Eternal Summer

by missgryffin

James Potter just spent his sixth year trying to get over Lily Evans while, unbeknownst to him, Lily Evans just spent her sixth year trying not to fancy James Potter. Now, they just had a drunken near-kiss that neither one remembers, they've been named Head Boy and Girl, and they're both wondering how they'll survive their final year at Hogwarts in each others' presence.

8. Sniffing Out Information Like Gold

A/N: Ahh you all are the best, Chapter 7 is probably going down as one of my favorites. I love some good Lily pining, haha! I did not plan this at all, but today is Lily Evans' birthday, and this just so happens to be a very Lily-focused chapter :) Also, to those more experienced in FF dot net than I, should I keep doing review replies here? Or move them to a Tumblr post? They are just getting rather long…?

chaserspirit: Ah I'm so glad you loved it, thank YOU for reading and reviewing! Seeing those little notifications and reading these seriously makes my day! banrayar: Ugh I cannot stand pushover!Lily either, so there will be none of that here! Her dynamic with Snape is really interesting to me, because we know about their history/Snape's love from HP7, and Remus in HP3 described her as kind/wanting to see the best in people, so the question I'm always thinking about is, how far does that go? What are her boundaries for forgiveness? James and Snape are both testing that for her, but their actions are currently leading them in very divergent directions. TiffanyToms: I LOVE that you swooned over the listening thing, because I had so much fun working that theme in re: Lily's frustration with boys/their maturity/her O-issue. Even more than the physical attraction, James is finally doing it for her emotionally, which I love watching her discover. Also, LOLOL at giving into the arrogance. Also also, as is clarified below, we still have a whole other week until the first Hogsmeade Saturday, hehe, so we will see what happens in the meantime? -bites nails- Nina: Ahh I love this, in part because I hope why she flipped on the train/later that first night makes sense now! I wanted to set up the contrast between her being "normal" of prissy and bitchy in self-defense with him (Chapter 3) with her having this new trust/respect/appreciation for him (Chapter 7) that she is grappling with understanding even as she feels comforted by it. Guest (giggling at calling you that, sounds so formal): Thank you! I also am not a fan of either of those tropes (prude or lady vamp), so I spent a stupid amount of time thinking about ways to keep them balanced, and I'm so happy that has come across! You nailed it. Lily has such a vivacious and fiery personality, and I think deep down she's a very sexual and passionate person - James is just the first guy to really meet her there and draw that out of her, as we saw in Chapter 7. In turn, I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say that James deep down is a melt and very sweet, even though he has an arrogant/sometimes cold exterior to those not in his inner circle, and that Lily is (/will be) the first girl to draw the romance out of him. Ugh I'm feeling gushy just thinking about it, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH! LottieBILlions: OMG bless you, I cannot believe you just binged 100k words in one sitting, I am so impressed. And Lily! I love how much you all loved the hickey twist. I think Harry definitely got half his badassery from his mum, so I will not stop showing that! Josie: Ah the long-chapter-feeling-fast compliment is one of the best! And I'm so happy their banter/chemistry is coming across! Sometimes I write their dialogue and sit here cackling to myself behind my computer, but then wonder if someone else will get/enjoy what I've just conjured in my head. So thank you for that affirmation! It's important to me to show the development of their emotional connection/friendship as an undercurrent of their physical relationship, because that is really (I think) what truly turns the tide in finally bringing them together. Also, lolol re: your comment about Slytherins constantly getting them horny. Thinking of fun/inventive scenarios in which to make Jily hot and bothered has become like candy for me at this point. My favorite scenario yet (dare I say I like it more than the store cupboard?) is coming up in I think two chapters, depending where the cuts fall. I CANNOT WAIT! Lunane: OMG this is amazing, I love hearing the play-by-play of your reaction, it's so fun to see what jumps out to different people from their dialogue, etc! Also, "slowly dismantling the stereotype they have both built inside their head"—I want to CRY because this articulates so perfectly what is in MY head that I have been trying to portray on the page. So happy. Herdawness: I have totally gorged on fics before, and it still feels surreal that now there are readers gorging on something I wrote! There will be more Marauder/friends interaction, but the primary focus will be Jily. I am apparently a very verbose writer (LOL, 100k words and we're only two weeks into school, like WHAT?) so now that the scene is set, I'm trying to stay focused on making every scene have a point / being plot-driven in some way, and to the extent those plot points involve Marauders/friends, they will definitely be wrapped in more! I have also written some drabble of other characters' POVs, so I may do something with that eventually. (Like a side-along one-shot, maybe?)

On tumblr at: missgryffin

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CHAPTER 8: Sniffing Out Information Like Gold

LILY

She was still a goner in the morning, though a far more panicked goner. What was she doing? She had just hooked up with James Potter on a common room sofa. Who even was she anymore?

This needed to stop. She was Head Girl, for Merlin's sake. She was supposed to be sensible. She was supposed to be responsible. She was supposed to fall for a boy the normal way, after letting him take her on a nice, romantic date and leaving her with a nice, romantic kiss at the door. And she most certainly was supposed to not have any non-platonic feelings of any variety for the Head Boy.

Who had not taken her on a date, but who had dueled a pack of Slytherins with her and then left her with a very suggestive hand kiss at the staircase after plying her with passionate kisses on the sofa. Whom she had just jerked off and watched come all over her stomach. Who was now two-for-two in giving her the orgasm no other boy had ever been able to give. Who bloody listened like no boy had ever listened, and who had somehow unlocked a primal desire for more.

Whom she respected. Whom she even…trusted?

That was new. Also unnerving, yet somehow oddly comforting at the same time. She thought back to how he had called out Severus on her behalf, taking over the confrontation. It had been a public display of loyalty she hadn't expected. She had realized in that moment that he had listened, really listened, to her before, when she'd talked about Sev. She hadn't been sure James had really got what she had tried to explain, and she had assumed he hadn't really cared to understand, because him and Severus had been at odds since the very beginning. But he had gotten it, or as well as he could, anyway. He had defended her the same way she'd imagine he would defend his friends. That touched her more deeply than she wanted to admit, and it also terrified her, because it showed her more than anything that what he had spoken after the Severus duel was true: he cared.

How was it possible to feel secure in knowing he would be there for her, yet also petrified by what that could mean? And how was she supposed to maintain whatever good rapport—whatever friendship—they were developing while she also wanted his hands back on her body?

What a mess. They were badge partners. They had only been getting along for two weeks. They were supposed to be trying to be friends. They weren't supposed to be getting each other off after every situation they were called to handle as Head Boy and Girl, no matter how good a listener he was or how good his kisses felt. For Merlin's sake.

He was right on one thing, at least: having slept and being back to completely sober, they should talk, and when they did, she would remind him that they were friends and colleagues and she would tell him that whatever non-platonic things had happened between them was past tense, not to be repeated, because it wasn't professional in the slightest. And then she would set her mind to curing herself of the senseless malady known as fancying James Potter, because she was now exactly one week away from her normal date with a normal boy and that was just how it was supposed to be.

xxx

Her plan started unraveling by breakfast. She was chewing her toast, minding her own business, ignoring the Head Boy several seats down from her, and listening to her friends rehash their controversial cards game from the night before (several allegations of blatant cheating were made, along with accusations of severe retaliatory measures), when she heard it.

"Hey, Evans."

Lily turned reluctantly, knowing exactly who was saying her name, and she saw James standing standing in the aisle between tables, hands in his pockets, nodding for her to follow him. Frowning, she got up and walked toward him, and once she had reached him, he turned, ambling toward the front of the Great Hall.

"Vance brought Laurel back," he told her.

"Oh!" Lily turned, her eyes searching for them. "Then she's alright!"

James must have already spotted where Emmeline was sitting by Laurel at the front of the Ravenclaw table, because he walked straight up to them and swung his leg over the bench, straddling it to face Laurel, who immediately blushed.

"Hey, Laurel. You alright?" He smiled at her softly, making her blush even harder as she nodded.

"Yes, I—thank you. I'm okay."

Lily put her hand on Laurel's shoulder. "No broken ankle, then?"

Laurel shook her head, her eyes going wide as she noticed Lily. "No, just—just sprained, but Madame Pomfrey fixed it up last night, and I'm feeling better—a lot better."

James looked across the table to the two boys who sat there, watching the whole interaction curiously. "You were the two who were there last night?"

One of them nodded. "I'm Henry Clearwater," he said, holding his hand over the table toward James. "I'm the fifth year prefect with Laurel."

James shook his hand and asked, "Your dad's in the Department of International Cooperation?"

Henry nodded, smiling, and James said, "Nice bloke. I've met him, through my mum."

The boy next to Henry mimicked his friend, offering James his hand shyly and introducing himself as Quirinus Quirrell, looking anxious. "Are we, er, in trouble?"

James looked confused. "Why would you be in trouble?"

The boy called Quirinus looked nervously from James to Lily. Henry cleared his throat, and Lily didn't miss the way he exchanged a brief look with Emmeline before he said, "We weren't really supposed to be there. It was after curfew, and we were walking with the girls when they were on rounds, which I know we're not, you know, supposed to do."

He had the good grace to look embarrassed by it, at least. James shook his head, speaking before Lily could. "Don't worry about it. It's good you were there."

He turned back to Laurel and told her, "I'm glad you're alright."

His smile was so genuine, his intentions so pure, that Lily felt a sudden wave of affection for him. This was a side of James she had never seen until this year: his eagerness to help people, protect people. She had always known he was this way with his friends—they were the tightest-knit foursome she had ever seen—but lately he had been extending that outward. To her. And now to others he didn't even know. Or had he always been like this, and she had just never noticed?

