He practically slammed the door to the head's room. Of course he had missed his friends. Of course he had wanted to hear how their breaks were. Of course he had wanted to plan a little mischief. But it was now half nine and he had yet to see Lily for anything more than a few brief seconds down the train corridor before he was pulled away and he was a bit frustrated. He had tossed half the night previous, wondering whether they would still be sharing a dormitory when they got back as well as other things he knew he should not be thinking at all.
He found her on the couch, a book in her lap and her eyes closed, but she startled at the sound of the door. His heart, fluttering and nervous, settled, while his stomach, tense and burning, only tightened further. It had only been a week, not even a full one, and he knew deep in his bones that he did not want to go another week without her again, ever.
"Hi," he said softly.
She sat up, smiling. "Hello," she said, and moved her book aside to stand.
"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, and she blushed.
She did not want to say that she had been desperate to see him and that after she had seen the four of them leave from the Great Hall after dinner, she had feigned a headache and headed up to their room, in silent hope that he might do the same.
That had been over three hours ago now, and she had not read more than a chapter in her book in all that time. The urge to somehow track him down just to hold him seemed entirely ridiculous. But it did not stop her from feeling it.
"Not long," she said softly and he smiled. "What have you been up to?" she asked in a slightly amused and slightly defeated tone.
"Nothing," he said, too quickly.
"Liar," she smiled, and he grinned. His hands came to her hips, attempting to loosen the arms crossed over her chest, but neither moved. "How many points?"
"At least fifty," he said. "But it will look like it was someone in Ravenclaw."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," he said and she just shook her head, smiling lightly. "You're not mad," he said with a bit of wonder in his voice. It wasn't a question, but he was still surprised.
"Should I be?" she asked, her eyes becoming concerned as if she had not taken the situation seriously enough.
"No," he quickly reassured her. "It's not that bad. I just…love that you're okay with it."
"It's who you are James," she said, her arms finally unfolding to hold his.
"I know," he said, and his bones ached softly. "I just never thought that I'd find someone who'd understand that."
"What's Sirius, then? An innocent bystander?" she said flippantly.
"Fine then," he said, "someone who understands that and is such a good kisser."
"Oh I'm sure Sirius wouldn't be so bad, if he had a bit of practice," she began in a teasing tone, and he growled at her.
"Say another word and I'll tell everyone you did the prank we pulled tonight," he said, and her mouth dropped open.
"You wouldn't," she gasped.
"I'm the only man you'll ever kiss and that's final," he said and she laughed lightly.
"Oh all right," she said smiling.
His lips met hers softly, stroking lightly, but it wasn't what either of them wanted. She tried to open her mouth to him, but he did not let her. She wanted him to press against her, to send every nerve ending into overdrive where she felt that blinding sensation of sharp and intense want, where every particle under her skin seemed to spark with tension and energy, waiting for his touch to ignite her into flames.
She could feel his hesitation, could feel how tense it made him. He pulled back slightly, but his eyes were unfocused and determined as he moved her backwards, his hands on her hips guiding her until she felt her door behind her. She hands came up to his arms to bring him closer, but he stood as far away as he could while continuing to kiss her.
His hands did not touch her any longer but pressed flat and hard against her door. She tried to bring him closer, but he would not budge. His tongue found its way inside, devouring and possessing, the warm wet feeling sending chills down her spine, as he massaged and stroked with intense purpose, as if he had just tonight to taste her and tomorrow they would act as though it had not happened.
"James," she whispered painfully, begging him softly, as he resisted her attempts to bring him closer again.
"I can't," he whispered back, trying to kiss her again, licking at her lips before pushing his way inside, covering her words and protests, but it was like he was igniting only the surface of her, turning her skin to chard while leaving her insides still frozen.
She thought that he could not kiss her in a more possessive way, and yet the rest of him seemed entirely unconcerned with her, as if it would have preferred to be playing Quidditch or in bed asleep than in any way touching hers. She wanted him to cover her body, to place his hands on her stomach and her skin and to sweep in like the wind, igniting old embers still smoldering in the hearth.
"Why?" she finally managed when he took a moment to breathe. She hated how desperate it sounded, but at the moment, if it brought his hands upon her, she would not mind. She felt the muscles in his arms flex as his hands clenched, but they did not move towards her and she felt the childish frustrated urge to stamp her foot.
He tried to kiss her again, but she moved her head away and looked at him. He swallowed, and did not look in her eyes, but at her lips, slightly parted and wet and rubbed red.
"I want you too much," he said.
The air between them seemed to crackle. He wanted to kiss her again, but was not sure if she wanted him to, and was too afraid to look in her eyes and see that she was not ready to hear such things.
Surely she had to know, he thought. After so long, she had to realize what he would be feeling. They had talked about it, hadn't they? But they had talked about not doing anything like that, not for a good long while, because she was not ready and did not want it. He felt horrible for saying anything, for not being able to control his body and his reaction better. He wanted her in ways that twisted his insides and drowned out all other thought. It frightened him sometimes because he wanted her to be comfortable with him and he didn't want her to be afraid, and he wasn't sure she was.
"James," she whispered in a voice he had never heard. "Kiss me."
It was a command. A whispered, urgent, and incredibly fierce plea. Whatever doubts he had vanished, pushed like a riptide to the far back of his mind for later speculation.
She did not need his body against hers now, not now that he had spoken those words. They had burned their way inside of her, sharper and more viciously than firewhiskey, blazing and burning, causing her to ache and want dangerous things. Her hands were no longer on his arms, but had slid into his hair gripping and stroking and not letting him move away.
