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.

9. Just Faking It

*TRIGGER WARNING* This chapter contains a brief but graphic reference to Adelaide's prior experience of sexual violence/sexual assault. This reference happens while Lily and James are talking about Chuck Davies, and is in the paragraph that starts with the words "The story had disturbed him…" if you would prefer to skip over that.

A/N: Hehe I'm so excited.

banrayar: This left me FLOORED! So many things. 1, You're a med student?! That is a amazing. 2, You chose to spend your limited free time binge reading this?! I can't even begin tell you how flattered I am. 3, Your Excel spreadsheet?! Everything you said in that first paragraph?! I am speechless. 4, Especially appreciate your compliment on being surprised this is my first fic, both because this is a return-to-writing fic for me and because if you could see some early drafts of some of these scenes you would LAUGH. The more I work on this and revise things I previously wrote, the more I see myself improving as a writer, and I've been really proud of that. 5, Lily pining for James! You literally took all the words out of my head, and I'm so happy that is coming across! Lali.M.D: Hehe you know what's coming! They'll switch off. It's been Lily these last two times just for character development so we can see her process of resisting/working through her arc of falling for him. We have some James coming up ;) Shaniso: Thank you! This is so sweet! Writing the Marauders together is so fun and feels almost nostalgic to me, so I'm glad you like those parts! And LOL at being jealous of fictional Lily, this makes me so happy, hah! TiffanyToms: Love seeing your name pop up! Hahaaaa I love that you caught that little lingerie detail. And thank you for that! I will keep them here and then maybe go back and take old ones out later. :) chaserspirit: The mom and dad vibes! Love that you commented on that, it's honestly one of my favorite parts of this chapter because it gave a glimpse of how other people view / look up to them. Josie: Sorry not sorry for the emotional whiplash :) You nailed it re: their relationship evolving through more difficult circumstances. While canon tells us their relationship is fast-paced (going out in 7th year, meeting Petunia/Vernon by Christmas, getting married at 18), I think there also has to be a deep change in the level of trust/respect Lily has for James to get it off the ground in the first place. It's been fun thinking through what that could look like, since it's not realistic to make it too abrupt, but it also happens fast enough to undo several years' worth of antagonizing in a relatively short period of time. ALSO the Animagi reveal is already planned and I LOVE IT SO MUCH, and ALSO be careful of what ideas you put in my head ;) , and ALSO, can't wait to hear your verdict after you finish this chapter ;) rmmurphy: HAH! Aren't we all? He's my fave. But seriously, I love hearing this because it means you're there with Lily, and her arc of falling for him has been really fun to dig into. Nina: Love how you described it as "softness and admiration" - this is exactly what I was going for, and I'm so glad it came across on the page! And Eddie! Such a sweetie! Also, the putting-clothes-back-on moment - love that you noticed that. They're caught in a strange place because they're physically comfortable with each other - they're past those pretenses - but emotionally? That's a whole other game! bouquetofsunshine: AMEN! Clara: Ah I love that phrase: "growing into each other." You are literally taking the words out of my head, I'm so happy that is coming across as I am imagining it! Lunane: Love all of this so much! I can honestly say I had never thought about Edgar and Dahlia getting together but now I might think about it…? ;) Also, sensual L+J may be my favorite side of them to write, so I'm glad you like it too!

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CHAPTER 9: Just Faking It

LILY

Lily chewed her lip, not packing up as quickly as the others, and she thought she saw Garrytt pick up on her cue, slow down his own process of stuffing Ancient Runes books and syllabaries and scraps of parchment covered in runic symbols back into his bag.