Lily gave Laurel's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm Muggle-born, too, Laurel." The girl's eyes went wide as she took in this information. "You can come to me for anything, alright? Potter too."

Laurel swallowed heavily, speechless as she looked between them, and Lily saw Emmeline beaming over Laurel's shoulder.

Lily turned to go and James got up, giving Henry a wave and then squeezing Laurel's shoulder as he left. Lily smiled to herself as she heard Emmeline say behind them, "See? I told you, they're super nice!"

James smirked and said quietly, "We make a good team, Evans."

She looked sideways at him, taking in his rumpled hair, his equally as rumpled sweatshirt, the same one he had worn last weekend, that she had felt against her cheek as she trailed kisses over that neck and made him—

She forced her eyes straight ahead, biting her tongue. She needed to get it together. Really, one good deed as Head Boy and she was unraveling? Pathetic.

But also: good deed.

Oh no. No, no, no. Lily cursed whatever flirtatious banter they'd had that had turned Gryffindor's character traits sexual. She was not going to think about that, because then she'd start thinking about those lips on her skin and that smooth thickness in her hand and—

They reached her seat first, and she felt his fingers press fleetingly into her back as he passed behind her, and fuck it all if she didn't want to drag him into broom closet right then so she could jump his bones, badges be damned.

JAMES

Lily disappeared from the common room sometime after breakfast, and though James spent the day amiably with his friends, even going out for a nice, long roam on the grounds for awhile, he couldn't stop thinking about her. The absence of her presence was like an ache in his chest, like he missed her just from not being in the same room.

It was pathetic, he knew. But after the night before, he didn't even care. Because he was done for. A goner. Utterly helpless against falling in love with this girl, this fiery, beautiful girl who had driven him mad in every way for the better part of the past six years and who had just taken down Slytherins at his side and flaunted him, helped him, chose him, without batting an eye, over one of his mortal enemies, over the one she had always sided with before. And then she had kissed him like he'd never been kissed and felt better than he'd ever imagined her feeling and looked at him like he was everything she'd ever wanted and topped herself completely in giving him the best hand job of his life.

He also knew this was slightly dangerous. Because this was more than just physical attraction, more than just fancying her. He had feelings. He thought he had had them before too, but he hadn't known her as well then. Well, not that he knew her perfectly now, but he certainly felt they had covered quite a lot of ground in the two weeks they had been badges together. It was like whatever feelings he'd had at fifteen had not disappeared like he'd tried to make happen (who was he kidding?), but had instead been hiding out of sight, growing all the while, and now had burst back into the front of his consciousness in full force, swelling and expanding with each flirtatious banter, each personal observation, each situation managed, each kiss and touch and smile.

Like he said. Helpless. Done for. Pathetic.

And now it was Saturday, that relaxed late afternoon time just before dinner, when everyone was lazing about and musing ideas for the night ahead, and James was once again playing chess with Remus and, once again, losing, although this time it had nothing to do with Remus's mouthy chess pieces and had everything to do with how he could barely focus for his constant glancing toward the portrait hole.

"You can ask me if you want to know where she is, you know."

James looked up at his friend, seeing his far-too-knowing smirk, and only thought about being stubborn for half a second before he relented. "Where is she?"

Remus chuckled. "Dungeons. You know she's been Slughorn's research assistant for like two years? Well, he has a new potion he's working on, today was their first go at getting started."

James nodded and moved his knight. "Dunno how she does it all."

Remus was quiet a moment, and James assumed he was just pondering his move before sending a pawn to its death, but then Remus looked at James with a curious expression as he said quietly, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think she facies you, Prongs."

James stared in shock. He obviously knew that, but Remus didn't know about what had being going on in private with Lily, and if Remus could still tell, without knowing, that meant something. "You—you think?"

Remus smiled at him. "I caught her staring at you the other night."

Satisfaction swooped through his stomach.

Suddenly Remus's smile took a rather wicked turn. "And that's twice now you've left the common room together and not come back until we've all gone to bed."

James froze, heart leaping into his throat, as he stared at Remus. He wanted to tell him, he really did, and a part of him had felt supremely guilty in keeping this all to himself. He warred with himself. He and Lily had agreed not to tell, but Sirius already basically knew, and of his friends, Remus was probably the safest to tell. And James wanted—needed—to talk about it, especially with Remus, who had been friends with Lily far longer than he had.

He glanced around them, checking if anyone seemed to be watching or eavesdropping (a not uncommon occurrence in that school, as he now really knew), then leaned over the chess board as he told him in a low voice, "You can't say anything. Especially not to Marly. Well, Sirius sort of knows, he kind of walked in, but just—don't say anything?"

Remus nodded, eyebrows arched in curiosity.

James took a deep breath. "We've hooked up a couple times."

Remus's eyes went wide, a grin spreading across his face. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

James shook his head. "Dead serious. It just…happened. And then…happened again."

"Have you…talked about it?"

"Er, no."

"I see."

"See…what? Exactly?"

Remus grinned and opened his mouth to say something, but James didn't get to find out what it was Remus saw because just then he felt a tap on his arm, and he looked up to see Emmeline looking at him strangely.

"What's up, Vance?"

"Er—Edgar Bones is outside the portrait hole. He's asking for you."

James frowned. "What does he want?"

Emmeline shook her head. "I don't know, but he looks like he came from practice, and he might be with somebody? He was blocking them though, acting strange. He just told me to see if you were in here and have you come out if you were."

Remus shrugged at him, and James sighed, getting to his feet; his knees were stiff from having sat for so long at chess. Edgar seeking him out was more than strange. Maybe it was about Quidditch? Something prefect related? Or, the other common denominator they both shared—Lily? His insides roiled at the thought. Did Edgar want her back? Was this about to be one of those territorial conversations? But how could Edgar even know? It's not like him and Lily were holding hands down the hallway; they had only hooked up twice in secret. Surely she wouldn't have told him?

"I'll be back, Moony."

He worked his way through the crowded common room, then got caught in a quick banter with Sirius, Ludo and a few other sixth-years, who were milling about not far from the portrait hole. James didn't much care; Edgar could wait. Adelaide was trying to catch his eye, and he looked at her only briefly as he pulled away from the group, laughing at something Ludo had said.

"Where you going?" Ludo called.

James tossed back over his shoulder, "Being summoned for a quick chat, I'll be back."

He was still laughing over his shoulder at Sirius's call of, "A chat, eh? Hope it's not too quick, Jamesie!" when the portrait swung closed behind him, and he turned to see Edgar standing in a far corner of Gryffindor landing, facing the corner like he was embracing someone. Edgar was in his Quidditch robes, only missing his pads, and his shirt looked uncharacteristically untidy, pulled out around his waist. As Edgar's head lifted, James's insides turned to ice as he noticed a flash of red hair near Edgar's chest.

"Do I need to give you two a minute?"

Edgar met his eye, his face looking grave. "She needs help, Potter."

James looked him over again, more thoughtfully this time, and realized he had seen wrong: Edgar wasn't embracing Lily—he was holding her up.

All bitterness toward Edgar fled his mind as he jogged over to them in the corner. "Bones, what the fuck's going on?"

Edgar gently held Lily away from him, pulling down his cloak slightly from where he had draped it over Lily's head and shoulders. The sharp scent of blood, mixed with something putrid, met his nose, and his eyes took in the slimy brown gunk thickly covering her hair in disbelief.

Disbelief instantly turned to rage. "Who did this?"

Really, he already knew. There was no way this wasn't retaliation for taking out those Slytherins the night before. But if Edgar had a name, he needed it, because even though he wanted to start tearing Slytherins limb-from-limb, he realized it would probably be better to stick to the actual perpetrator instead of just killing all of them.

Lily's eyes seemed vacant, her face drained of even more color than normal. Edgar leaned her gently against the wall and said quietly, "Lily, sit for a minute." She slid down the wall, knees in front of her, not seeming to notice or care that her pinafore dress was riding up her thighs, and Edgar twitched his cloak so it draped over her front like a blanket.

He took a few steps away from her, keeping her in his sight, and James followed.

Edgar was shaking his head, and he told James quietly, "I didn't see them, it all happened fast—she was coming up that staircase from the dungeons. I had just been heading toward my common room from practice, was walking over to say hello. We got hit. It was some sort of hex, felt like I was being punched wherever it landed, and then this shit just dumped all over her from nowhere. Mud, mixed with blood from something, and some toad guts, I think."

"Is she hurt?"

"I don't think so, she just seems to be in shock. She hasn't said anything. But Potter, if she got hit with the same hex I did…well, it was fucking painful. Felt like taking a Bludger to the gut, and then I just kept getting pummeled. I'm used to getting knocked around at Quidditch, so I recovered faster, but she was wheezing most of the way up here. I'm not sure if she can walk much more."

James nodded, looking back up at Edgar. "Anyone else see you?"

Edgar frowned. "There were some other people out and about in the halls, but I didn't notice anyone specific. I was too focused on getting her up here, to be honest."

Guilt ate at him for his earlier nonchalant attitude, for not caring that he made Edgar wait. James knew what it felt like to get hit by Bludgers, and Edgar had picked himself up and then managed to half-carry Lily all the way to Gryffindor Tower—all after what James was sure had been his own grueling practice. It was no less than James would have done, and he felt a strange mixture of respect and envy surge through him.

"Why'd you bring her here, Bones?"

Edgar looked confused. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean you could have dropped her at the Hospital Wing, that would have been way closer for you—"

Edgar was shaking his head. "We agreed before that if she got attacked by Slytherins, I'd only take her to Pomfrey if she needed life-saving help. Otherwise, she just wanted to be brought back to her common room, didn't want the Slytherins to get the attention for it."

