DISCLAIMER: All characters, places, and anything else Hogwarts related does not belong to me. Sirius included, though I reckon he would be totally cute sat in my house with big puppy dog eyes :)

A/N: I am so sorry that it took me so long! I went to the Edinburgh Festival, and wow, was it amazing! This chapter is pretty short... and I think the emotions run out half way through, because I was kinda... rushing :/ I'm off to Amsterdam in the morning, so I couldn't write as much as I wanted to, but I wanted to post this for you all tonight, rather than leave you waiting yet another ten days, so sorry it's so rushed, but enjoy! (I promise next chapter wont be boring, and will be funny)

"If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world. I don't quite know how to say how I feel, those three words are said too much, they're not enough. If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world. Forget what we're told, before we get too old, show me a garden that's bursting into life, all that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see. I don't know where, confused about how as well, just know that these things will never change for us at all." - Snow Patrol

Chapter Eleven: Chasing Cars

It's never a pleasurable experience to be struck in the head by a speeding bludger, and James Potter was feeling it to the maximum. The starting state of euphoria that had come from either the severe knock on the head – though, harder than that of a cricket bat being smashed against your skull, knock wasn't really the right word – or from the knowledge that Lily Evans, the girl of his dreams and probably that of many others, felt just as strongly for him as he did for her, had soon vanished. In it's place, he was instead left with a heavy throbbing, a pounding headache, and a bucket to grasp in case his concussion got to the point in which he would be forced to use it. Against all the odds, he was extremely lucky to be alive to tell the tell of the boring room he now lay in – if Dumbledore's spell that had slowed his descent had not been cast, he would have surely broken every bone in his body – but he felt far from lucky. The stones that made up the Hospital Wing's walls were boring shades of cream and grey, the very sight of them causing the bed bound boy to feel emotions close to those of suicidal thoughts. Sure, he had spent many a night in these deathly silent beds beforehand, had lain on the hard, uncomfortable mattresses too many times to count, yet he had never wanted to leave anywhere as much as he did in that exact moment. He was a prisoner stuck in his own body. There was only one thing making his stay bearable; Lily.

Head drooping against the back of the armchair she was seated in, her red hair fanned out against the dark blue fabric, her lips open the tiniest amount and an almost inaudible sighing was sneaking past her lips as she breathed. Long eyelashes flickered every once in a while, her eyes closed and occasionally fluttering as though she was in discomfort, or halfway between dreaming and waking up. Her flawless skin was freckled, casting an even more adorable appearance over the sleeping girl, her cheeks pink with the happiness of all her hopes spilling into her dreams, a ghost of a smile on her lips despite the faded tear tracks running from her eyes, a few smudges of mascara here and there. Time seemed to have passed so quickly, and it was almost spell binding to believe that just a single day earlier she had yet to realise the feelings for the boy beside her, his hand linked tightly with her own, his thumb rubbing patterns into the back of her dainty hands. She was all that he had ever wanted, and a goofy smile grew onto his lips, increased only so by the strangely satisfactory feelings washing over him, the feelings that made him want to jump out of his bed right then, and do an odd little Irish jig. Why Irish, he would never understand, but the only thing keeping him beneath the covers was the heavy bucket and the soft skin of Lily's warm hands. He knew in that moment that removing his eyes from her perfect face, so calm and serene as she slept on, would be the hardest thing that he would ever have to do. The warm glow of the rising sun shone through the high glass windows, lighting up her face and making her seem almost heavenly, like she was a figure of his own imagination. But James wasn't dreaming, this girl really was his.

"Mnmh," Lily mumbled softly, her green eyes slowly fluttering open to gaze longingly at the boy in front of her. Her heart seemed to melt as her eyes met his, the hazel colour mouldering and glittering as though that was his very cause, his very aim, and damn, it was working. Propped up with several soft pillows behind his back, a few brown strands of smooth hair flopped in front of his eyes, while the hair at his roots continued to stick up as though he had just woken up. In all fairness, he probably had just awoken, but Lily knew that the messy carelessness of his hair would never sit flat, no matter how much work or spells went into it. He was one big bundle of mess; but he was one hot mess. One hot mess that belonged to Lily Evans; and she wanted to whole world to know it, wanted to scream it from the rooftops and write it in the stars. To think, no little than twenty-four hours ago, she had been almost one hundred percent that she hated him more than anything else in the entire universe, yet now she realised that he was her universe. There wasn't one person anywhere that she would rather be sleeping besides, even if it wasn't as simple as that; she would much rather have slept in his arms all night, yet a few of his arms had been broken, or at least fractured, so she had been forced onto the chair, screaming at anyone if they tried in the slightest to move her, to send her back to her dormitory for sleep. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, to which love was the most powerful form of magic, a magic not to be meddled with, Lily would most definitely have been dragged into the Gryffindor common room, despite the huge amount of force it would have taken to get her to move.