She had been turning it over in her mind all day, barely even able to give her piglet wings during Transfiguration, her attention span even worse in Ancient Runes with Garrytt to one side of her, Edgar to the other, but now that the moment was here, she was more resolute. Regardless of what she may or may not feel for James, she knew, in her bones, that she felt about Garrytt the same way she felt about Edgar. As in, respect and trust and admiration and all of those good friendship things and even an immense appreciation for objective good-looking-ness, but not a single fluttery feeling. Not a stir, not a tingle. Lily had even spent part of their Ancient Runes study session that evening trying to vividly imagine making out with Garrytt, pushing hands through that hair, having those lips on hers. It hadn't worked. As in, she wasn't interested. As in, the second she thought about lips or hair, her mind immediately went straight to James. Rats.

And so it was that she had come to the reluctant conclusion that she fancied James Potter far more than she wanted to admit, and while she could deal with that in her own right with her arsenal of methods (flat-out denial being at the top of the list, though it hadn't been working for her very well lately), it was now implicating an oblivious third-party, and that wasn't fair.

"Hey, Gare—"

Garrytt turned to look at her, stopping mid-hoist of his bag and setting it back on his chair.

"What's up, Lily?"

"Can we…talk? About Saturday?"

His eyes flickered between hers for a moment, like he was trying to read her. "Sure. Do you…still want to go?"

She met his gaze and said, "How about I tell you what I'm thinking, and then you can answer that question."

His brow furrowed, puzzled, but he nodded and said, "Okay, what's going on?"

Lily studied her hands for a moment. "Remember when you asked me, and then I asked if you meant a date date or a friend date, and you said that was up to me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course."

She took a deep breath. "Well, I've just been thinking, and—I think—I know—I only want a friend date, Gare. I know we had a thing before, and now we're friends, at least I consider you a friend, and of course I'd like to spend more time with you as friends, but that's…that's really all I want."

Garrytt gave her a soft smile. "Lily, of course we're friends. And I told you before, no pressure."

Lily nodded, returning his smile, feeling flooded with relief to have that out—to have it over. "Thanks, Gare."

He was pulling his bag back up around his shoulder. "You'd still want to hang out? As friends?"

Lily hoisted up her own bag. "Yeah, of course. It's kind of weird only seeing you in class these days."

He chuckled, following her down the row of shelves. "Yeah, it is. I think I spent every weekend with you and the Boneses last term."

She threw a smile at him over his shoulder. "And how much of that did we still spend studying?"

He grinned back. "Too true, Lil."

Lily stopped outside the door, expecting him to head the other way, but he made to keep walking with her. "I'll walk you back."

"Gare, you don't have to—"

He gave her a pointed look and lowered his voice. "Lily Evans, Slughorn's longtime published research assistant, letting herself get accidentally poisoned in the dungeons?" He shook his head. "I don't buy it for a second. It was Slytherins, wasn't it?"

Garrytt really was too smart for his own good. Lily sighed. "Yeah, it was. But please don't say anything, I just—I don't want the attention, I don't want them to get the attention…"

"I know. Your secret's safe with me, Lily."

They made their way companionably to Gryffindor Tower, pausing to lean against the wall at Gryffindor Landing as they finished their discussion on the brutal amount of Charms homework they'd been assigned that day.

"I should probably head back," Garrytt started, "but about Saturday. You just want to meet up in the Three Broomsticks around two? Have a couple drinks, catch up on life? As friends?"

Lily smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

xxx

The next evening, Lily made her way with James to Dumbledore's office, per McGonagall's note from earlier in the week. Her palms felt clammy, her pulse slightly rapid, though whether that was from the prospect of reliving the Slytherins' attack or from being one-on-one with James for the first time since their office Monday night, she couldn't tell.

They stepped into the narrow revolving staircase, and Lily chanced a glance up at him.

His voice was soft, his gaze thoughtful behind his glasses as he asked, "You alright?"

She nodded. "Mhmm."

He reached out, gave her hand a squeeze, then let go before they walked through the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said from behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him as James and Lily sat down opposite him.

"Evening, sir," James replied.

Dumbledore's face looked grave, his tone clearly worried, as he fixed his piercing blue eyes on Lily and said, "I'll get straight to it. Miss Evans, I'm terribly sorry this has happened to you, and I hate to have to ask you to relive it, but I hope you understand that I must."

