Haven't a Clue
xxx
October
xxx
The text announces itself just as Lily is reaching the door of her dorm room, sending a silent vibration through her jeans to her thigh. She suspends her keys in one finger and fishes her phone out with her others, sighing at the screen once it opens.
Room is occupied. Sorry for late notice. Love me still? Kisses
Lily rolls her eyes but steps back away from her door immediately, thinking about the activities occurring between her best friend and some random bloke, no doubt, on the other side.
She pivots on her feet and considers her options. There is Mary and Alice's room, but they live a few blocks over in a different building, and the redhead is rather exhausted from studying all night. She's not exactly mates with anyone else on her floor—or at least, not mates enough to knock on their door at two in the morning asking for a place to stay.
Just as she's resigned herself to one of the scratchy, stiff chairs in the communal floor lounge, a room just to her left opens and out steps a lanky figure with an uncontrollable mop of dark hair.
"Evans?" James Potter says, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. "What are you doing out here?"
She startles, surprised that she'd run into him, of all people, at this hour. "Potter, I—My roommate is…otherwise occupied."
"Ah, the classic sexile," James says knowingly, twirling an empty water bottle between his hands.
"The classic what?"
"You know," James says, shrugging and pulling his door shut quietly behind him. "An exile based in sexual activities. Sex-ile."
"That's…well, that's rather clever."
"There's a lot of thinking that goes on at two in the morning when you're roommate has sent you that dreaded text. Establishing a term for it was just the beginning."
Lily chuckles lightly, and they stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither quite sure of what to say. They've shared a rocky acquaintanceship since the beginning of term—his adolescent antics irritate the bloody hell out of her—but there's something softer about early morning encounters in a silent hallway, the world entirely their own.
"Well, listen," he finally says, his tone stilted and uncertain as he jerks a thumb back towards his room, "do you need a place to stay?"
"What?" Lily asks. "Oh, no, it's—I'll be fine."
"Rubbish," he insists, shaking his head. "We've that new futon Sirius insisted on buying, and it'll only bug me more if we don't find a legitimate use for it soon."
"I couldn't," Lily protests again. "I'm sure Marlene will be…done soon." She winces at the image that her words bring to mind.
"Don't be ridiculous," James says. "You've class tomorrow, I'm sure. Just let me go get water and then we'll get you settled."
"If you're sure…I mean, if it's really not a bother," Lily says, and James nods confidently. "Thanks, Potter."
"Not at all," he says. He turns to saunter down towards the drinking fountain, leaving a dumbstruck Lily left to pull her thoughts together in the hallway.
xxx
January
xxx
This is getting a little ridiculous, Lily has the decency and semi-muddled brain capacity to acknowledge as she stands outside his door—again—at nearly three in the morning. When the door opens in response to her knock, she's a little too drunk to not stand there and stare at a very sleep-rumbled, shirtless, illegally adorable James Potter. He squints at her through glasses that are teetering off the bridge of his nose and uses one hand to mess up his bed-head hair.
"Evans?" He asks, his voice muddled with weariness and confusion.
Lily holds up her coat and purse in a shrug. "Marlene sexiled me," she whispers loudly.
"Again?"
"Fourth Saturday in a row," Lily tells him, as if he doesn't already know.
"Painfully aware," he says.
"Painfully?" Lily asks, raising her eyebrows. "I thought we had a rather pleasant arrangement going here, Potter."
"Perhaps not as pleasant as Marlene's."
She swats at his chest with her jacket, just barely missing as he takes a little hop back, smug smile plastered across his sleepy features.
"Are you going to let me in, or not?" she asks, trying to enunciate her words as best as possible.
"With that skirt on, Evans, how could I not?" He opens the door wider, beckons her in with a flourish of his hands.
She scowls at him. "Why are you so sober? You're nicer when you're not sober."