Needless to say, James had only attempted to walk a few metres from the Quidditch stadium holding Lily's hand before he had thrown his weight around the shoulders of Sirius Black, the boy who had lugged him in from there, not even daring to detaching the grip that the two lovers shared on each other's hands. A huge grin was spread on his face, despite his best friend's near death. At the end of the day, the whole experience was probably a bit of added fun for Sirius, something for him to tell the grand-kids; not that he would ever want any, being the playboy that he was. A smile grew onto Lily's lips and she edged forwards a little, leaning as close to James as possible. Her bright green eyes dropped to his chest, the one place that her head was desperate to rest upon, the one place that seemed the most tempting and comfortable place in the world to Lily at that very moment. Almost sensing her desire, James pushed down the dark blue covers that hid his body and restricted his movements; one of the things that had stopped him from reaching out for his glorious girlfriend all night. His bruised chest was bare down to his hips, a small trail of light brown fuzz leading down his tanned abdomen from his belly-button to the top of his red drawstring pyjama bottoms. He no longer needed the covers to keep him warm and protected. All that he needed now was her, her smell, her soft skin pressing against his own tender skin, the feel of her silky hair against his cheek, and for once, he was all that she needed. When the hell did things get so... topsy-turvy, so messed up, so... amazing?

"Good morning, beautiful," James muttered as her head dropped lightly down onto his tanned skin, careful to avoid the occasional patch of blue, brown and purple that were the tell tale signs of a tender bruise that would no doubt hurt if she set enough pressure down on it. Leaning down to kiss the top of her head that was resting against his collar bone, and placing his own head down so that it was touching against hers, James ran his index finger slowly along her jaw bone, slightly lifting her chin up so that he could look into her eyes, eyes that he found to be closed. It wasn't that Lily didn't want to look at him, for that couldn't have been further from the truth. No, she had her eyes shut for one reason; his scent. He smelled of everything that she had ever dreamed of and more, cinnamon that reminded her of past Christmas and the hope of those that were to come, a slightly musky smell that she imagined could only be from whatever cologne he used, wet grass that made her think of the first days of spring, the time when everything started over again. It couldn't be more perfect, yet she knew that if she opened her eyes for even a second, his smell would be lost to her as she would begin to be entranced by his face again, his eyes, his hair, his mouth, his nose, the few tiny little freckles just under his left eye that were so faint, no one but Lily had ever noticed them. But Lily had noticed everything, for he had fallen asleep soon after they had reached the Hospital Wing, and with no one else to accompany her – Quinn heading off to the lessons that Lily had been excused from, and Sirius getting fed up of attempting to draw on James' face with Lily giving him the evil-eye every ten seconds, decided to follow her shortly after – she had had nothing better to do than stare at him. And think. She'd done a lot of that, thinking.

"Hey, dreamy," she replied, though she knew very well that she was the dreamy one, but not for her appearance. It felt as though her head was still a hundred miles off, in an unknown land that she would happily let it stay there forever, if it allowed her to feel this light-headed and happy for the rest of her life. Draping his arm across the side of Lily's body, James smiled down at her. "How did you sleep? Am I hurting you? Do you want any water? Any food? 'Cause I'm sure I can run down to the kitchens and get you anything you want..." Lily trailed off, sitting back from the bed suddenly, James' arm dropping off of her as she pushed a hand through her knotted red hair, pulling the front sections off of her face. Her eyes were riddled with worry, and her eyebrows pulled together as though she was deep in concentration. Yet James laughed at the very sight, a sound that caused her hand to instead reach for the left side of his face, gently turning it to face her so that she could inspect every inch of it, almost as though she was searching for some sign of dementia, of hurt even. But there was nothing there, and this fact relaxed her slightly, to the point that her forehead uncreased and she leant back down against his firm body, yet she continued to stare directly up at him, the worry refusing to leave her green eyes, even as the warmth of his own eyes bounced across to her. "I'm fine, I'm fine," James said, a wide smile on his lips, the ghost of a laugh on them as though it was going to bubble back up any second and make Lily's heart glow once more just at the sound of it; the sound of his happiness. His happiness meant her happiness, because he was everything to her, and to lose him now, after everything, would tear her apart inside. As Lily's pink lips opened slightly as though she was about to protest against his own will, he pressed his fingers against them, laughter dancing in his eyes. Not at her, but in happiness, happiness that she cared so about him, that she finally felt the same way about him as he did for her, even if not as strongly as he did. If love could be compared to coffee, James' for Lily would be black – the strongest and most mysterious. "I'm fine... But there is one thing that I desire," his eyes glittered as he spoke, a hint of teasing in his voice, pausing to which Lily looked up at him as though he held the destiny of the world in his hands. One thing was sure, he held her very own destiny in his hands now, her life belonging to him, her heart a gift of happiness. Questioning stung her eyes as she stared into his own beautiful eyes that glowed with the love swarming up from his heart, his soul. "You."