She did, and with a deep breath, she nodded, and said, "Actually, Professor, I think it starts with the night before that, when Emmeline Vance came to get us from the common room because of a confrontation going on…"

Lily mostly looked at her hands as she talked, speaking in short bursts as she tried to get the worst parts over with quickly, and James occasionally chimed in with details he remembered, then took over when the story reached the point of Edgar bringing Lily to Gryffindor Tower, though he obviously left out the details, concluding only with, "And then we put it out that she had just been taken ill and helped her get cleaned up."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking between them both. "Thank you for telling me this. I cannot hide that it disturbs me, but I also must admit I'm not surprised. Between us, I have heard rumors that Voldemort has been encouraging his followers to retaliate in a show against the denial of the proposals set forth at Hogwarts and at the Ministry. Miss Evans, I fear you may be just the subject of that."

Lily cleared her throat. "Honestly, I'm not surprised either, sir."

He inclined his head. "And you are as stoic and brave as ever, for which I commend you deeply, Miss Evans, but I also need to impart a warning."

Lily's eyebrows raised.

"Do not let your guard down in thinking that they are satisfied. There have been whispers reaching my ears that some of Voldemort's junior followers at Hogwarts are planning some sort of attack or incident here at the school."

Lily's stomach twisted, remembering what she had overheard between Dolohov and Drucilla.

"And though we obviously have very stringent protective measures in place, we cannot be watching all students at all times. I fear you are likely to be a high-priority target for them, and I also fear that their intentions may be far worse than what they did over the weekend. Perhaps even life threatening."

She swallowed hard and started when she felt James reach out and take her hand. If Dumbledore noticed, he didn't let on, though his voice was more gentle as he went on, "I do not say this to scare you, but so you can protect yourself accordingly. Surround yourself with your friends. Do not wander alone. Report anything suspicious to me at once."

Lily nodded.

Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Now, there is another matter I'd like to discuss with you briefly. I am forming a, shall we say, counter-organization. A secret group of allies to fight in the war against Voldemort."

James's question was immediate: "Can we join?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Not yet, James. I will not allow anyone still in school to be a member. And I won't give you any more information just yet, for your own protection. It is sufficient for you to know that I'll refer to this organization as the Order."

He looked between them both thoughtfully, but his gaze settled on Lily. "But I'm telling you this for two reasons. First, to give you hope. I know the walls of school can sometimes feel stifling and small, but there are people more educated and experienced than you who are working to fight this war, even if you can't see it happening, and I want you to take some comfort in that."

Lily nodded, feeling surprisingly reassured by those words, as simple as they were. Dumbledore was right; in the minutiae of school, it was easy to forget that the adults around them were dealing with problems much bigger than juggling schoolwork and hallway duels.

"And second, because I want you to observe. My organization will obviously need members to fight against Voldemort, and while I have my own trusted colleagues recruiting adults, I need eyes and ears on your classmates, particularly the seventh years, for when you all graduate in the summer. I hope you know that I trust you both completely in your values, your character, and your loyalty to the fight against Voldemort—it is why, in large part, I chose you. And it is why I trust your judgment in helping me determine, at a later time, who may be trusted enough to be approached to join us."

Lily didn't miss that us at the end and felt a strange swell of pride mixed with terror. Even more than after that first meeting with Dumbledore, even more than after hearing Sirius talk about espionage and bringing the war inside, it hit her, then, just how dangerous the world really was. Dumbledore was forming a counter-organization to fight the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had picked James and Lily not just to be Head Boy and Girl, but to help him in his greater plan to resist Voldemort. And Dumbledore also feared for her life.

JAMES

Lily was far more rattled by that meeting than he was; he could sense it in her stilted steps as they walked into the revolving staircase, in her tight grip on the bannister, like she was holding herself up, in her vacant eyes and clenched jaw. As they reached the bottom and stepped into the corridor, he took her elbow and steered her down the corridor, around a corner, and into the elf passages. He had intended to march her to their fifth floor office where they could talk in private, but as soon as they were inside the elf passage, Lily stopped, slumping down to sit on a step, her face buried in her hands.

