Hogwarts at night was peaceful; the corridors were silent and every click of her heels echoed through the passageways. The party had gone on to be more than a success, with Lily's plans of staying for just an hour extending to an extra four hours; they had danced, laughed, gossiped and she was pretty sure she had managed to kindle an attraction between Liza and Remus – success!

Occasionally a ghost or portrait would salute her, and she smiled and waved graciously to each in passing. It wasn't until she passed through the third corridor that a strange feeling overcame her.

Quickening her pace, she tried to shake the feeling; nothing could harm her in Hogwarts, she had walked these corridors for the last six years without harm. Unless she counted the time she slipped down the grand staircase and bruised three ribs. A small smirk crossed her lips and she struggled to stifle a laugh.

"Laughing to yourself is the first sign of insanity, don't you know?" a voice called from behind her.

Swivelling around she glared at the figure. James Potter stepped in a drunken fashion from behind a pedestal and half stood, half slouched against a stone gargoyle, his school uniform wrinkled on his body and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. She could smell Ogden's Firewhisky and the crusted dirt on his shoes left no doubt in her mind where he had been and what he had been up to.

"What do you want, James?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Just because I talk to you doesn't mean I want something. I could have what I want without any effort at all."

Narrowing her eyes she glared at him, her cheeks tinging a slight pink. James Potter's arrogance had become normal in her routine; most days she managed to shake him off during breakfast, only for him to tag after her again in the common room.

"I could bust you for wandering the corridors this late." she declared, cocking an eyebrow at him, "And I can bust you for alcohol consumption."

He snorted, chuckling deeply and shrugging his shoulders. "Do it. I dare you."

"10 points from Gryffindor," she snapped, "Now get to bed Potter before I get McGonagall."

"You've sunk that low then? Taking points from your own house. Put them back Evans," he said.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," she barked, uncrossing her arms and jabbing him sharply in the chest, "You're the problem here, Potter. You can deal with the repercussions of losing points in the morning when you've sobered up and by the way, take a bath, there's a stink of the green houses off you!"

"Maybe I was practicing Herbology," he snapped, clumsily straightening up.

She threw her head back with laughter. "As if, Potter. It's more likely you were up to no good down there with those not so top secret plants you collected from the Hogshead last week."

"How'd you know about them?" he asked, scowling down at her. His eyes struggled to focus on her face.

"Goodnight," she scowled, turning away.

"Hang on," he said, catching her wrist and pulling her back, "Look, Lils. You know I didn't mean any-"

"Get off!" she yelled, slapping his hand away. "You try too hard, Potter. That's the problem"

Storming down the corridor, she ignored his sluggish calls and angry mutters. Brushing her shoulders off, she tried to kick the feeling of unease. She was used to James Potter turning up in strange places. She took a shortcut along the fourth floor and jogged up the back staircase.

"That was cute."

She swirled around, drawing and raising her wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Stumbling back, she heard her wand rolling along the corridor. Backing against a wall she narrowed her eyes into the darkness.

"Come out you creep," she demanded, "Don't hide in the shadows."

Stepping around a statue, James Potter smirked at her, winking and extending his arms.

"Come on Lily, let's stop playing games. This is our last year here so you may as well admit you like me now."

"What are you playing at, Potter!" she yelled, "You scared the crap out of me."

"Oh really?" he asked, catching her wrist, "Didn't think the head girl could be scared of the big bad arrogant toe-rag."

She flexed her fingers, his grip had tightened on her wrist and looking into his eyes, Lily saw something she had never seen before; a dark look had taken over his features, he seemed distorted and irrational. She tried to pull her arm away, but his fingers tightened around her free hand.

"James?" she gasped, "Stop it, let me go."

"Lily this is your own fault," he growled, his head sagging onto her shoulder.

He pulled her arms behind her back, pushing her body between his and the cold stone wall, his head nuzzling awkwardly into her neck. She could smell the stale Ogden's Old Firewhiskey from his breath mingle with the pungent smell of sweat and her stomach recoiled.

"James!" she yelled, wriggling in his grip, "Get off James! Help, hel-!"

His hand clamped tightly over her mouth, his fingers clutching at her jaw harshly. Her eyes whirled wildly around the empty corridor, her mind screaming for help. She tried kicking him away, but he pressed himself even harder against her body.

The smell of the green houses wafted up her nose, taking over her senses, and an unfamiliar smell lingered in the air. She felt his arms tighten around her waist; her chest felt constricted, her breathing became muffled and deep.

It all felt surreal at this point; she could feel his calloused fingers prickle her skin, the sickening warmth of his mouth moving sloppily along her neck and face. Her back and shoulders hit the stone floor hard and she felt his body push against hers.

She tried to ignore her thoughts, ignore the warm tears that flushed from her eyes and instead focused on the musky smell. It mingled in the air; it was nothing she had smelled before, yet was something her mind continued to try and familiarise – it was odd, a very familiar, unfamiliar smell.

A warm feeling suddenly overtook her insides and she felt the pressure being relieved. His rough hands left her body and face and she could hear him struggle to his feet. Lying still, she closed her eyes and focused on being silent.

She could see his shadow silhouette into the corridor; it elongated in a demonic fashion up the stone walls where the dying embers of the wall torches made it flicker and dance. Her bottom lip trembled as she struggled to hold herself together. While she lay on the cold floor, her trembling body shadowed beneath his powerful figure, she silently pleaded with her mind to make sense of it all.

The stink of his breath and the distorted smell of greenhouse lingered around her nose, distracting her rational thoughts. James Potter, he couldn't, wouldn't... how could he?

The darkness concealed his face, and she didn't know if he could see hers through the shadows, in a way she was grateful. Without a word, she heard him turn and slide out from behind the statue. She listened to his drunken footsteps disappear down the corridor and when she heard the final click of his heels silence, only then did she roll into a ball and silently cry.


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Keeping the magic alive.