Lily couldn't contain herself any more, couldn't hold onto the beast fighting to get out of her chest, and her stomach flipped repeatedly, something that made her feel queasy from his every touch, his every smile, his every breath against her skin. Throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips hard against his, she no longer appeared to care about his bruises, wanted nothing more than to kiss him and never allow their lips to break contact, never let go of him ever again. Last time she'd let him go, he'd almost died, and it was all her fault, she was the one to blame for his current situation, and it stung her heart to admit it. If she had never cried, if she had never been so stubborn against loving him in the first place, then he would never have been distracted by her, would never have taken his eye of the game and allowed the bludger to hit him just like that, the quaffle slipping from his grip and being snatched up by the Ravenclaw team below. James never allowed himself to lose focus, he'd always thought that Quidditch was his life. But it had taken that exact moment for him to realise how wrong he had been all those past years. It wasn't Quidditch that he loved more than anything – it was Lily. He kissed her back ravenously, ignoring the burning pain from his still sore chest, listening to nothing but the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of Lily's harsh breathing, and the rushing in his head from the sudden overwhelming passion and lusting. Her lips were the softest he had ever felt, smooth and perfect, fitting with his as though they were made for one another. This was worth the years of torturous wait he had had to endure; this would have been worth hundreds of years of wait. It was everything that James had ever wished for and more, she was perfect, better than anything he had ever had. And, for a beginner, she was one brilliant kisser. No, to hell with it, she was one brilliant kisser period.

Lily kissed him with everything that she had, the whole room seeming to vanish around them, the whole world even, leaving them suspended in each other's arms in an unknown paradise of beauty, love and longing. The feelings rushing through her body were like nothing that she had ever experienced in her life before, lust over throwing her senses, lust for the half-naked boy lying besides her. Sure, she had liked people before, but nothing strong, nothing ever willing her to actually date. She'd felt those everyday emotion of want, of butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach when fingers brush, eyes meet, been part of the trial of wishing for something that desire was telling her she wanted, when beneath it all she wasn't sure if she did. But this, this she did want, more than anything. Turning her head to the opposite side, Lily connected their lips again in a strong lock, tugging gently on his bottom lip as they continued to kiss passionately, her leg creeping up the side of his body in a completely non-Lily like manner. What the hell happened to the sensible girl that she used to be, just minutes ago? Passion, that's what happened. Passion mixed with hormones, a testosterone filled boy, and one very empty hospital wing. At least, they thought the Hospital Wing was empty.

"Ahem." Lily and James jumped apart as though they had both been cursed, both sets of cheeks turning a bright scarlet as they're wide eyes stared up at the woman ahead of them, feigning innocence. Both seventeen year olds were panting heavily, Lily clamping her hand against her lips in an attempt to hide her deep breaths, and both had stupidly ruffled hair, even more so than they already had been, and – for James Potter – that was most definitely saying something. There, stood less than a metre from the edge of the bed, hands thrust hard against her hips, was Madam Pomfrey. She glared down at them, her eyebrows knitting together in disapproval as she reached for the large bottle in the pocket of her robes, pulling it out and pouring a specific amount for James to consume. "Good morning, Mr Potter," she said, the disapproval spreading now to her tone, yet her gaze warmed as her eyes fell upon him, as though they had grown to be friends, as far as pupils and staff went. Clearly, James had spent a lot of time in the Hospital Wing, and indeed he had. Having a werewolf for a close friend was never going to be safe, risk free. No, he'd spent as many nights in that room as he had anywhere else in the Hogwarts castle. With a tiny nod, James pushed his glasses up his nose, before reaching across Lily's body to take the cup which held the concoction. "Miss Evans," Madam Pomfrey added curtly, in an almost sly tone, the disapproval coming back into both her voice and face as she turned to Lily, who cast her eyes down in embarrassment, her face flushing an even darker shade of red. If she could have summoned a hole up to pull her into the centre of the Earth, she would have done it. Anything to avoid the glares shot down at her. It was made very clear that Madam Pomfrey expected better than that from Lily, the Gryffindor prefect and one of the model students around the whole school. In fact, even Lily would have expected better than herself if she wasn't feeling so guilty. "I think it's time you left," She said pointedly, waving her hand in the direction of James' still healing body. "James needs rest, and you need to get to lessons. No objections." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked back into her office, though she continued to glare at Lily through the half-open blinds.