James sat beside her and put his arm around her as she slowly gave into shuddering sobs. He chewed his cheek, focusing on controlling the mixture of fear and anger that had been building up within him as Dumbledore spoke—as he had explained. James wanted to destroy every damn Slytherin in that castle, if only to protect Lily. She let him pull her into his chest, and he stroked her hair, grazed her arm with his fingertips. With a sniff, she pushed herself up, chuckling despite her tears.

"I really need to stop doing this," she muttered, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Doing what?"

She looked at up at him, her emerald eyes sparkling in the low candlelight. "Bloody crying all over you. I swear I usually never cry, and somehow over the past few weeks I've turned into a bloody spigot."

James smirked, scratching her back lightly. "Well, in your defense, it hasn't really been a year like any other so far, has it?"

Her arms wrapped around her knees. "No," she agreed softly. "It hasn't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Hey." He cupped her cheek, turned her face to look at him. Her eyes flitted between his own, but she was still. He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers tentatively. But then her hands were at his neck, pulling him against her, and her tongue was pushing past his lips. James groaned softly, and one of Lily's hands dropped to his chest, sliding past his stomach, resting low on his abdomen. James found his own hand mirroring hers, dropping down to her leg, finding the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, resting just under her skirt. He needed to touch her, but, admittedly, a narrow patch of stone floor in the elf passages was not the place to do it.

Giving her thigh a squeeze, he pulled back from her gently, taking her hand in his as he started to push up to standing.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's go upstairs."

She didn't protest, and, tugging her hand, he led her up the steps of the elf passages, through the portrait hole on the fifth floor, and into their office, where he shut the door and then pushed her against the wall, his mouth on hers, his knee between her legs. Their heads ducked around each other, trading heated kisses as Lily tugged his shirt from where they were tucked in his trousers and James slid his own hands up the back of her jumper. He pressed his leg more firmly between her thighs, grinned against her mouth as he felt her hips sliding against him, searching for friction.

"Evans," he gasped between kisses, "fireplace—c'mon."

He led her in front of the giant mantle, where a fire was roaring, and after grabbing a couple of pillows from the armchairs and throwing them on the ground, he lowered himself to sit on the floor, pulling her with him and laying her back against the plush carpet, a pillow tucked under her head. Leaning over her, he plied her with kisses, addicted to the heat of her mouth, her skin, her hands in his hair.

Lily's hands slid under his shirt, trailing up his sides and around his back, her fingertips leaving goosebumps over his skin in their wake. With a groan, he dropped one hand from her hair to follow the curve of her chest into her waist, then dip back underneath her jumper. Her bra was satin, slippery under his fingers as he cupped her, and thin enough that he could feel her harden beneath the swirl of his thumb over the fabric. Her own groan was soft against his mouth, and as he caressed her, he felt her hands slide up the back of arms and over his shoulders, up his neck and into the back of his hair. There was something so delicate in how her fingers curled against his scalp, her nails lightly scratching his skin, that he paused, resting his forehead on hers as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

She didn't say anything, just stroked his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. James was suddenly overwhelmed, like his mind had finally just comprehended everything that had happened between them up until that point. He was hooking up with Lily. Again. She was kissing him back, as fevered as he was. Again. If he could go back in time and tell his fifth-year self, sulking in his dormitory while he packed his trunk, that barely more than a year after that row he would have her in his arms in front of the fire in their secret Heads' office, he might've checked himself into St. Mungo's on the spot.

Her hand teasingly stroking him through his trousers brought his mind firmly back into the present, and he growled low in his throat, reaching down to run his hand up her bare thigh and over her hip. Lily had more curves than the other girls he had been with before, her hip not sharp bone but delicious skin that he could sink his fingers into and squeeze, pulling her closer.

She suddenly broke away, holding his face away from hers.