James felt a strange twisting feeling in his stomach at hearing how she and Edgar had discussed that—had almost planned for it, like she'd known it was inevitable.

"And it should be obvious why I asked for you to come get her." Edgar raised a hand to James's shoulder. "I trust you, Potter. Especially in a situation like this. Especially when it involves her."

James nodded, throat suddenly a little thick, and Edgar removed his hand, turning to look down at Lily. He paused a moment, then looked back over at James, his face a little too knowing as he added, "You know we're not together anymore, right?"

"Er, yeah, I—I did hear that."

Another wave of guilt hit him then for jumping to all the conclusions he had.

Edgar had a thoughtful look on his face. "Lily and I were friends first. And we're better as friends, yeah?"

James could only nod again, unsure what to say. But Edgar was crouching in front of Lily, saying quietly, "Up you go, Lil."

Her legs seemed wobbly, and for the first time James noticed her eyes seemed watery, like she was finally getting through her initial shock and nearing tears. Edgar was wrapping his cloak to cover her head, and then he was gently guiding her towards James, like he was getting ready to hand off a bizarrely overgrown, swaddled baby.

"Get the cloak back to me whenever, it doesn't matter. And let me know how she is tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, I will."

James put a tentative arm around Lily's shoulders and Edgar took a step back from them. Their eyes locked, and Edgar gave him a small smile. A strange heat swirled in his stomach, the moment suddenly feeling much more significant than just passing off a hurt friend to their Housemate.

He pulled his eyes from Edgar and bent his head toward Lily, knowing Edgar was still watching. "Can you walk, Evans?" She responded by taking a step, but then her knees buckled.

Out of the corner of his eye, James sensed Edgar reach out instinctively as James caught her around the waist. Their eyes met again, and James knew the same worry that flashed across Edgar's face was etched on his own.

James steadied her, and Edgar took a step back again.

"Alright, Evans, here's what's gonna happen. I'm going to pick you up, and I'm going to carry you straight upstairs. The common room's crowded right now, so keep your head down, okay? I'll get you through."

She nodded, just a small jerk of the head, but it was more response than he'd seen of her thus far, so with a final parting nod to Edgar, he bent down and scooped Lily up in his arms. Her head immediately buried into the crook of his neck and shoulder, one arm reaching up to hold onto him.

The Fat Lady swung forward, and he plunged into the common room, immediately met by shocked faces of Ludo, Sirius, and Adelaide. Lily shifted against him, a lock of her hair falling out from under the cloak wrapped around her, and Adelaide shrieked, "Is that Lily?"

Sirius was stepping up to him, saying, "Mate, what—?" But James brushed past him, muttering, "Upstairs," and sensed Sirius fall into step behind him.

People were crowding in front of him now, watching, throwing out questions, pushing for a closer look, but James just shouted, "Move—she's fucking sick," and that parted the crowd immediately, leaving open the path to the staircases.

James kicked open the door to his dormitory and went straight into the lavatory, depositing Lily gently on the shower floor. Heavy footsteps behind him told him his friends had followed him. Just then, Lily reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"They can't see me like this." Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide. "Please."

He got up and reached the lavatory door just in time to stop a hurtling Mary, closely tailed by Sirius and Remus.

"What the fuck happened, James? She's sick? What's happened? Let me through."

He pulled the lavatory door closed behind him, pushing Mary forward into the dormitory. Her eyes were flashing, her face cold as iron, as she struggled against him. "Let me see her!"

To his surprise, it was Sirius who spoke first, grabbing Mary's arms from behind her. "Mac, calm down. If James is leaving her alone, then she's okay to be alone."

Mary breathed hard through her nose, still glaring at James, but she at least stopped trying to get past him.

Remus asked quietly, "What happened?"

James looked back at Remus as he said, "She got attacked when Bones was nearby. He brought her up here, that's why he sent for me."

Remus' brow furrowed. "How bad was it?"

Lowering his voice, not sure if Lily could overhear or would even be listening, he told them what Edgar had told him. Mary's face looked murderous as he finished, but she kept her voice to a harsh whisper as she hissed, "So you're telling me that she's in there, still covered in fucking mud and blood and Merlin knows what other shit and we're standing out here why?"

"Because," James snapped, "literally the only thing she's said since it happened was that she didn't want anyone else to see her like this."

Mary looked taken aback at his tone, and Sirius and Remus were both eyeing him warily. James sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, maybe she's embarrassed, or still processing it all—I don't know. I just know she's been in shock, she couldn't even walk once Bones had gotten her up to the Tower. She seems like she wants to be alone. I think all the attention would be too much for her right now."

The sound of the shower being turned on, of water running, filtered through the lavatory door behind James, and they all stood still for a moment, listening.

Sirius broke the silence, asking, "What should we tell people downstairs?"

Mary rounded on him. "If she doesn't want us to even see her, she doesn't want people to know."

Remus shook his head. "Sirius is right. James already shouted she was sick, she was all wrapped up—we can't just ignore it, we have to say something."

James raked his hands through his hair again. "Just say someone found her ill and helped her back to the common room. Leave the Slytherins out of it. You can pretend you don't know what happened, I mean, it's not like any of us were there."

Remus nodded. "Makes sense."

Mary added, "When she's up for it, we can use your cloak to move her."

She was the only one of the girls who knew about his invisibility cloak, having been a beneficiary of its usefulness in fourth year when she had been sneaking out to meet up with a boy but ended up running from Filch, and James and Sirius, who had been out for one of their late night strolls exploring the castle, had pulled her under it just in time to save her from detention.

"Yeah," James agreed. "I'll send for you."

His friends left the dormitory, Mary seeming especially reluctant, and Remus cast James a knowing look over his shoulder as he left, like he was making the same connections James was between their burgeoning secret affair, Edgar's sending for James specifically, and Lily's refusal to see anyone else—connections that James was slightly scared to think about.

Once his friends were gone, James locked the dormitory door and then knocked on the door of the lavatory. "Evans, you alright?"

No response.

"If you don't yell at me to stop right now, I'm coming in."

Nothing.

James creaked open the door to the lavatory, seeing Lily's clothes and bits of lingerie laying in a pile on the floor in front of the drawn shower curtain. His stomach turned over, arousal threatening to seep through his veins even though he knew this was definitely not the time nor place.

He grabbed a towel from the shelf, then leaned against a patch of wall near the shower.

"Let me know you're conscious, please?"

She let out a sob she had clearly been holding in, and James thought his heart might break at the sound. He sunk down to the ground, tossing the towel aside as he drew his knees up in front of him and leaned his head back against the cool stone. He didn't know what to say, didn't think anything he could say would be any help anyway, but he felt a strange compulsion to stay, like he had to give her the solidarity of listening to her work through the pain.

Her floodgates now opened, her emotions surged past her shock, and he heard her ragged breathing, her gasping sobs, and then suddenly she was wheezing, and then coughing, and it almost sounded like she was choking, and then just as James was starting to clamber to his feet, she was throwing back the curtain from hands and knees, diving for the toilet across from him, and he didn't even have time to notice she was naked, he was just diving over her, his longer arms getting to the seat first, shoving it up with a clang as she retched violently into the bowl, and he scrambled to pull her hair back from her face, realizing that it was still caked in mud and grime, that she must have just been sitting crying in the shower, and for the second time in the span of a couple weeks, he helped her be sick, kneeling over her from behind, wrapping her hair around one hand so he could keep the other pressed solidly on her back, murmuring quiet nothings while her body recoiled from its realization of what it had endured.

When she had cast up everything she could, she shifted her head up slightly, breathing hard, and James reached around her to flush again, finally letting go of her hair only to reach for toilet paper and wipe her mouth and chin. He reached for more, then held it up to her nose. "Blow."

She started to protest against him for the first time, tensing up like she finally realized he was there, the flush rising up her neck betraying her embarrassment, but he pressed a hand into her back and said quietly, "We're past that, Evans. Blow your nose." She reached up, nudged his hand out of the way to take the toilet paper herself, and then blew her nose and finished wiping up the snot around her lip. James reached for the forgotten towel, shaking it out and draping it around her.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back."

James got up to fetch his wand, which he had left on the shelf by the towels, and then rummaged in the wardrobe outside the lavatory where they stashed alcohol and sweets, pulling out a bottle of Firewhisky and a pack of peppermint gum.

She had wrapped the towel more thoroughly around herself but otherwise hadn't moved, and as he knelt down next to her, she raised her eyes to him, bright with water, though he wasn't sure if they were true tears or from being sick. Salty streaks had dried down her cheeks, interspersed with dried trickles of the grime that still coated her hair and crept onto her skin. Without preamble, James cast a quick Scourging Charm to her mouth, then removed the bubbles and held out the bottle of Firewhisky, instructing, "One pull."

She complied, with a rather long one, and then he took the bottle back from her and left a stick of gum in her hand, which she immediately popped into her mouth. James stood up, reaching out his hand to her, and she took it wordlessly, letting him pull her to her feet. Guiding her by her shoulders, he turned her gently around, pulled back the shower curtain, and prodded her inside, where the water was still running. But instead of leaving her in there, he turned her so she was facing the water, angling it down toward her shins, and then he stepped in behind her at the back of the shower, his fingers going to her hair, where his eyes had already locked on something glistening in the mud that looked suspiciously like those toad guts Edgar had mentioned.

She finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "Potter—"

"You can't get all this out by yourself," he said matter-of-factly. He plucked the organ from her hair, then said, "Don't look down," before he dropped it to the drain at his feet, grateful he had kept his trainers on.