For a few moments, all James and Lily could do was stare at one another, their pulses still racing from the left over passion, chests still rising and dropping rapidly, and as Lily placed one gentle kiss on his temple, caressing the tender skin there were her soft lips, silently begging him to get better with haste, James felt his heart speed up as though having just received a fatal injection that could bring his heart completely out of his chest. And yet, he already felt like his heart was no longer in his body, but that it now belonged to the beautiful girl in front of him to do with as she pleased. She would keep it safe, after all, she'd kept him safe this long, not leaving his side once since she realised what he truly meant to her. It flashed through her eyes, shimmering across the gorgeous deep green, sadness, anger, worry. She didn't want to leave him, not now and not ever. For the rest of her days all that she wanted was to hold him against her, hear his breaths form to one with hers, press her head against his chest and listen to his heart beat. For her. Yet she couldn't help wondering if he felt the same way, if he felt as though his chest was going to explode when their eyes met, if he got shivers with every touch they shared, every brush of their skin. Nodding slowly, she squeezed his hand one last time, removing from it what he was gripping tightly onto. "You promised," he muttered, gazing deep into her eyes as though seeing into her soul itself. "I know," she replied. And she did know, especially as she turned from the injured boy, her heart aching. She knew alright.

"Oh. My. God."

It was almost as though every single pair of eyes turned to the great oak doors as Lily pushed them open, red curls tangled, pale skin slightly flushed, open lips slightly puffy. Whispers shimmered across the entire Great Hall, everyone stopping what they were doing and turning in her direction, mouths open. Some were smiling, some were glaring, but most were just unbelieving, their mouths lolling. She heard her name, his name, their names intertwined, and as she walked down the aisle, head raised high despite her head telling her this could very well have been the biggest mistake of her life, she half wanted to run straight back out. But now it was too late, people had already seen, people would already be gossiping, already cussing her with their own evil envy. All eyes followed her, brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, even the occasional grey or topaz, yet she met none of them, just walked, walked into what could be her own death. Seeing as the room was full of teenage girls, it could very well have been just that. And then silence, no sound at all apart from the footfalls of her own feet, growing closer and closer to her own saviour, her own safety where eyes would maybe then find somewhere else to rest. A single cough fell from the teacher's table, Dumbledore's vain attempt to create a better atmosphere than the one that had befallen the room, his bright blue eyes twinkling with what could only be described as stars. And all this because of one thing, one tiny little red and gold thing that was barely even that significant. But it was significant. Highly so. For there, walking hastily towards the spare gap in the Gryffindor table, was a red haired girl, hair dropping messily down her back and falling just above the large lettering that covered the top half of her back. One word, seven letters, followed by one number in black underneath. Potter.

A hand grabbed her from the table beside her, pulling her down onto the seat with a loud bang that seemed to pull everyone else back into reality, though Lily knew they would all be talking about it, as though someone had just flicked their on switch. She had been stupid enough to go down to breakfast in James Potter's Quidditch jersey, the very same one that he had been wearing when he had fallen of his broom almost a full day ago. And yet, she knew that she had to do it, knew that there was no other way. Everyone who knew her would laugh if she tried to tell them exactly what was going on between her and James, would perhaps believe her for a single second before ranting on about how that was a really good joke, and that they never expected that one. But they'd all seen the kiss, they'd all seen her run to his side, had all seen her grip onto him like he was her life support as he was dragged to the Hospital Wing, and none of them had seen her for the rest of the day's lessons. At least her entrance had been grand, and she would no doubt be bombarded with questions, questions that she didn't care to answer now that people knew the truth. She belonged to James Potter, and what better way to show it then wear it emblazoned on her back? Well, there was no better way.

Lily turned to the person besides her, about to cast them a smile and then escape before they could ask anything more of her, but instead her eyes fell upon the bright blue of Quinn Reynalds, who was grinning stupidly at her. "You're an absolute idiot, you know that, right?" She laughed loudly, her dark brown curls dropping gently in front of her face, covering one of her eyes. "I'm now going to have to smuggle you out of here so that you don't get killed, freak-a-zoid." Something about the glimmer in her eyes as she continued to laugh set a grin on Lily's face as she felt a sudden surge of warmth for her best friend, dressed scruffily in her school robes, pulling gently on the bottom of the jersey and turning to stare at the back again. "Potter's my ass. Babe, you belong to no one but Quinn Reynalds!" Winking at her, Quinn pushed the strand of smooth hair back away from her tanned skin, tucking it gently behind her ear, before pointing her finger in Lily's face, a sudden mock serious expression befalling her. "But if I die trying to get you out of here, you are no longer my best friend, got it?" Lily just laughed, and then couldn't stop. Nothing was better than the sweet song of happiness and joy; laughter.

A/N: See y'all in ten days! :) Thanks for the reviews/favourites :)