"What is it?"

She bit her lip as she looked up at him, her eyes deep emerald pools that looked almost black in the firelight.

"I feel like I should tell you something."

A boulder settled in his stomach, panic peeking around it, sniffing the air.

"You can tell me anything, Evans."

Her lips quirked in a small smile. "Is that a line, Potter?"

He rolled his eyes, pulling back from her so that he was propped on his elbow instead of resting his weight against her.

"No, of course not. I mean it. I think we've been through enough already this year for you to know you can trust me."

She laid her hands on her stomach, looking at the ceiling, and then she chuckled.

"Fuck, Potter. You know, I actually do? And you know how bloody weird that is to say? You've done my head in for years, we didn't even speak last year, and now we're not even a month into school and I—"

She broke off, looking at James curiously.

"You what?"

"I just—I trust you."

James got the impression that wasn't what she had been about to say, but he let it go. He thought he knew. He could feel it, a closeness with her that was hard to describe. A partnership, imposed upon them by the badges, that had been surface level at first but had somehow deepened with every bizarre situation they'd found themselves in up until that point.

He reached out his hand, tucked a piece of hair back from her face. "What did you want to tell me?"

She flushed, looking down at her hands. "I don't want to tell you, Merlin knows it's going to inflate your massive egotistical head beyond what it already—"

"Evans."

She glared at him. "The store cupboard. You're the—that was—"

He frowned at her. "No way was that your first time messing around."

She shook her head. "No, I've—I've done everything before, I just didn't—" She looked at the ceiling, waving her hands aimlessly before dropping them back on her stomach. "They never—well, I'd never—"

James's heart stopped. "No fucking way."

She just looked at him, her face blank.

"That was your first orgasm?"

"Not ever, just—in a way."

"I don't follow."

Lily fixed him with an annoyed stare, like he wasn't keeping up—or like she didn't want to have to say whatever she was going to say out loud.

"It was my first orgasm from a boy."

James's mouth fell open as the full meaning of her words hit his brain. "I'm the first bloke that's ever gotten you off? In the fucking store cupboard?"

She nodded again, a smile tugging at her lips. He was speechless, a swooping feeling soaring through his body; winning the Quidditch House Cup last year hadn't felt this good.

"I told you, massive inflation of ego—"

He cut her off. "How many blokes? Before me?"

She bit her lip, not answering right away, and James was too impatient.

"How many, Evans?"

She cleared her throat softly. "Six."

"Six?" He stared at her incredulously. "Six blokes, and not one of them made you come?"

She shook her head, a flush creeping around her neck.

"Chuck Davies?"

Once, the side-eye she gave him right then would have stopped him in his tracks, but now it rolled right over him.

"Are you really going to pry about each one?"

"Fuck yes."

She rolled her eyes. "What does it matter?"

"Because I've been jealous of every bloke I've ever seen you with, Evans, even last year when I wasn't speaking to you." He had spoken without thinking, and he saw from the flash of surprise on her face that she hadn't expected him to say something quite that vulnerable. His voice was quieter as he said, "Let me have this."

She stared at him a moment, then said, "Chuck was a Neanderthal."

James snorted into laughter, then tried to control himself as Lily gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry. It's just—he always talked a big game."

"Well, then maybe it was just me—"

"No," he said softly. "It wasn't."

She gave him a pointed look. "And how would you know?"

James took a deep breath. "Honestly?"

Lily nodded.

"Ladie had shagged him summer before last year."

"But—she told everyone you were her first time."

James sighed, running his hand through his hair as he laid back against the other pillow on the floor. "I know she did. But I think her time with Davies was so bad, she was embarrassed by it, just wanted to forget it. Ladie's like that, thinks she can fix things that she doesn't like about herself, or her life, just by lying enough to make it true."

He looked over at Lily. She was studying him, that curious expression back on her face.

"What?"

"What is with you and…psychoanalyzing people?"

James chuckled. "Want me to psychoanalyze you some more, Evans?"