He worked steadily, her occasional sniffs telling him that she was still crying silently, and once he thought he had all the guts and chunkier bits of mud out, he started working his fingers through the tangles.

"Close your eyes." He couldn't see if she did, but she didn't gasp as she probably would have if she saw his red-brown fingers when he reached around her to rinse his hands under the water. Keeping steady with one hand on her shoulder, he reached up to a high corner shelf of the shower for a shampoo bottle, then squirted a generous amount directly onto her head.

"I hope you like how I smell, Evans, because you're gonna smell like me for awhile with the amount of shampoo I'm about to use on you."

She gave a strangled giggle at that, and the shake of her shoulders caused her towel to slip slightly, but she hitched it back up, holding it to her chest as she hugged her elbows.

He started a slow massage of her scalp, working the shampoo into the crown of her head, where the mud and blood were caked on the thickest, and then slowly and methodically worked his way through her long strands until he could slide his fingers through them without hitting gunky resistance. He didn't know how long it took, absorbed in his task, but he vaguely noticed that Lily seemed to relax under him, the tension leaving her neck, and as he returned his fingers to her scalp, rubbing a gentle pressure just at the base of her skull, her head relaxed into his hands, a low sigh, almost a moan, escaping her lips.

He slid his hands to her shoulders, turning her gently.

"Rinse, and I'll check it over."

Holding her towel over her chest with one hand, keeping his gaze, she tilted her head back into the water, using her free hand to lift her hair as she rinsed the soap away, sending a trail of red, muddy water rushing toward the drain.

They repeated this process once more, until the water ran clean from her hair, and then James stepped from the shower, pulling the curtain closed, and took the wet towel she handed him around the curtain. He heard the click and snap of the body wash opening, the sounds of lathering soap on skin, as he wrung out the wet towel over the sink. He was just tossing it into the closet containing the hamper for dirty laundry when she reached a hand around the curtain. James wordlessly grabbed a dry towel from the shelf and handed it to her, then leaned against one of the sinks, waiting.

After a few moments, she pulled back the curtain, standing before him with towel-dried hair hanging over one shoulder and down her chest, past where the towel was knotted over her breasts. She kept a hand clutched over her stomach, like she was afraid the knot might not hold. Her skin was still pale, drained of its usual luminance, though her green eyes sparkled. She looked fresh, a world different than she had just an hour ago.

"I can fetch Mac to come get you," he said simply. "There's a way we can get you back into your dorm without anyone see—"

"Can I stay?"

James's breath caught in his throat, barely believing he had heard her correctly.

She must have noticed his hesitation, because she added softly, "I just—I can't be around the girls yet, they'll just want to talk about it. But I also don't want to be alone."

He nodded, then managed to croak, "Yeah, Evans. You can stay."

She smiled softly, something sad but also grateful. "Thank you."

James pushed off from the sink and went to his wardrobe, rummaging around for a t-shirt and then charming it to make it more oversized before handing it to her and shutting her in the lavatory.

He went over to the window near his bed, leaning against the ledge, and looked out over the grounds in an effort to distract himself from the desire now pumping through his body. He had just helped Lily Evans shower. He had seen her completely naked, if only for a brief flash of a second before he was focused on supporting her while she heaved in his arms. And now she was about to be crawling into his bed, in his shirt, smelling like his shampoo, and Merlin help him if would be able to get through the night without being hard the entire time.

He hadn't even heard her approach behind him, much less expected her to pull his arm gently and tug him into a hug, and for a split second he tried to protest, knowing she was about to feel how inappropriately aroused he was, but then her hip brushed against him and her small gasp told him it was too late.

"Look, Evans—"

He cut off, seeing the strangely intense look on her face. Her hair was dryer now, her skin starting to come slowly back to normal, and if she was able to have a look like that, then her mental state was definitely improving.

"You took care of me."

"Yeah, because I care about you."

The words were out before he had even thought about saying them. He cleared his throat. "Any good mate would have done the same."

She quirked a brow, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sly smile. "And would just any good mate be turned on the whole time?"

James felt his mouth drop open. He thought he had hid it better than that. "The—the whole time?"

Her eyes glittered. "Potter, you've had a boner since I came crawling out of the shower to throw up. I felt it when you were wiping my mouth. And I saw it when I was rinsing my hair."

He swallowed thickly. "Evans—"

She shook her head. "It's okay, I—" But she cut off, like she had caught herself, her eyes darting frantically between his.

"You what?"

She pulled her lips under, pressing her mouth into a thin line.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Evans, I just watched you throw up and pulled toad guts out of your hair, you can be fucking honest with me."

Her face fell. "T—toad guts?"

He closed his eyes. "Shit, you really didn't know."

Her eyes were welling up with fresh tears, a puzzled and hurt look on her face. "I knew I got hit with something, I—I knew there was blood, I could smell it, but—"

Her lower lip was trembling, her jaw working like she was trying to stop herself from crying, and James drew her back to him, closing his arms around her tightly, not caring anymore that she surely felt him pressing into her stomach, only needing to be there for her.

He murmured the story into her hair, telling her what Edgar had told him, how Edgar had sent for James in the common room, what she had looked like in Gryffindor Landing, how he had brought her upstairs, sent their friends to handle people downstairs. She cried into his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt at his back.

"Mudblood," she whispered when he finished. "Literally mud and blood."

He pressed his lips into her hair. "You're better than them," he told her. "In every way. You don't deserve any of this, Evans."

"I know I don't," she said softly back. "But I can't escape it, either."

James sighed. "I know. But I'll be here, Evans. I'll always be here."

She seemed to melt into him, her hands sliding down to rest at his hips, right at the tops of his trousers, as she slowly peeled her head back off his chest, meeting his eyes.

"Potter—"

He felt drawn to her, the energy suddenly charged around them, and he was leaning down toward her mouth, about to press a kiss to her lips, when he felt her fingers slip under his shirt and just under the edge of the waistband of his briefs. He stilled, pulling his head back up, seeing her eyes snap open in surprise.

Shaking his head, he gently withdrew her hand and took a step back from her.

"Evans, I'm not—I can't do this when you're like this."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, like this? I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You just had something traumatic happen to you—"

"I can handle it—"

"I know you can." James breathed hard, simultaneously grateful to see that blazing look because it meant a truer return to normal, but also frustrated that he was seeing it because it came from him having to turn her down, something he had never imagined he would ever do.

"So what's the problem? It's not like we didn't just do this last night."

"Fuck, Evans. You know I want this with you. And under any other circumstances, I'd already be all over you by now. But not like this. Not when you only just came out of being in shock for an hour." He paused, hands in his hips, taking in her sudden frenzied energy. "Call me selfish, but if we're going to do anything, I want it to be because you want me, and not because you're just wanting something to take your mind off what happened to you."

She stared at him, eyes wide, and he saw from her face that he had called it true. Maybe she really did fancy him, but those advances just now weren't motivated by that—they came from a desire to escape. To forget.

He recognized it.

Annoyingly, he was still aroused as ever, and too much had passed between them for him to care about pretenses anymore. He pointed toward the lavatory door. "I'm going in there. You know why. You're still welcome to stay if you want to sleep here before facing everyone tomorrow, but I'm not messing around with you tonight, Evans."

She nodded slowly, looking slightly surprised at the straightforwardness of his tone, and he strode toward his wardrobe, grabbing a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt before stalking into the lavatory. Locking and silencing the door behind him, James stripped down, throwing his clothes on the ground next to Lily's, and turned on the shower, touching himself as soon as the water started running. He came fast, too worked up for too long from the whole evening, and he rested his forehead against the stone, mind racing.

What was going on?

Even Remus had picked up on her fancying him, and Remus generally had a good read on these kinds of things, but it didn't make his head spin any less. In all the years he'd pined after Lily, he'd never really imagined what it would feel like if she liked him back. But he was next to certain that she did. And not just from their recent encounters, though their chemistry in that department was like nothing James had ever felt or even imagined was possible. No, with Lily there was something more than just lust, and he thought she felt it too. He could see it in the way she looked at him sometimes. In the way she teased him and bantered with him and seemed to actually respect him now she'd finally noticed he wasn't a fifteen-year-old toe rag anymore. In the way she had let her guard down for him, on more than one occasion, and let him comfort her when he thought she might have pushed other people away. It was strange and new and thrilling, and the more he was around her, the closer he felt they were becoming.

He was hard again just thinking about her, and he got himself off a second time for good measure. It took longer, but James welcomed the effort: he needed to exhaust himself before potentially crawling into bed with her.

Finally spent, he finished his shower, towel-tried his hair, got dressed, and faced the dormitory to see if she was still there.

She was.

She was in his bed. Curled against his pillows, covers over her lap. And she was thumbing through the worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that he kept on his nightstand, open to the page he had marked with the parchment covered in his scribbles for practice.

It was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

She closed the book when she noticed him, then handed it to him as he approached the bed. He took it wordlessly, setting it back on his nightstand, and then slid under the covers next to her, drawing the curtains closed around them.

She snuggled up to him immediately, her face in his chest, her hand reaching up to his shoulder. "Better?"

"Yes," he admitted, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Much relieved."

She chuckled but didn't say anything, and James just held her for awhile, breathing her in, stroking through her hair with his fingertips.

"Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad Eddie brought me to you."

His fingers stopped mid-twirl of her hair; his breath stuck. When he didn't say anything, she peeled her head up off his chest, her eyes glittering at him in the dark.

"You pulled guts out of my hair, Potter. If that doesn't make us friends, I don't know what does."