She doesn't pay attention to his response as she shuffles further into the room—the warm, cluttered room, smelling of a James-like cinnamon and the spice of Sirius's ever-pleasant cologne—and stares blankly at her typical sleeping location: the futon. The trashed, irreparably broken futon.
"What the hell?" she whisper-shouts, taking note of Sirius's sleeping form and turning around to face James as he rustles around in his wardrobe. He surfaces with a large t-shirt and sweatpants, which he throws to her. The fabric hits her in the chest, the smell of laundry detergent wafting up to meet her. She closes her eyes and inhales, a soft smile on her lips. "You washed them," she says, distracted from the futon.
"You can't just sleep in the same pajamas for four nights in a row without washing them," he says, turning around to give her the privacy to change in the small dorm room. His voice isn't quite a whisper, just very low and very quiet. It makes Lily's skin tingle with warmth—or maybe that's the vodka. She gazes at his back—the muscles rippling across his shoulder blades, the straight line of his spine and narrow waist that disappear into his boxers…and the bolt of desire that shoots through her veins is definitely not the vod—
"You planning on changing anytime soon, Evans?" he says over his shoulder, and Lily jumps a little bit in surprise.
"Right," she says, dropping her jacket and purse. "Right." She pulls off her skirt and slips her legs into the sweatpants, pulling the drawstring tight around her hips. Then she rucks off her cardigan and tank top, letting James's shirt flow over her torso and drop to her thighs.
"Decent," she says, kicking her clothes and bag towards the broken futon with inebriated carelessness. "What happened?" she asks again, tipping her head sideways. Her equilibrium is so off-balance that her entire body almost teeters over as well, save for James's hand steadying her at her waist. When did he get so close?
"Sirius broke it, the drunken ponce," he says, with a shake of his head, retracting his hand. His eyes land on her, practically swimming in his clothes, and linger.
She barely notices—tries not to notice—instead grabbing an extra pillow and a throw blanket off of his bed.
"What are you doing?" he asks, stepping forward.
She looks at him strangely, confused. "Sleeping?"
"On what, the floor?"
Lily drops her gaze to the floor and pivots a bit with her hips, taking stock of the situation. She looks back up at him, ignoring his smile at her drunken foolishness. "Yes?"
He grabs the pillow and blanket and throws them back onto his bed. "No."
"I'm not—I'm not getting into bed with you, James Potter," she tells him sternly, her voice slipping out of a whisper. She pokes a finger into his chest and her green eyes are unfocused and cloudy and just as captivating as always.
"You're also not sleeping on tiles," he tells her. "We can sleep headsies-footsies."
"Headsies-whatsies?" She giggles, her tongue tripping over the consonants.
"Will you just get into the bed?" he asks, amusement in his eyes. "Please?"
She gazes at him contemplatively. "Put on a shirt," she says.
He sighs and goes back to his closet, picking up a wrinkled, cotton t-shirt and throwing it on. He holds up his arms as if to say better?
Lily nods satisfactorily and crawls into his bed, sliding her legs underneath the covers and propping herself up on her arms. "You are not sleeping with your head near my feet," she tells him, wrinkling her nose adorably. "That's disgusting."
He huffs out a laugh and eases in beside her, reaching over her lap to pull the comforter over both of them. She watches him closely as he eases himself onto his back, but she's still leaning up on straight arms.
"Can you stop over-thinking everything for once?" James says, amused. "You're drunk and you're still overthinking this."
"This doesn't mean anything," Lily says, her eyes as sober as they've ever been, her voice sounding like she's trying to convince herself.
He tugs on one of her elbows, pulling her down next to him and—in the small confines of the standard-issue twin mattress—right against his side. "Nothing," he agrees, even as she automatically starts to curl into his side. "Completely platonic."
She's gone when he awakens, her—his—clothes folded impeccably in a pile on his desk. Sirius is up and about, a towel tied around his waist and the most obnoxious look on his face every time he glances over at James.
"Don't," James warns, tossing his covers aside and dropping his feet over the side of the bed.