She flushed. "Not particularly. Talking about our exes is weird enough."

He reached out his arm, covering her hand with his, and rubbed his thumb gently on her wrist. "I worried about you last year. When you were with him. Just from what Ladie had said."

"What did she say?"

James frowned. "He had been rough with her. And not…good rough."

The story had disturbed him, and though James often discarded most of what Adelaide said, suspecting that at least half of it wasn't true, he had believed her when she told him, ugly tears streaming down her face, body trembling, how Chuck Davies had pushed her head so hard when she was down on him that she had choked and gagged, and how he had then pulled her off him only to spin her around and take her violently from behind. It had happened recently when she told him, had been fresh in her mind. She had been at James's place; Sirius had moved in with the Potters that summer, and one night when his parents were out, they had some people over for a casual summer party in the Potters' back garden. Adelaide had drank herself into oblivion and James had held her hair while she emptied her stomach in the rose bushes, after which the words had poured out of her, like she needed to purge them right along with the champagne.

Lily's sigh pulled his thoughts back to her; anger seeped through his veins as he thought about Chuck with her, and he suddenly wondered if he should let her tell him at all—he might go hunting him down on the spot.

Her face was troubled as she looked at his hand covering hers. "He was…a little rough with me, too. Not at first. I was sort of being a tease, to be honest, I knew his reputation and I didn't want to feel, I don't know, easy. I was sort of surprised I liked him at all, but he was charming, and he was older, and I fell for it all like a fucking idiot."

She turned her head, meeting his eyes. "We only shagged once. In the Prefects' Bathroom. It was horrible."

James' insides turned to ice, his eyes wide. "In the…against the side? Like—"

She nodded, her lips turning up in a sad smile. "Your fantasy was much nicer than my past reality, Potter. Even redeemed that room for me a bit."

He had no idea what to say to that, so he leaned back up on his elbow and kissed her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "About Davies."

She shook her head. "It's in the past."

He nodded, then arched a brow at her.

"Don't think I forgot how we got on this topic, Evans. Bones?"

She chuckled, swatting at him.

"Not a Neanderthal. Eddie was very sweet."

"Sweet," James repeated.

"Yes, Potter. Sweet. If there's a how-to manual out there for being a perfect boyfriend, he had it memorized."

Jealousy clawed at his insides, and he heard the edge on his voice as he said, "Evans, you dated the guy for like six months and he never made you come—not once."

Lily just shrugged.

"You slept with him?"

She nodded; his insides boiled.

"You cared about him?"

She nodded again; why was he torturing himself like this?

"So how did he not—"

Lily sighed, seeming frustrated with him for the first time. "It still felt good, Potter. You have to remember what had just happened to me with Chuck before. I didn't care that he didn't know what the hell he was doing, because he's a good person and he was romantic and I didn't feel violated."

James nodded, waiting a moment to let her know he had listened to everything she said before circling back to the main point that interested him.

"He didn't know what he was doing, huh?"

Lily gave him another side-eye.

"Even, like, fingering you?"

"Especially that," she huffed, adding under her breath, "Clearly never had piano lessons."

"Er—what?"

She arched a brow at him. "You know how to play piano, don't you?"

"Er—yeah, since I was a kid." He had no idea how Lily had come to know that tidbit of information about him. He had learned to play on his mum's baby grand, had sat through hours upon hours of lessons from his eccentric Italian instructor every summer until his sixth year, his mum only agreeing to let him stop taking lessons once he'd come of age, though he had played long enough by that point that he could still play by ear.

"Well, let's just say that…translates."

Understanding dawned on him. "Oh?"

"I know you'll just keep pestering me, so I'm going to say it, but I'm only saying it once. To continue with the metaphor, Eddie knew how to play one note by pressing one key. You…play a fucking symphony."

James grinned. "Damn right, Evans."

She was flushing.

"Who else?"

"Garrytt Ollivander."