James chuckled, ruffling the top of her head, and decided to roll the dice. "I think we're more than friends, Evans."

He heard her suck in a sharp breath through her nose, swallow hard. "Can we—maybe—talk about all that…later?"

James lowered his hand to her shoulder, gave her a squeeze. "Yeah, Evans. Get some sleep."

Lily rolled away from him and curled on her side, and James lay with his hands laced behind his head, mind racing over everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, but especially over what had just happened to Lily. He must have been quiet long enough that she'd assumed he'd fallen asleep, just as he'd assumed about her, because suddenly she pulled in a long, shuddering breath, like she had been crying and trying not to breathe but couldn't hold it anymore.

For a moment, he froze; did he just pretend he didn't know, let her cry? But she was crying in earnest now, and there was no way he couldn't go to her, so he rolled on his side, hearing her start and hastily try to wipe tears away as he lined his body up behind hers, wrapping his arm around her middle.

He murmured softly, "I got you, Evans," and thought his heart might just burst when she nudged her hand under his and interlaced their fingers.

LILY

Lily floated toward consciousness. She felt wonderfully warm, the pillow soft beneath her cheek, the morning light somehow managing to push itself against her eyelids even through closed drapes, a delicious heaviness around her middle weighing her down, making her feel anchored, somehow. She snuggled into the pillow, content, thinking she might just have a nice, lazy lie-in for once.

Then she heard it: slight rustling just behind her. And then she realized it: the heaviness around her middle was an arm that was attached to a hand with long, familiar fingers. And then she felt it: another now-familiar body part poking into her backside. Lily was almost afraid to move because depending on how they shifted, where he lined up, the location of his prodding piece of anatomy could end up being perilously good.

His voice was a hoarse mumble. "You up, Evans?"

"Mhmm."

Was she ever; Lily was now as wide-awake as if she'd just chugged Awakening Potion, her mind racing with the knowledge that she was in James Potter's bed, and that her cat had spent countless nights in this bed, and that she had just woken up next to him, which meant she had slept next to him all night.

With his arm draped over her.

From when he'd held her as she'd cried herself to sleep.

She didn't feel embarrassed, necessarily, just…vulnerable. She had always known some sort of attack would eventually happen; it happened to Muggle-borns all around her, and it wasn't like the Slytherins had ever let her alone—she had just become very adept at looking out for herself. But even she'd known it couldn't last forever, and after taking those Slytherins out like they had on Friday, she wasn't surprised they had doubled-down on their efforts to get her back. Still, the cruelty of it—the weight of knowing this wasn't just aimless hallway bullying but was deep and driven prejudice—cut her to her core. It was the only thing that made her feel helpless, genuinely sad, in a feeble and despondent sort of way. Because if half—or more?—of the wizarding population was against her for something she had no control over being, what could she possibly do about it? She couldn't change minds, not those minds, anyway. She could only keep on, looking around every corner, preparing for each day like she was going into battle, trying not to think about how making her way in the world outside Hogwarts would be ten times harder than what she already faced.

It all made her rather weary.

And then there was James. Carrying her through the common room. Helping her be sick. She hadn't had time to think about it before, but now she realized the implication of why he was able to help her so fast: he had been there, sitting silently, just on the other side of the curtain. He had heard her crying. And he hadn't left. And then he had cleaned her up, had pulled guts from her hair. His instructions in the shower—don't look down, close your eyes—all made sense now. He had saved her from dealing with the mud and the blood and the gore, and then he had saved her from doing something else she might regret, because now, refreshed with a long night of sleep, she was immeasurably glad that they hadn't done anything together while she'd worked through the stages of her shock and sadness.

He slid his arm back to gently hold onto her waist, his thumb rubbing slowly over her side through the soft fabric of his shirt. They hadn't moved, had barely breathed, and Lily imagined he was as acutely aware as she of that other contact between them and how only two thin pieces of fabric and a slight shift in position stood in the way of something far more intimate than what they'd already done.

Lily suddenly felt rather flustered.

Just then, blinding sunlight burst over the bed as the curtains all pulled back at once and the voice of Sirius Black boomed, "Nice to see you finally joining us for a sleepover, Evans."

Her hands had gone instinctively to cover her face at the sudden assault of sunlight, and she turned her head to groan into the pillow.

"Hey, now," Sirius continued jovially. "I'd show a little more enthusiasm if you want me to save you any waffles."

That got her attention. Lily sat up slowly, feeling both confused and intrigued, and she clutched the duvet high to her chest even though she was already wearing James's shirt.

"What—"

Sirius was standing at the end of the bed, leaning against the post with his arms crossed, next to a small table bursting with plates of eggs, waffles, fruit, coffee, and juice.

Lily's jaw dropped. "How—"

James was sitting up next to her. "That'd be Wemby," he answered.

Lily swung her head around to look at him. How did he manage to look even more adorable with his hair disheveled from sleep? "The house-elf?"

He smirked at her. "Told you they're good to have on your side."

Sirius bowed with a flourish before he started loading up a plate, and Lily suddenly realized she was ravenously hungry. To her surprise, Sirius brought the plate over to her, setting it in her lap.

"Plate one," he said, handing her a fork and a napkin.

"One?" Lily stared at him incredulously. "As in, I'm supposed to eat another one?"

He nodded seriously. "You missed two square meals, Evans. Gotta get you back up to full strength."

Lily gave him a small smile and cut into her waffle.

Beside her, James called over to Sirius, "Where's mine, then?"

Sirius was walking toward his nightstand, but he turned to grin at James over his shoulder.

"You can get your own plate, Jamesie. Surely that's not too hard for you?"

Lily stole a glance at him, smirking as she chewed. James was shaking his head at his friend, fighting a smile.

Just then, Remus and Peter came into the dorm, laughing about something, but they broke off their conversation as they saw Lily in James's bed, though neither looked surprised. Lily belatedly supposed that the pile of her clothes by their shower had probably been a dead giveaway.

"Morning, Lily," Peter said happily, then added with a wink. "Glad to see you're feeling better, then."

Lily blushed, not entirely sure she was following. "Erm, thanks, Peter."

Remus held up his backpack, then went to set it in the lavatory, telling her as he went, "Got a change of clothes for you from Marly."

"Oh, thanks, Reme!"

He winced slightly as he wandered over toward the end of James's bed, though he was still smiling. "You might not want to thank me yet. We sort of put it out that something you'd been working with in the dungeons had made you suddenly ill, and that you'd taken over our lavatory as your sickroom."

Lily looked from Remus to Peter. "Well, that's not that bad, I mean I prefer that over—"

Remus was shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "You smelled something foul, Lily."

Lily choked on her juice. "You—oh, Merlin—people think—"

Sirius had resumed his lazy pose against the bed post, chuckling to himself. "That you were sick all over yourself? Yes, Evans." He must have seen her wide eyes because then he added, "Hey, there's no shame in falling victim to sudden poisoning, it could happen to the best of us."

Peter sat on the edge of his bed, on the other side of James's. "It'll roll over. Remember when Sirius actually was sick all over himself? People talked for like two hours and then forgot."

Sirius gave Lily a pointed look. "And they all saw me. You were all covered up in a cloak like a lady, thanks to this knight right here."

He was nodding toward James, who was apparently finally able to stand up and was walking around the bed to make himself a plate of breakfast. "I'll take credit for getting you through the crowd, but Bones gets credit for the cloak." He grinned over at her. "Might just want to buy him a new one, Evans."

Lily succumbed to laughter even as her face burned. "I can't believe—" She cut off, shaking her head, then took in the four of them around her. Sirius, looking like a different person entirely as he joked playfully with James, who was dishing a hearty amount of eggs on his plate, and then Remus, one hand in his light brown hair as he looked at her quizzically, like he was unsure of her reaction, and Peter, sweeping his dirty blonde hair over his brow with a shake of his head, still smiling that bubbly, good-natured smile of his.

"Thank you," Lily said quietly. Looking from Peter to Remus, and then over to Sirius. "I mean it. For—all of this."

Remus smiled at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's what friends do, Lily."

"And you're more than just our friend, Evans," Sirius said, and Lily didn't miss how both her and James swung their heads around to look at him.

Sirius looked at James. "Oh yeah, we all talked without you last night and decided, but I guess we technically need your vote."

James stared at Sirius blankly. "For what?"

Sirius nodded toward Lily. "To bring her in."

James's eyebrows went high on his forehead.

Remus cut in, "Not—not all in, just—enough. To help with Operation Ni—"

"Shh, Moony," Sirius scolded, "you can't say that until Prongs's voted."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well how is he supposed to know exactly what we voted on, then?"

Lily set her plate aside. "How about," she started, and saw four pairs of eyes immediately swivel over to her, "you all look out the window for a second, and I'll just go in the loo and freshen up a bit?"

Remus chuckled, but then nodded. "Yeah, good call, Lil."

They all gathered near the large window on the other side of James's bed, politely turning their backs to her so she could slide from under the blankets and make her way to the lavatory without them ogling how James's shirt barely covered her arse.

Marlene, bless her, had packed her an assortment of kit, and Lily set to brushing out her hair, cleaning her face, and then pulling on fresh clothes, smirking to herself as she saw the outfit Marlene had picked out for her: leggings, presumably because a sick Lily would want to be comfortable, but then a strapless bra and oversized knit that was absurdly comfortable but that had a wide neckline prone to falling off a shoulder, presumably because Marlene knew she'd be around James, at whom Marlene had caught her staring multiple times now. Lily sighed and fluffed her hair out around her, trying to cover up more skin.