"I didn't say anything," Sirius says innocently, gathering items into his shower caddy. "There's a note, though."
James furrows his eyebrows, standing up and rubbing his fists against his eyes as he makes his way over to the desk.
James,
I'll talk to Marlene. Sorry (again) if I was a bother. Thanks for the clothes. And the bed.
Lily
James's eyes scan over the note once, twice, and he shakes his head on the third read. He picks up his phone, cursing this infuriating, mad, enchanting woman every step of the way. He thinks of the way she fell asleep almost immediately, curled into his chest with her feet tangled in his. He can still feel the warmth of her against him, right over his heart.
His thumb scrolls down, finding her name. "Lily Next Door," it reads, and he snorts. She had caught his eye all those months ago, on move-in day, with her flowery skirt and colorful bedspread and a strange lack of parents to help her move in. He had infuriated her—of course he had infuriated her, the girl wouldn't get out of his bloody head. There was no way to leave it alone. And somehow—somehow, through study sessions and late night snack excursions and their roommates' inclinations to have one-night stands—they had built a friendship.
And that infuriated him more than anything.
No bother, he types. Though I feel obligated to inform you that the futon won't be fixed for several weeks.
He leaves it at that, tossing his phone back onto his desk.
There's a ping a moment later, signaling her response. He gets up to check it.
That's a long time…is it possible I'm sensing some ulterior motives?
He stares down at the screen, the tiny little letters forming these words that make his heart thump faster against his rib cage. His fingers hover of the keyboard, moving back and forth over the keys without pressing down. After a few moments, he quickly types out a message.
Hm, haven't a clue what you're talking about.
James lets his body fall back against the mattress, covering his face and groaning into his hands.
He's such an idiot.
xxx
She shows up outside his dorm room again exactly six days later, sober and tired and standing with another text glaring her in the face.
She supports Marlene's endeavors, but this is getting a little exhausting. This not being exiled from her room so much as it is living with the thoughts of James Potter's torso pressed against hers day in and day out.
Really, her life would be much easier if she could just sleep in her own bed.
She raises her hand to knock and hesitates, her mind flashing once again to last Saturday, with James's skewed glasses and soft white t-shirt and arm curled around her waist in the morning. Shaking her head, Lily's scatters her thoughts and knocks, waiting impatiently for James to stumble to the door.
"Sorry—" the apology immediately drops from her lips as the door swings open, but she's stopped mid-sentence.
It's not James answering the door; it's Sirius.
"Evans?"
"Sirius," Lily says. "I was—well, expecting James, I suppose. He lets me crash on your futon when Marlene is…otherwise engaged."
"I know," Sirius says slowly, looking at her weirdly. "I see you there when I get up in the morning."
"Right," Lily says, color rising to her cheekbones. God, she's so tired. "Of course."
"Listen," Sirius says, "I would invite you in, but the futon is still in shambles and James isn't actually here, so…"
"Oh," Lily says, surprised. And then, understanding, again: "Oh."
James, still out at one in the morning on a Saturday. James, occupying someone else's bed. The image of another girl pressed against his torso with her head pillowed against his chest as he slips his arm around her fills her head and a liquid something pools in Lily's chest, swelling against her ribcage until she's sure she's going to be sick. "All right, sure. Well, I-I'll just—"
"His bed is vacant though," Sirius says. "So if you'd like you can…"
Lily has never had a thought so repulsive, sleeping in James's bed while he—
"No," she says adamantly, too loudly for the quiet hallway. "No, I'm going to go. I'll just—I'll go."
She hears Sirius close the door when she's more than halfway down the hallway, heading for the stiff, scratchy couches in the communal lounge. Her eyes are burning and she can hear her heartbeat through her eardrums, pounding out a rhythm that echoes through her head like the disappointment—and it is disappointment, she realizes, probably too late—coursing through her body.
It's hours more before sleep finally overtakes her.
When she wakes, it's to a soft, whispering voice and a hand stroking through her hair.
