A/N: As usual, I own none of this! And for those who are reading and reviewing, thank you! Reviews make the world go 'round.

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Chapter 10

Lily stood under the shower spray for what felt like hours. Her hands and arms were coated in Potter's blood, and no matter how hard she scrubbed she felt as if it seeped through her pores and bore into her bones. He was inside of her now; his very being latched on to hers.

She could no longer fight it.

Seeing him on the ground, unconscious and bleeding had done something to her. To know Severus was capable of such cruelty, using spells, hell inventing spells that were beyond his comprehension was reprehensible.

The water poured over her face, the steam from the shower clouding up the entire Prefect's bathroom. When she finally stepped out from the shower, she wrapped herself in a thick robe. She approached the mirror, wiping the steam clean from the glass and stared at her reflection.

She was paler than normal, her wet hair appearing darker than it actually was. Her green eyes stood out against her face, the fear not entirely gone from them.

Her mind drifted. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of the year? Was her new 'friendship' with Potter going to put him constantly at odds with Severus?

She shook her head. Potter and Sev had always bullied each other, right from the get-go. It was silly to blame herself.

And then she thought of the reasons why she had decided to end her friendship with Sev. His obsession with the Dark Arts had been a huge component of that. Would he join the wizard everyone was calling the Dark Lord after they left school? She didn't want to believe that he would, but her gut told her something different.

And if she was to join magical law enforcement, would she be forced to fight Severus? It was one thing within the safe haven of Hogwarts' walls, but another thing entirely when it was out in the normal Wizarding world. Friends battling friends over silly beliefs.

But when it all boiled down, wasn't that what war was all about?

Lily stared into her own eyes through the mirror. A steely resolve had taken the place of fear that had been there only minutes ago. She didn't know what the future would hold, but she was damned sure that she wasn't going stand idly by and let some zealot declare a Wizarding hierarchy. Not while she was willing and able to stand up for herself, her friends, and her family.

She left the bathrobe, clutching the robe to her flesh. Despite the hot shower, she was chilled to the bone. She thought longingly of her four-poster bed and anticipated slipping beneath the covers.

But there was something she had to do first…

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James truly wished that Sirius would go away. His chest was aching, and his best friends' incessant chatting was driving him mad. The Quidditch match and his duel with Snape had drained him.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something along those lines, Madame Pomfrey came to his aid.

"Shoo!" She called, making sweeping motions with her arms. "This young man needs rest."

Sirius flashed her a wicked grin. "Oh come on, Madame Pomfrey. Just a few more minutes?"

"You might charm every other witch in this castle, Mr. Black, but you don't charm me. Now out!" She pointed to the door with finality, but the ghost of a smile played across her face.

"You break my heart, Madam," Sirius said, feigning sadness. "See you in the morning, Prongs."

With one last wink at Madame Pomfrey, Sirius slipped through the door to the hospital wing.

James sighed. "Thank you," he said.

She smiled at him. "You were looking exhausted, dearie. It's my job to make sure you get enough rest." She came over and plumped his pillows.

"Do you need to change the bandages yet?" James asked, still somewhat concerned about what exactly lay underneath.

"No, we'll be leaving those on overnight," she explained. She handed him a goblet of potion. "But you need to drink this down one more time before sleep."

James tossed the goblet's content into his mouth, swallowing quickly. The stuff tasted horrible and he almost threw it back up.

"That's a good boy," Madame Pomfrey said, taking the goblet back from him. "Anything else you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" James asked politely.

"Of course," she answered, conjuring a clean goblet and a pitcher on his bedside table.

"Thank you," James said, smiling at her.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Well if you're all set, I'll be off to my own quarters."

"Alright. Good night," he said.

"Good night, Mr. Potter," she responded. She extinguished every lamp in the wing with a wave of her wand, save for the candle at his bedside. She left with a smile, closing the door behind her.

He was the only occupant of the hospital wing for the night, and the big, empty room made him feel small and a little lonely.

He blew out the candle and lay back against his pillows. His eyes, though tired, did not shut. His mind was too full of the events of that day to let him sleep.

When he woken up that morning, he would have never thought that by that evening he would lying in the hospital wing. He cursed Snape silently, wishing that he had never crossed paths with him.

He didn't know how long he had stared up at the ceiling when he heard the door slowly creak open. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by that point, and he was able to discern a figure shrouded in white entering the room.

"Who's there?" He whispered, his voice hoarse.

"It's me," a soft, feminine voice answered.

"Lily?" James asked, surprised beyond belief. "What are you doing here?"

She approached his bedside quickly. As he struggled to sit up, he noticed her wet hair, and her white bathrobe.

"I, uh, I just wanted to see how you were doing," she whispered quickly.

"Oh," James said, cursing himself for not thinking of a better response to that.

"Are you in any pain?" She asked, her green eyes boring through the darkness and finding his.

"Not much," he said, but grimacing as he adjusted his torso against the headboard of the bed.

"You're such a liar," she teased.

He grinned at her, and subconsciously ruffled his hair. "I like to stick with what I know." He paused for a moment, wondering if she would shrink back if he tried to grab her hand. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"What are you apologizing for?" She asked, a little surprised. She lifted her hand to smooth back the hair from James' forehead. He froze, unaware if she was doing it on purpose and whether or not she knew the havoc it was wreaking with his entire body.

"I'm just, ah, I'm sorry about Sirius," he said rather quickly. "And the whole lot of them coming in, and you leaving, and all that." He groaned internally. Since when was he tongue-tied?

"That's okay," she said, dropping her hand to his bed. Her fingers were centimeters from his.

Just DO it, he thought to himself.

"It was probably better that I left anyway, since I was covered in your blood and all," she said, oblivious to his internal struggle. "I might have scared some people."