James' eyes went wide; that was a name he hadn't expected. "When did you—"

"Fifth year. He rebounded with me after he broke up with whoever he had been dating back then, some sixth-year Hufflepuff I think. We only fooled around one time. And then—don't judge me—I sort of messed around with…Fabian Prewett."

"Wait, when he was in seventh year?"

Lily nodded.

"And you were in fifth?"

"I was sixteen, Potter."

He grinned at her. "Damn, Evans. I mean, I knew you had a queue of blokes as long as the castle lawn, but I didn't know you had seventh years after you when we were year five."

Lily just shrugged. "It was after a match party, mostly just a fun snog, but it got a little handsy. He was pretty tipsy, that's probably why he, er—"

James arched his brows.

Lily pursed her lips. "You know what, let's just leave it at that. Anyway. Then there was Lane Abbott, he and I had a thing summer before last, we shagged once at a party at Marly's. Remus walked in by accident, he didn't tell you?"

James shook his head. "Nope."

"Hmm. I had asked him not to say anything, but I honestly wasn't sure if he'd still tell you guys."

"It's Remus. Of course he wouldn't say anything if you asked. He'll keep something from Sirius if I ask it of him."

Lily considered this. "He's really too good for all of us."

"He really is."

She fixed him with a pointed look. "Are you satisfied now? Hearing about my exes' inadequacies?"

"Satisfied? Are you kidding? Evans, you just told me I'm the only bloke who's ever gotten you off. Do you have any idea what this feels like for me right now?"

She met his gaze shyly.

James's eyes narrowed as he tallied the boys up in his mind and realized he was missing a piece of information. "Wait. You're missing one. Davies, Bones and Abbott last year, Ollivander and Prewett in fifth. Who else?"

She suddenly looked fearful.

"Evans, come on."

"No one knows, Potter. Not even my girlfriends."

"Well, now you have to tell me."

"Why?"

"Mates' fucking Code."

She rolled her eyes. "You just made that up."

"So? I won't judge you, Evans, I swear."

She chewed her cheek for a moment as she studied him. "I'm holding you to that. Is there something in that Mates' Code of yours about swearing and not judging and still being my mate even after I tell you a secret I have literally told no one else?"

He smiled at her. "If it means you'll tell me who the sixth inadequate bloke is that didn't have the fucking manners to give a beautiful girl an orgasm, then yes, Evans, the Mates' Code says whatever you need it to."

She blushed at that, and then she took a deep breath and said, "Dolohov."

"WHAT?"

James sat up, pulling away from her, dumbfounded. Lily and Dolohov? His insides writhed as he thought about the store cupboard. Had she done that with him?

Looking like she had expected this reaction, she sat up slowly, holding her elbows under her knees.

"Fifth year," she started, not waiting for him to ask. "Before those Slytherins started to get really into their blood purity stuff. I knew him from the Slug Club. It started at the Christmas party that year. He had been flirty with me all semester, mostly at Slughorn's stuff, which you never went to, so you wouldn't have seen. He didn't really talk to me in class. Anyway, we had snuck some punch at the Christmas party, and only N.E.W.T. students were supposed to be allowed to stay past ten, but we've always been two of Sluggy's favorites, and he didn't say anything when we stayed back. We…got a little tipsy and ended up necking in the dungeons. And then he started passing me notes, and we would…meet up. Just snagging, mostly, but eventually we kind of…messed around."

James was slack jawed as he listened to her, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke again. "How long? Did you two do this?"

"A few months. We were done by Easter holidays, that spring was when all the blood stuff really started taking off."

He stared at her. "Fuck, Evans. When I was asking you to Hogsmeade like a lovesick puppy, you were secretly meeting up with Dolohov?"

"You're still my mate, remember? You swore." Her tone was joking, but the pleading look in her eyes was sincere. She went on, "I was the one to call it off, actually—I didn't like what I was hearing about the Slytherins, and I had, well—I had gotten a bit bored with him, to be honest."