Having given them several minutes to chat amongst themselves, Lily exited the lavatory and saw the four of them hastily cut off conversation as they all looked up at her. Her gaze landed on James, who made no pretense of looking her up and down, his eyes seeming to flash behind his glasses.

Lily cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. "So, erm, I guess I'll just—"

Sirius beckoned her over. "Not so fast, Evans, you still have one more plate to eat."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Black—"

"And," he talked over her, "you're staying for your first Marauders' Meeting."

"My first—what?"

Remus smiled at her. "Marauders' Meeting. With us, the Marauders."

Lily looked between between them incredulously. "You—you lot've fucking named yourselves?"

They all laughed, and James chimed, "Obviously, Evans. Don't tell me you thought we hadn't?"

Lily stared at them, opening and closing her mouth, at a loss for where to even begin.

Remus elbowed her lightly, and Lily looked up to see his soft brown eyes twinkling. "You're sworn to secrecy, Lily."

She nodded. "Okay."

"And if you don't want any part in this, that's fine, we'll understand. But we know the Slytherins are planning something that we think involves you, and after last night—well, we all know what really happened, and knowing you, we thought you might want in on this."

Sirius added bluntly, "We could also use a girl."

Lily quirked a brow at him. "In on…what, exactly?"

Remus smirked. "Operation Niffler."

Lily burst into snorting laughter. "What?"

Peter looked completely serious as he said, "Niffler, you know. Cause we're sniffing out information like gold."

Lily could only stare at him, her surprise taking her somewhere beyond laughter, but Sirius and James had lost it completely, shoulders shaking as they tried desperately to recover themselves, and even Remus was pinching his eyes in his fingers, shaking his head as laughed to himself and said, "Well, I—yes, that is the, uh, gist—"

Understanding was dawning on her. She stared at Sirius and James, both wiping their eyes as they stood partially doubled-over. "You called it reconnaissance mission. On Friday."

James grinned at her. "Yes."

"You're actually all…spying on Slytherins?"

He rolled his eyes. "Isn't that exactly what I told you we were doing?"

"Yes, but—"

To her surprise, Sirius was the first one to change the tone of the discussion. "This is real, Evans. They're bringing the war out there inside. And yeah, our Marauder Missions over the years have just been doing pranks and whatever, but this isn't that. This is espionage."

It sounded ridiculous, but something about the way he said it, the look in his eye just then, something cold and callous, made her believe him.

"How?"

James took over, holding up a piece of folded parchment. "Remember this?"

Lily's eyes narrowed. "You kept looking at that. I saw dots, lines—"

"Because it's a map."

She lifted her brows at him. "A map."

He nodded. "That we made."

"You made a map?"

"Of Hogwarts—"

"No way did you make a map of bloody Hogwarts—"

"—that shows every person in the castle at all times. That would be the dots."

Lily's face went slack. "Get out."

His eyes twinkled. "Dead serious."

"But—how?"

Sirius chuckled. "A lot of nights out of bed and a Homonculous Charm."

Lily looked between them. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

James shook his head. "No, we're really not. It's how I knew you were walking into a trap that day, I saw you on the map."

"Show me."

James pointed his wand at the parchment, holding her gaze as he said with a smile, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Lily was dreaming. Nothing else explained the sheer ridiculousness of what was happening, or the fact that ink was now spreading and sprawling over the parchment that James was pushing into her hands. Lily's voice was a whisper under her breath as she read, "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present The Marauder's Map…?"

But she didn't even have time to dwell on the absurdity of that introduction, because now she could see that the parchment unfolded into layers of lines creating rooms, marking staircases, tracing corridors, and all over the map were labeled, moving dots.

The gravity of what they'd created knocked the wind out of her. She looked up to find James's hazel eyes watching her, his mouth quirked in a smile. "What d'you say, Evans?"

She didn't even bother to think. "I'm in."

CORRESPONDENCE

Mum,

Evans and I took on a pack of seventh-year Slytherins together on Friday night when they were ganging up on a fifth year (we won, obviously), but then they (I'm assuming) retaliated against her last night, and she took a nasty hit. She's alright, but I think it shook her up.

As for other Evans news, I'd say things are progressing. The first Hogsmeade Saturday is next weekend. I haven't really decided if I'm going to ask her or not. I'm sort of thinking it would be better for us all to be there as friends, because even though it seems like we have something good going on, I get the feeling she's not ready for an actual date.

Say hullo to Dad for me,

James

---

Monday, Potions, scrap of spare parchment, desk of Sirius Black and Lily Evans:

SB: J's big spoon, huh?

LE: Shut up.

SB: You can't resist

LE: No comment

SB: We throw great sleepovers

LE: Ew

SB: Might even invite you

LE: EW

SB: Since you're part of our cLuB

LE: Don't I need a name…?

SB: Swish

LE: Pardon?

SB: Name = animal = personality

LE: Ahh. And I am…?

SB: Lily = cat = hot/cold

LE: Should I be offended?

SB: No, whoever you swish your tail at should be

LE: Touché, S

SB: Figured out what J is?

LE: Something that could impale a person?

SB: 5 points to Gryff + 5 to my heart

LE: You dog

SB: I see what you did there

LE: You're the most obvious

SB: Actually, you + J are

LE: Consider yourself swished

---

Miss Evans,

I'm glad you came to see me today. I spoke to Professor Dumbledore over Floo this afternoon. He will be back from the quarterly meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards on Wednesday and would like you and Mr. Potter to meet him in his office 7 p.m. to discuss the matter with you.

Professor McGonagall

---

Miss Evans and Mr. Potter,

Lovely seeing you both in class this morning. I sincerely hope you'll both join me for a casual little dinner I'm putting on this Thursday for the most elite of my students. Please see the enclosed invitations for details.

Yours,

H. Slughorn

LILY

Lily told herself that she went to the Heads' office to work on her homework that evening because it was the perfect place—fire crackling, candles blazing, bookshelves waiting—for a quiet, atmospheric evening to write her Transfiguration essay. The common room was too loud, the library too full.

It had nothing to do with the fact that a certain Head Boy also had access to that room. Not one thing. And when that certain Head Boy did show up—hair untidy, sleeves rolled, bag slung across his chest—that fluttery feeling that seemed to never go away these days (but that had especially picked up since yesterday's Marauder's Meeting) certainly did not erupt into a flock of birds in her stomach.

"Hey, Evans."

"Hi, Potter."

"Transfiguration?"

Lily sighed. "Yes, this is taking me forever. I've half-started multiple prompts because I keep changing my mind on what I want to write about. I swear this is McGonagall's tactic to get us to read half the library."

For once, McGonagall hadn't assigned them a singular essay topic, but instead had provided them a list of prompts relating to their current unit on Animagi, instructing them to do their own reading and select the prompt that interested them the most. Lily had initially found this approach curious, but once she had started reading, she saw McGonagall's point: the sheer volume of material on each prompt's topic alone was overwhelming.

James chuckled. "What's your current one, then?"

"Theory of the potion. The whole process is fascinating—I've never heard of lightening being used in a recipe before."

"Evans, only you would pick an essay topic that combines Transfiguration and Potions."

Lily shrugged. "It's extraordinary magic. And it's not even so much Potions theory as it is Alchemy. The potion's basically a fusion of all the elements: dew for water, lightening for fire, moonlight for air, and human component for earth."

She set her quill down, staring over her desk as inspiration struck. "That's it! That's my angle on the theory—the potion's an alchemical process, and maybe it's the combination of all the elements that allows for transmutation between species."

This all came out in a rush, and she looked up at James, finding him leaning against the front of his desk, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"You know you're the smartest witch I've ever met?"

Lily flushed, always bashful at compliments.

James wasn't done. "You're getting an 'O' on that essay, I'm calling it right now. And I'm taking half the credit, because you came up with that theory when you were talking to me."

She rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. "I'll be sure to leave a footnote alongside my citations for McGonagall: alchemical thoughts prompted by Potter's smart-arse remark."

James laughed with her, and Lily found herself ogling how he leaned against his desk just then. His hands held onto the edge, one leg casually stretched a leg out in front of him, and somehow the pose emphasized his shoulders through his button-down shirt and tightened his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and made his trousers bunch under his hips from how they fit slim against his legs. It was a pose that managed to highlight how incredibly fit he was, while he also looked perfectly at ease, like he wasn't even trying to look like the most attractive thing she'd ever fucking seen.

Merlin, she needed to stop. She had a plan, or had she already forgotten?

"So what're you writing about, then?"

Lily thought he looked almost shy for a moment as he reached up a hand to drag through his hair. "Uh, I did the prompt about the subconscious human-animal connection. How a person's inner psychological traits are reflected in the animal they become."

Why was hearing him talk school so damn sexy? She studied with boys all the time—Garrytt, Edgar, and Remus being the most frequent—and never once had she felt so stirred from all the intelligent things they said.

"Did? As in, you're done?"

He nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah, finished yesterday."

"Well, that makes me feel like a slacker."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You have two more subjects than me."

Lily studied him for a moment. "Do you…believe that? What you wrote about? The human-animal connection?"

James looked surprised by her question. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do. It's similar to Patronus theory, really. The Patronus and the Animagus form are usually the same."

Lily smirked at him. "And having written this essay, what would you guess my Animagus form would be, Potter?"

James chuckled, that crinkle-eyed grin spreading over his face, and Lily felt her stomach swoop.

"Well, you share a lot of traits with Pan, so I'd probably go with some sort of feline."

"Oh? Do elaborate."

"Uh, well, you both have green eyes."

"How obvious."

James's mouth twitched up in a smile. "You're independent."

"True."

"You both like to cuddle me in my bed."