James took the bull by the horns and grabbed her hand before he lost his nerve. Her skin was smooth from her shower, her nails trim and unpolished. He pulled her a little closer. His breath came out sharply when he realized that she was wearing her bathrobe, and only her bathrobe.

This realization made his throat go dry. He could easily see the creamy expanse of her neck in the darkness, and he imagined that his hands could so easily part the front of her robe, leaving her skin open to his examination.

Lily sensed the change in mood and didn't try and resist the temptation to take the hand not being held by James and stroke his cheek. Mimicking his move from earlier that evening, she stroked his bottom lip gently with her thumb as she leaned in over him. He took advantage of her closeness to take his other hand to stroke her, slowly, from her shoulder, up her neck, until his cradled the back of her head.

Lily knew where this was headed. She also knew that she had no intention of stopping it. She wanted his lips on hers; wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed by someone like Potter, given the way she knew he felt about her. She closed her eyes and anticipated the contact.

His first touch was gentle; barely a whisper of lips against lips. He paused, as if gauging her reaction, before increasing the pressure. The hand he was using to hold hers left, traveling up to bury itself into her wet hair, releasing a burst of fragrance. She supported herself with one hand while she held on to James' hair for dear life with the other.

He pulled her even closer, desperate to touch her in any way possible. She happily obliged him by sitting sideways on the bed and leaning in. Lily sighed, and James took the opportunity to dip his tongue ever so slightly in to her mouth.

Whatever he was expecting, it was not what he got. Lily's mouth opened wider, her own tongue going in to his mouth, surprising him. She clutched at him, fiercely pressing her chest into his.

James broke the contact, gasping out in pain. Lily backed off instantly.

"Oh Merlin!" She exclaimed. "I'm so sorry! How badly does it hurt?"

He had to take a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart that had nothing to do with the sharp pain in his chest.

"I'm okay," he said, trying to reassure her. "I guess it's just a little sensitive."

He could tell that she was blushing, even in the darkness, by how she dropped her eyes, and how her hands released the death grip on his head. Both of his hands went to her face, forcing her to look at him.

"It's alright, Lily," he said sincerely. "I'll be fine."

She sighed. "Maybe we should take it easy then."

He growled slightly, his hands running up her arms. "I don't want to take it easy."

Lily's eyes were alight with mischief. "But Potter, you're in such a delicate condition," she teased. Yet, despite her playful tone, her hands tenderly stroked his shoulders with a patient affection that he didn't know anyone besides his parents was capable of.

And it was at that moment that he knew he loved her.

As he gazed up at her in stunned silence, she smiled sweetly and then leaned down once more to press her lips to his. She rested most of her weight on her arms so as not to hurt his chest again. He gripped her upper arms tightly trying to move her in, but she resisted. Finally, he whispered against her lips. "Just go slowly. I'll be fine."

Taking his cue, she lowered herself ever so gently on to his chest, so that she was fully stretched out on top of him.

"Are you sure this isn't too uncomfortable for you?" She asked.

James almost audibly groaned. Oh, it was uncomfortable alright, but it had nothing to do with his chest. "I'm fine," he managed before finding her lips again with his.

There was a desperation in the way he kissed her, as if he were trying to convey his feelings to her without words. And while it should have scared her, Lily found herself relishing in it. She loved feeling all the lines of his body underneath hers. She loved his hands stroking up and down the length of her robe. She loved the feeling of his bare flesh under her hands. She loved the feel of his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth while his lips worked some kind of devilish magic that made her tingle from head to toe.

All of the years she spent being exasperated with him, or wasting her time and energy hating him, she had never expected to be with him in this way. Or for it to feel so… delicious.

"I see you're taking your rest very seriously, Mr. Potter," said a stern voice in the direction of the doors.

Lily gasped and they broke apart. She fell off the bed, arms and legs flailing as she caught sight of Madame Pomfrey in the doorway, framed by the torchlight from the corridor.

She came slowly into the room as Lily straightened up and adjusted her robe so as not to be improper.

"Madame Pomfrey," she acknowledged politely, her hands crossing in front of her and her eyes anywhere but the older woman's face.

"Miss Evans," Pomfrey replied sternly.

She came up to James' bedside and lit a candle with the flick of her wand. Lily turned to face her.

"What am I to do with the two of you?" She asked, no trace of humor in her voice.

"Don't blame Lily for this, Madame Pomfrey," James started. "I convinced her that the best way to heal me would be to have as much pressure on my chest as possible."

"And you thought that having this young lady lay on top of you would be the best way?"

"Well, she was fresh out of boulders, ma'am," James replied, smiling sweetly up at the older witch.

"Miss Evans," Madame Pomfrey began, not looking away from Potter's face, "You are to leave the hospital wing immediately."

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey," Lily said.

"And you're lucky that I'm in a forgiving mood."

"Ma'am?"

"I won't be informing your Head of House of this incident," Madame Pomfrey explained. "I fear it would not look good to have our Head Boy and Head Girl caught in flagrante. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey," they said in unison.

"Now scoot, Miss Evans, before I change my mind," Madame Pomfrey said, dismissing her.

Lily shot an apologetic and guilty look at James before heading out of the hospital wing, leaving the patient with his annoyed nurse.

"Beg your pardon, but why aren't you reporting us?" He asked. "Us being Heads shouldn't matter."

She sighed and began checking on his bandages. "You young people always forget…"

"Forget what?"

"That us old folks were once teenagers too," she said. Then she winked conspiratorially at him, extinguished his candle, and exited the hospital wing without so much as a backward glance.

James leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. Madame Pomfrey just became his new favorite person at Hogwarts…

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