was the last desk in the row, only the wall was behind him), he refused to give into the urge to tousle his hair; he knew she hated that.

Gulping nervously, he allowed his gaze to dip slightly. Because Lily was turned a little in her seat, her pleated uniform skirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a mouth-watering expanse of milky skin. God, he would give anything, ANYTHING, to be able to run his hand up that milky thigh, under her prim uniform skirt, and up to the juncture of her legs.

Her skin would feel like silk, he knew this without a doubt. Intuition, he supposed. She would balk at first, her innocence bristling at his audacity. But the feelings he awoke in her would override her sense of decorum and she would relax under his touch. Slowly, slowly, slowly, his hand would creep up her thigh, coming to the hem of her underwear. (This is where his fantasy would deviate sometimes. He could never decide if he would encounter a deliciously innocent pair of plain white panties, or some thing more exotic, something lacy and daring. And then there were the days that he was especially randy, those were the days when he imagined that she had bypassed panties, and his hand would encounter nothing but fiery curls and wet warmth.) Anyway, his hand would lightly brush the hem of her underwear, eliciting a surprised moan of pleasure from Lily. He would smile at her innocence, and his fingers would continue their journey. At first he would tease her, he would deny her the pressure she craved. His fingers would play with her folds, spreading the moisture all over her mound. Next, his finger would slide slowly up until he felt her tiny bud of pleasure. He would press lightly at first, pressing evenly over the nub. She would squirm against him, her body unaccustomed to the bliss coursing through her veins. Next, her breathing would hitch and the moans would start spilling from her rosebud mouth, quietly at first, then louder and louder and louder until he couldn't resist and his other hand would join its brother beneath her skirt. It would evade her clit, favoring instead to fill the emptiness between her thighs. Slowly, it would enter her, gently rubbing her walls until he found that special spot inside of her. At this point, she would gasp and call out his name. Her hips would move frantically against his hands, seeking the release he teasingly dangled in front of her. Then, it would happen. She would fall apart in his arms, her orgasm ripping though her system like a bulldozer. He would listen to her moans and screams of ecstasy, drinking in her flushed skin, her glazed eyes. As she rode out her orgasm, he would wrap one strong arm around her and hold her close, bringing the other arm out of her soaked panties,he would bring his fingers up to his mouth so he could taste the sweet flavor of her release. As her moans subsided, she would look up at him adoringly and say, --

"Oi, Prongs!"

James was discourteously jerked out of his fantasy when his friend, Sirius Black, called his name and clapped him on the shoulder. Glancing about, he realized that students were gathering their things and preparing to head out of the classroom and into the Great Hall for lunch.

Quickly jumping out of his seat, he began gathering his books.

"Whoa, mate, you know you're my best friend, but I don't swing that way," Sirius said, chuckling at his friend's 'predicament'.

"Wha--? Oh," James said, his eyes following his friend's gaze. "Shit." James quickly held his books over his middle. Apparently 'little Prongsie' was a little too happy. Fuck.

Sirius laughed at his best friend's attempt at decency. "I'll meet up with you for lunch, give you a chance to have some… alone time, Cheers mate." Sirius tossed his friend a salute and went off in the direction of the Great Hall, still chuckling at James' situation.

James sat down in his desk again, receiving curious glances from those exiting the room. Praying that his condition wasn't noticeable, he attempted to conjure up some images to, err… diminish his 'problem'.

Okay… Slughorn in a bikini. Slughorn teaches Potions. Lily likes Potions. Lily in a bikini. Me rubbing lotion on Lily in a bikini. Me taking off Lily's bikini.

Dammit!

Okay, Snape and Malfoy shagging. Me and Lily shagging. Me and Lily shagging up against a wall. Me and Lily shagging in the Heads' dorm.

Dammit!

Sighing dejectedly, he resigned himself to having to wait for nature to take its course. Glancing up and expecting to find an empty classroom, he was more than surprised to find a lingerer. A very nicely shaped lingerer. A redhead lingerer.

Lily.

And she was coming over to him.

Oh, gods, this is what dreams were made of.

He watched her sidle up to his desk. She seemed nervous. She kept brushing her hair behind her ear, this was a sure sign she was anxious.

"Hi James."

"Hi!" James squeaked out. Flushing at his high-pitched voice, he coughed slightly before repeating himself in a more manly tone, "I mean, hi, Lily."

"I was, uh, well, I was going to the library. To read. And, uh, well, I was thinking that, uh, maybe you would like to come and… we could do the… patrol schedule for, uh, next month." Lily felt herself flushing at her stammering, but she couldn't help it, his good looks addled her brain.

Oh, Merlin, James thought, she is initiating contact with me! Lily Evans is initiating contact with me, James Potter! Jesus, yes! They would go to the library, he would dazzle her with his charm, they would have hot, steamy sex in the stacks, then they would get married and have babies and yet more sex! She would profess her undying love for him and the—

Oh, shit.

He couldn't get up.

He was rock hard under the desk and he would mortify her if he stood up!

FUCK!

"I can't!" James yelped out quickly, his eyes wide with horror at the thought of Lily seeing in him this condition.

Lily's eyes widened at his sudden outburst of fervor.

"Oh. Oh, right, then. I get it. Right. No problem." Lily turned on her heel and quickly rushed out of the classroom, the stinging rejection causing tears of embarrassment to pool in her eyes.

Watching Lily run out of the room (and with her, all of James' hopes and dreams), James felt the actuality of what just happened wash over him. Cursing the fates, cursing himself, and most importantly, cursing the appendage that seemed to have a mind of its own, his head flopped down on the desk with a heavy thud.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

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