Finally she loosened her grip and he understood she needed air. She gasped in deep lungs full as her head arched up. He kissed down her neck and because she was not wearing her uniform yet, bit at her exposed collarbone, the smell of her perfume in his nose exciting him further. She moaned softly and he moved up again to her neck, the skin there much more malleable under his mouth. He stroked with his tongue, bit with his teeth, bruising her skin, grunting softly with her soft sharp moans, catching with each short breath. It was painful, but he knew it was consuming her as it was him as her hands continued to clench in his hair as he applied pressure.
She was trembling beneath him now and the sounds she made were becoming rhythmic. The sudden thought jolted through his mind that she was aroused by his actions. He had of course known that she would enjoy their affections, would have been frustrated if she hadn't, but the idea that she would want him as he wanted her had not fully formed in his mind until that moment.
He pulled away and gripped her body tightly against him so that they could not move. "Goodnight," he whispered into her hair.
"I don't want to say goodnight," she said, and while there was an element of coyness in her tone, he knew it was said more wistfully than anything.
"Say it," he whispered back, smiling. "So I can go take a cold shower."
There was a moment where he was not sure how that information was received.
"Goodnight," she whispered, and slipped her hand behind her to open her door just wide enough that she could slip out of his grasp and through.
Smart girl, he thought, before turning to his own room.
……………….
"Do you know why I've brought you here today?" the Headmaster asked. While James seemed entirely comfortable in Dumbledore's office, Lily had not had the same number of reasons to visit and thus felt entirely tense.
"Do you need us to work on something as Head Boy and Girl?" James ventured, but the lack of conviction in his tone was missed by no one.
Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, eyes twinkling, swept his arm across a letter in front of him. "I received this from Lily's father during break. In it, he expresses his belief that your living situation is inappropriate. I was a bit surprised that he has not mentioned any reservations before now if this is his feeling on the matter as half the school year has progressed."
"Lily and I are seeing one another," James said, his voice the most serious Lily had ever heard. When she looked at him, she saw the regal way he sat in his chair, somehow appearing to be lounging even though his back was straight. His eyes were pinning Dumbledore down and his hands gripped at his armrests.
"It's not as her father presumes. We are serious in our courtship," James said, his tone clear and sharp.
"Well I should hope so, James," Dumbledore said in a tone that was biting back humor. "If seven years of perusal is casual for you, then I would hate to see what you took the term 'serious' to mean."
James grinned ruefully and left out a huff of laughter. Lily, for her part, could only blush red.
She felt as she had for the last week of her break. Her father had not spoken to her and the only time he did speak in her presence was to argue with her mother over her future. She had not been able to speak without causing her father to leave the house entirely, and so she simply stopped trying.
Even now it was hard to muster a voice, terrified that if she did, the contents of her father's letter would spurn her. To hear Dumbledore protest on her father's behalf would break her resolve.
"I cannot say I am unaware of your relationship. While it is most uncommon for the Head Boy and Girl to be involved, it is not unprecedented, and it has not affected your work in any way, and so I have not found fault with it in that regard."
"So in what regard have you found fault?" James asked in a dark, defiant tone, ready to fight. She watched as James and Dumbledore seemed to duel with only their eyes for a long moment.
Lily felt her heart break quietly in her chest, expanding with how much she felt. He was so protective of her, so strong in the face of anything that might tell him it wasn't going to work. She felt like she was drowning in the face of his emotions. She wanted to kiss him.
"You mistake my intentions here James," Dumbledore said, his tone reprimanding. "The Head Rooms are a reward for the extra and hard work you both put in. It is given to the Head Boy and Girl for the same reasons you were chosen as Head Boy and Girl: because you are found to be responsible, mature, and dedicated individuals."
"Therefore, to take away that privilege because of those same reasons, would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't you think?" Dumbledore turned his piercing eyes to her. "I did not call you here today to tell you what my decision in this matter should be, but rather to ask you what it is you want."
Lily felt as though she had been asked that question a thousand times over the past holiday and her answer had never been enough. "I want to be with James," she said, her voice breaking but still holding its defiance. She lifted her head and was prepared to meet the eyes of her Headmaster. She was not prepared to see the kind and accepting eyes of Albus Dumbledore. She felt as though he could see every thought she had ever had of James: every angry, protective, soft, dangerous, kind, humbling, haughty and accepting thought.
"Then you will be," he said merrily.
"But," she began, confused, "my father…"
"I will address the matter myself, you need not worry," he said, pulling out a piece of parchment and dark green ink. When he looked up and saw their surprised faces, he smiled.
"We are not supposed to have favorites, so I will not tell you two that you are mine. I will not tell you that after your graduation, if you are in need of a minister for a marriage ceremony, I would be honored if you asked me. I will not tell you that I expect great things from the both of you, and that if this one matter is to affect the entire course of human history, I would rather have been shown to have sided with love. So since there is nothing left for me to say, is there anything else I may address with either of you?"
"No sir," James said, as tears stung the back of her eyes. James stood and offered her his hand. She took it, but turned back to Dumbledore.
"Thank you, sir," she said. His eyes shown at her, at the both of them, and for a moment, for the first time, she felt proud for all of the reasons she wanted to be and was with James. Lily turned away when Dumbledore broke eye contact, her hand tightening in James's, but the image of Albus with tears in his eyes at the sight of them would never leave Lily until the day she died.
AN: it's not very long, but it's kind of an awkward transition into the next part. I won't be able to work on it for the next two months which is rather upsetting to me, but I thought I'd post what I could now.