Her stomach fell through the floor. "Potter—"

But he ignored her and kept going. "You both get along with everyone. And you sort of choose when you want attention. Like if you're in the mood, you initiate with people, and if you're not, you just give out side-eye so people will leave you alone."

Her mouth fell open, her pulse picking up its pace. She wasn't sure she had ever felt so seen.

James's brow furrowed. "But I've never seen Pan get aggressive, whereas you have a temper. And it's fucking scary, Evans, because it can be rash, like when you have a go at me, or it can be calculating, like when we took on those Slytherins on Friday."

He watched her that closely? He noticed details of her temperament like that? Was he studying her as much as she had found herself studying him?

"So a tiger, maybe?"

She arched a brow at him. "A tiger?"

He held her gaze. "Yeah, I'm gonna go with that."

"And what are you?"

He unfolded himself from where he leaned against his desk, going back around to his bag in his chair. "That is for you to figure out, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well, right now it'd be nice if you could go be something quiet, like a—a deer, so I can focus on finishing this essay."

James froze, staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

"What?" Lily thought back over what she said and supposed it had been a bit harsh. "Was that too rude? I didn't mean it like that, I just—"

He shook his head, looking back at his desk. "No, no, you're fine, I just—it's nothing. Remembered something else. Not important."

"Oh-kay."

He held up his worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which she had just looked through the other night, that wad of parchment still stuffed just inside the cover, and gave her a small smile. "I'll be out of your way, quiet as a deer."

She nodded, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he sat in one of the squishy armchairs in front of the fire, feet propped on the ottoman and Quidditch materials open in his lap, and then returned to her Transfiguration essay.

Having finally settled on a topic that intrigued her, her work flowed, and she fell into a focused state of scratching words across the parchment. If it wasn't for the occasional sounds of pages flipping or another quill scratching when she momentarily paused, she might've forgotten James was there. At long last, her essay finished, Lily set down her quill and rolled out her wrist with a sigh before standing and stretching her stiff knees.

Lily wasn't sure what made her do it, but she wandered over to the other armchair and curled up in it, propping her chin with her palm as she gazed toward James.

"Well, it has to be an animal that can sit still, because you're not nearly as fidgety as some of your friends."

He glanced up at her over his glasses, a smile playing on his lips. "Studying me now, are you?"

He had no fucking idea.

"And I'm thinking it'd be something that can fly."

"Why's that?"

"Because you seem to love it, and you're bloody good at it."

He looked up at her sharply. "Evans, was that a…compliment?"

She flushed, and he grinned. "That was, you just gave me a bloody compliment."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm not blind, Potter. I watch Quidditch matches same as every other Gryffindor."

He smirked and returned to his parchment, which Lily thought from the squiggles and arrows looked like notes for plays and formations. "Well, feel free to keep going, Evans."

Lily studied him. Strong, but quiet strength. Bold, but more controlled about it now. Commanding, like she'd said before. Loyal. Gentle, like when he took care of her. But also intense, like when—

James was staring at her. Oh, fuck, had she really just said all that out loud?

"Like when I what?"

Merlin, she bloody did. Damn, damn, damn.

Lily closed her eyes briefly, swallowing hard. "Nothing, just—you're just…intense."

He arched a brow. "So are you, Evans."

"So"—she cleared her throat—"some kind of bird, like a—an eagle, maybe?"

He laughed quietly. "I've never thought about that, but yeah, I guess it could make sense."

Lily nodded, suddenly feeling very awkward and slightly overheated, and got up to head back to her desk, thinking she would pack up and head back upstairs. Her heart was beating too fast. She had just said too much out loud that she hadn't meant to say. She was supposed to be fighting this malady, not falling further into it by dwelling on the positive attributes of his fucking personality.

It wasn't until she had gotten closer to her desk and stopped walking that she heard it: his footsteps, soft behind her. Lily turned, seeing him approaching her with hands in his pockets, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Evans—"

She held her breath as he took another step toward her, closing the gap between them. He brought his hands up to gently hold her neck, swipe thumbs over her cheeks, and there was something almost hesitant about his movements, like he was second-guessing himself. His eyes flitted between hers, a strange expression on his face, something intense but also tentative, and he leaned down slowly, giving her time to stop him, to pull away before it even started.

She thought she understood. Somehow, even though she'd already gotten very intimate with him on two other occasions, everything about being with him just then felt different. New. Heightened. More meaningful, maybe. Because it was more…deliberate. For once, they weren't trapped somewhere by forces outside their control; they weren't jacked up on adrenaline from some bizarre situation; they weren't acting out of the heat of some lusty moment; they were just alone together, on a Monday evening, after a normal school day, and instead of going back to the common room to hang out with their friends, he was asking her to stay.

Her stomach was fluttering wildly, her heart lodged in her throat. Lily slowly brought her hands up to his chest, breaking their gaze as she busied her fingers with his tie.

"Potter, I—"

This was it. This was the moment she needed to tell him. What she had planned before. That they had to just be friends. That they couldn't do…this anymore.

He held her face, waiting. His eyes had faint smudges underneath them, like he hadn't gotten good sleep, and the flickering of the firelight cast shadows over his cheekbones. He was biting his lip, studying her, almost like he was bracing for what she might say.

And suddenly, she couldn't say it. She didn't want to say it. Bloody hell, what was wrong with her?

"Evans?"

Her voice came out in a whisper. "I don't know."

"You don't know…what? Exactly?"

Her mouth betrayed her again: "Why I want you to kiss me right now."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Well I can tell you that."

"Oh, really?" Lily rolled her eyes. "By all means enlighten me, Mr. Psychoanalysis."

His eyes twinkled at her. "Well, I am the dashingly handsome rogue who performed your broom closet and, I presume, your common room sofa deflowerings—"

Lily felt heat flood her cheeks; he didn't know the half of it. "You're ridiculous—"

"—and also because you fancy me."

She froze, swallowing hard.

James chuckled softly, not waiting for her to regain the ability to speak, though she got the impression that her confirmation of that information was somehow not necessary, and his voice was low, raspy, as he said, "I fancy you too, Evans."

Those words in his voice set her blood thudding violently through her veins. She felt immobilized, like her tongue was lodged to the roof of her mouth and her limbs were stuck. How did he do that, just speak his feelings like it was so damn easy?

"And we're gonna make out now, yeah?"

He didn't wait for her reply, just brought his mouth down to hers, something sensual and soft. And how did his mouth do that, just instantly relax her and wipe her mind blissfully blank? She could feel the tension fall from her shoulders as she let herself be pulled against him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he slowly walked her back one step, then another, until the backs of her legs were hitting the side of her desk and suddenly her hands had found his hair and his hands had untucked her shirt, and he was leaning her back over her desk, his touch searing her skin, his mouth slanting deeply over hers, and she felt him, pressing firmly into her stomach, and that was when she knew she was in serious trouble, because even without any Firewhisky, and without any Slytherin drama, and without being entrapped in any closed spaces, she somehow wanted him more.

"Potter," she gasped between kisses.

"Hmm."

"D'you think—we could deflower—this office?"

He stalled, smiling at her. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

"Yes, well. You know what they say about great minds and all that."

James grinned as he lowered his mouth to her neck, exploring every slope and dip with lips and tongue as his hands roamed her waist and back. Lily sighed in pleasure as she tilted her head for him, gently tugging his own shirt free from where it was tucked, seeking the soft skin of his sides, the ridges of his obliques, the rippled muscle of his back.

They moved almost leisurely, unhurried, like the fact that they were no longer facing the unknown of touching each other had made them want to slow down, savor it for what it was—pleasure. Pure, addicting, electric pleasure.

James had found his way back to her mouth, and as he kissed her, his hands wandered to where they'd gone before only out of necessity: to her buttons.

He pulled back slightly, his nose still nuzzling her cheek, as he breathed, "Is this okay?"

Lily breathed back a throaty, "Yes," and set her own fingers to unbuttoning his shirt, untying his tie. The candles by her desk had started burning low, the distant fire in the grate casting darker shadows over his torso. They broke apart to peel their shirts from their arms, letting them drop to the floor, and then Lily watched James drink her in. For reasons she hadn't wanted to admit to herself, she had put on a pale pink bra that morning, something almost the color of her skin, that was edged in delicate lace and that she had bought with the intention of not minding if a boy ever saw it.

He looked back at her with heated eyes, and his voice was hoarse as he said, "I'm going to admire this for thirty seconds, and then it's off."

Lily barely had time to process that before he was bending down to her, helping her settle on the edge of the desk so she could lean back on her palms for him. True to his word, James trailed kisses over the slopes of her curves, cupping her with his hands, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs, and then he was reaching around her, unhooking the clasp, tossing the pricey pink contraption away without a further thought, and ducking to take her breast in his mouth.

Her head fell back in a sigh of pleasure as his tongue swirled over her skin, lighting up that electric wire even more intensely than before. He lavished one, then the other, a medley of kisses and licks and sucks and the merest hint of those sharp teeth, and when he was finally done he hovered his face in front of hers, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes liquid in the flickering candlelight.

"Evans." His voice was soft, low. "I am going to make you feel the equal opposite of what you went through on Saturday."

Lily stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I want you to come so hard, and feel so good, that you don't even remember what Saturday felt like."

She didn't have words to respond to that, so she kissed him and let him pull her up against him so she was just leaning against the edge of her desk, his legs slatted between hers. He slid hands up her legs, under her skirt, and went immediately to her knickers, pulling them down gently until they fell the rest of the way to the floor.