"Lily," the voice says soothingly. "Time to get up and go to bed."
The words filter through her mind and she registers first their meaning and then their origin. Her eyes open to see James Potter crouching in front of her. It's still dark out, and the memories of just a few hours ago come spilling back into her mind. She flinches away slightly from his touch.
"What?" she asks, craning her head up painfully from where it's propped in her hand. She can barely fit curled up on the couch, and the stress on her neck has taken its toll. She winces as she sits up.
"You're sleeping in the lounge," James says, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Presumably because Marlene has a guest. Come to my room."
Lily blinks once, twice, getting rid of the itchy dryness of her eyes. "No," she says, shaking her head. "You go. I'll stay here."
He laughs a short, innocent laugh. "Lily, you can't stay here. You've nearly broken your neck already. Just…c'mon. I know the futon is still broken but it really wasn't too bad—"
"James, no," Lily says, her voice clearer now as she sits up. "I'm not going with you."
"What?" James says looking legitimately confused. "Why?"
"Because I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you after you've—after you've…"
"After I've…?" he prompts, and Lily just stares at him. "Lily? After I've what?"
"After you've slept with someone else!" she bursts out quietly, her voice filling the dark room around them. "I won't be that girl."
"After I've what?" James says incredulously. "What are you talking about?"
Lily rolls her eyes. "I went to your room already, and you weren't there. Sirius answered the door and told me you were out for the night. As in, sleeping somewhere else." She raises her eyebrows, her message coming in clear.
"He said that I was—" James's brows furrow for a moment, and then a realization dawns in his hazel eyes. "Out—wait, a minute. I was studying. Out studying, Lily. Studying, not—God, what do you take me for?"
"Someone who likes company, apparently," Lily says, still not entirely convinced.
"Yes, your company. You think I would sleep with someone else?" He asks, looking a bit hurt now, and Lily's confidence falters. He eases down onto his knees from his crouched position at her side and puts his hands on her knees. His eyes are oozing with sincerity that makes her heart pound just a little bit faster. "Lily, there's only one girl I want in my bed, platonically or not."
"But…Sirius said—"
"Sirius is a right ponce," James interrupts, looking at her fiercely. "He's just messing with you."
"Is he the one who's messing with me?" Lily asks, feeling petty and stupid and jealous. "Mr. I-Haven't-A-Clue-What-You're-Talking-About?"
James huffs a sigh and glares at her. "You're not the easiest to interpret, either, you know. Bloody impossible, actually. But Lily," he says, scooting closer to her and brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheekbone. She shivers involuntarily. "You think I let anyone just catch a nap in my bed whenever they feel like it?"
"I don't know, you and Sirius seem pretty close…"
"Oh, shut it," James says, rolling his eyes at her laughter. He takes her hands in his and pulls her up to her feet. Lily's legs wobble a little bit at first, but she's smiling now as he releases one of her hands and holds fast to the other.
"No, really," she teases, walking with him towards the hallway. "You should have heard him tonight. 'I see you there when I get up in the morning.' If looks could kill, I swear."
"Similar to you a few moments ago, I reckon," James says, shooting her a cocky grin.
Lily gasps "I—no…I was not jealous," she protests, looking at him incredulously.
"Oh, you so were."
"Was not."
"Flinching away when I touched you, refusing to sleep in my bed…" James singsongs, holding tight to her fingers when she tries to pull away.
"I've reconsidered, now that you mention it," Lily sulks as they reach his door. She makes to walk to her own room, consequences be damned.
"Oh, no you don't," James says, tugging on her arm and pulling her back into him. "Don't pretend for a second like you don't love my exceedingly comfy bed. It was probably the best night of sleep you've ever gotten."
Lily just leans in close to him, drawing him in closer. And then, just as their toes touch and their hips press together, she snatches his keys from his palm and ducks around his shoulder. Unlocking the door with ease, she slips inside and throws him a smirk over her shoulder.
"Why, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."