Lily felt breathless, barely believing this was happening. He had her worked into such a state of arousal that she couldn't think straight, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

That was quickly remedied with his fingers reaching back under her skirt, giving her light presses and traces and shallow dips while he kissed her, something slow and open-mouthed that sent tingles down her spine as she felt his tongue trace over her lips just as his fingers dipped ever so slightly inside.

"Potter," she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, this is torture."

He smiled. "I know."

She squirmed against him, wanting his fingers deeper, wanting more, and he kissed her over her protest before he threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer to him as he murmured, "C'mere," and slipped his fingers inside in earnest.

James's touch somehow felt gentler than it had before, or maybe it was just that she was so absurdly aroused that she was almost numb. With how she was leaning against the desk, her head rested right at the center of James's chest, and he cradled her against him, one hand against the back of her head as his other hand disappeared under her skirt, his fingers doing their delicate dance, stroking her in exactly the way she'd told him she'd liked before. Lily nuzzled into his chest, pressing kisses into his skin, feeling the soft hair that dusted muscled pectorals tickle her face as she looped one arm around his waist and reached the other for his neck, playing with the soft hair at the back of his head.

Just as he hadn't been hurried with her before, he wasn't hurried with her now, and it was slow torture feeling him stroke her so deliberately yet so languidly at the same time. Lily lifted her head, meaning to tell him him so again, but the words stuck in her throat as he met her eyes just then. Something about that moment—that eye contact as he cradled her head and kept stroking her with his fingers—rocked her to her core. She felt like she was out of her body, looking at them from above, as she understood the intimacy between them just then, the care and the gentleness in the way he held her, was touching her. It was like the way he had held her when she'd cried, or how he had cleaned her hair after her attack, but translated into this act, and she suddenly felt it so deeply, what he had meant, what he was doing: giving her pleasure in such a tender way so as to override all the hurt she'd suffered at the hands of her attackers.

Because he cared for her enough to do that for her.

Lily almost wanted to cry, and she might have actually teared up if not for the fact that James chose that moment to apply just slightly more pressure with his thumb, making her eyes instantly squint shut, her mouth instantly fall, and then his lips were on her forehead, his fingers gently massaging her scalp as his other fingers picked up their pace for the first time, and Lily was muffling a very different kind of cry against his chest, clutching tighter where she held onto him.

James's voice was soft, raspy. "I got you."

"Fuck, Potter."

"Get it, Evans. Ride my hand."

Lily hadn't even noticed she was rolling her hips against the rhythm of his fingers, squeezing her thighs around James's leg, which she also had no recollection of noticing was there. She whimpered, her pressure rising, and James chuckled.

Lily pushed out words in gasps between strokes of his fingers. "What—is so—funny?"

James nuzzled into her hair, his voice playful as he said, "Evans, I think I could come just from listening to those noises you make."

Lily flushed, her eyes snapping up to him, though it was difficult to keep them open as he kept swirling his thumb around that spot.

He held her gaze, looking down at her as he held her against him. "Yeah, come on. You're getting close, I can feel you."

She was. She could feel her body tensing, feel that pressure building that made her squirm even more desperately and clutch at his skin and whimper a nonsensical stream of, "Fuck—yes, fuck—there—Potter."

"Yes, Evans. Come on. Come for me."

She was there, she was right there, she felt ready to burst, and that next swipe of his finger was torture for how it somehow brought her infinitesimally closer yet didn't push her over the edge, and without any conscious thought her voice burst out in a sharp cry of, "Fuck, James!"

Lily heard it like it had come from someone else and she froze, lifting her head sharply to look at him. He was grinning at her, something dazed and adorable, and he stroked her again, admonishing her, "Don't lose it, Lily, come on," and then the next swipe of his finger was just as torturous, and Lily's head swam as she only vaguely comprehended that he had just said her first name after she had just said his, and then the next swipe of his finger was even more torture, her whole body rigid, her muscles trembling, and the next swipe did the same thing again, and another whimper, another gasped, "James," escaped her right before yet another swipe brought her infinitesimally closer again, and she could feel James's lips press into her hair as he murmured, "Let go, Lily, I got you, just come," and the next swipe split her open, her single ringing cry echoing in the room as stars burst in front of her eyes and that electrical wire in her body pulsed as James held her tighter against him and coaxed her through it to a muffled stream of, "Fuck yes, Lil."

Lil. The sound of that moniker in his voice left her breathless.

Also crazed.

Lily couldn't even wait until she came all the way down. She had to touch him, had to feel him, and she scrambled for his belt, button, zipper, wondering why in the hell she hadn't done this part earlier so he'd be within easier reach, and she yanked his trousers away, taking him in both hands, feeling the instant clench of his fingers in her hair as he groaned, "Baby, fuck, fuck," and thrust hard into her hand, his own fingers still lightly inside her, just circling her most sensitive spot in delicious, almost painful pressure. Lily looked up at him, pumping him just how he'd showed her he'd liked but adding her other hand beneath, and his eyes scrunched shut, a single, raw "Lily," ringing around them.

He didn't let up on the pressure he kept on her while she worked him, and suddenly, to her complete shock, she was there again. She met his gaze, her own eyes wide, and saw him grin through his own scrunching face as he took in her surprise.

"Yeah, Evans. You're gonna come again. I'm close, babe, come on."

Babe. Lily. What was happening? More importantly, why didn't she care? Deep down, she knew why. Because she was obsessed with him—with what they were doing. He had awoken something inside her that she couldn't get enough of. No boy she'd been with had been this invested in her pleasure; no boy who'd touched her had talked to her during the act like this. Somehow, fooling around with James Potter felt the best, the easiest, it had ever felt, and not just because he had better command of his fingers—it was something about his whole energy, his eagerness, his confidence, his unabashed straightforwardness. He made her feel delicate without treating her like she was breakable, yet he also made her feel thoroughly debauched without treating her like just a body.

And for the briefest of seconds, Lily felt more kinship with Adelaide Selwyn than she'd ever imagined possible, because if this was how James approached sex, she couldn't blame Adelaide for wanting him back one bit.

Lily's face was scrunching, a different kind of release creeping up on her, something still electric but softer somehow. James fought to watch her as he cradled her head, fingers buried deep in her hair.

"Lily—fuck—I'm so close."

So was she. "Don't stop—James—"

"Lily." She could hear the edge in his voice, feel the tenseness in his body, knew it was only a matter of moments, and just then, her release overtook her a second time, her pressure breaking as something less intense but more prolonged, and James stroked her as she spasmed around his fingers, like he was drawing them out of her, his quiet murmur of, "Yes, Lily," quickly turning into his own raw, "Lil—that's it—" followed by his own moan as he joined her, his warm stickiness covering her hand, and for a few seconds they coaxed each other at the same time while James held her crushingly against his chest, and Lily felt overwhelmed with affection for him, this boy who just showed her how amazing it was still possible to feel when she'd needed to be shown that the most.

They stood in dazed silence, still amongst heavy breaths and racing hearts and sticky fingers, and it wasn't until their breath had slowed down that Lily pulled her head up from James's chest and he released her head—the only clean hand—to reach for her wand on her desk. Lily didn't question how he was somehow capable of casting magic from her wand using his left hand, and somehow he cleaned them both up before coming back to her, taking her face in his hands and giving her the same soft, tender kiss he'd left her with the last time.

Lily did not feel entirely coherent. "Um, thank you?"

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me for hooking up with you, Evans."

She smiled shyly. "Yes, I know, but—you said—how you wanted to—"

"Evans," he cut her off gently, "that's not a one-time special. You can have that whenever you want."

Lily swallowed hard. James bent briefly down to the ground, then handed Lily her bra and shirt before shrugging his own shirt around his shoulders.

His voice was still soft as he said, "I'm not doing this with anyone else. Just so you know."

Lily looked at him as she adjusted her straps over her shoulders. "I—I'm not either."

He smiled at her as he did up his buttons, but he didn't say anything. Lily shrugged her own shirt up her arms, pulling her hair out from under the collar.

"You don't normally wear your hair down on Potions days."

Her eyes snapped up to him. He was right; she didn't. But it had been a lecture day, and for the same reason she had picked the bra she did, she had decided to wear her hair down.

"Oh. I, um, guess I didn't really think about it."

He quirked a brow, started tucking in his shirt. Why was that so sexy?

"You heading back?"

She nodded, tucking in her own shirt, straightening her skirt over her thighs. "Yeah, I should head up. Tuesdays are long for me."

"I'll walk you."

"You don't—if you want to stay—"

He shook his head. "You're not walking back by yourself, it's too late."

"Potter—"

He bent to pick up her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "And maybe I want to walk you anyway."

Lily's throat suddenly felt very tight, new heat pooling in her stomach. She was still dazed, not fully recovered from the intensity of having two orgasms in a row, and now she felt almost dizzy as she fell in step with him out the door, down the hall, through the opening behind the painting, up the elf passage, across Gryffindor landing, right up to the portrait hole.

The whole time, Lily's mind raced. Did he know she had formulated a plan? Was that why he was completely sabotaging it by acting like a perfectly normal boy who just wanted to walk a girl to her common room, and then being a perfectly normal gentleman who carried her bag for her the whole way, and then leaving her like a perfectly normal bloke who pressed a perfectly romantic kiss to her cheek before handing her bag back and saying the password to the Fat Lady?

It was a miracle she made it through small-talk with the friends still lingering in the common room, a miracle she didn't combust under the heat of his gaze whenever he looked at her, like he was replaying everything that had happened downstairs in his mind, a miracle that she got herself up the stairs and in her bed without incident.

And it was an even further miracle that, as she considered all the ways he had sabotaged her plan since she'd made it just a few days before, she wasn't sure she was all that fussed about it.