A smile twitched at his mouth as he thought back to how annoyed Dolohov had seemed at any mention of James' rumored prowess with girls, at Drucilla's jab about Dolohov having an ego complex with him. And here James had always just thought it was about classic territorial rivalry—Gryffindor versus Slytherin, in the castle and the Quidditch pitch—but now he saw it went deeper than that. Part of it, even if it was a small part, was about Lily. She had rejected Dolohov. She had been bored with him. And she had done it in the midst of a time when James had been relentless in his pursuit of her, and then Dolohov would have heard (obviously had heard) about James's reputation, courtesy of Adelaide, the following year. This was Dolohov's weak point; his insecurity that no one else would have noticed, would have even known about.

"And the store cupboard? Did that…mean anything different for you?"

Lily shook her head. "No. Back then he was nice, but he's just plain evil now. I wasn't, like…thinking about him, if that's what you're asking. Although it did seem like he must've learned a thing or two since fifth year, but I suppose that's true for everyone."

James quirked an eyebrow at her.

She gave him a sly smile. "Or maybe Flint just likes boring boys with bad manners who don't listen."

Swelling with sudden affection for her, feeling closer to her in a way that didn't make any sense, James leaned over and kissed her, pulling her back down onto the plush carpet with him in a tangle of limbs.

"Well, I have excellent manners, Evans." He reached up her skirt without preamble, swirling his fingers against the outside of her knickers as he lowered his mouth to her neck. "And if I'm with a beautiful girl"—he tugged her knickers down around her thighs—"I'm making her come"—he traced her outline, feeling her gasp under his touch—"every fucking time."

Lily's fingers curled over his shoulders, soft whimpering noises escaping her as he stroked her teasingly. She was squirming under him, trying to let her knees drop open, and James broke away from her to pull her knickers clean off before spreading her under his hand and returning his mouth to her neck. Lily tilted her body toward him, pulling his mouth to hers before dropping her hands to his waist, running her thumbs over the lines of his abdomen, sending tingles up his spine. She made swift work with his belt, button and zipper, shimmying his trousers and boxers down just enough to draw him out, holding him firmly in one hand while her other hand slid underneath him, cupping him softly. He groaned loudly, breaking away from her mouth.

"Fuck, Evans."

"I have excellent manners too, you know," she murmured.

"Yes, you fucking do," he agreed, hissing with pleasure as she squeezed tighter, tugged at him harder. Lily was smiling, nuzzling his nose with hers, as her hips rose to meet the rhythm of his hand. It was almost too much, her working him like that while she was dripping around his fingers.

"Hold on," he mumbled, letting go of her to reach up and still her hands. "Wait."

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, grinning. "You're too good, Evans. I'm just trying to last longer than thirty seconds for you."

She lifted her hands to his hair, pushing it off his forehead as she smiled at him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"What's this? All the rumors aren't true?"

He chuckled. "Maybe the girl starting those rumors didn't touch me like you just did."

"Mmm, good answer, Potter."

Her mouth was tantalizingly warm on his, her nails scraping gently against his scalp as she raked her hands through his hair.

When he thought back on it later, James still didn't know how it happened; one moment, they were lingering in a deep, open-mouthed kiss, and the next, he was inside her. He froze as he felt the initial pressure of sliding just past her opening, and she gasped against his mouth. His eyes flew open to meet hers, already frantically searching his face, her cheeks flushed. James vaguely realized that his hand was on her upper thigh, her leg draped over him. Wordlessly, she kissed him—and then reached a hand to the small of his back right as her leg tightened. Like she was pulling him closer.

It was all the assurance he needed. He rolled to be fully on top of her, slowly pushing the rest of the way in, groaning against her mouth. She was tight around him, slick and warm. He couldn't even think, all of his senses completely overloaded with her. He moved against her slowly, deliberately, wanting to savor every thrust, every gasp he elicited from her. Her hips matched his, her arms snaking up the back of his shirt, pressing open palms into his shoulder blades. James ducked his head to her neck, trailing kisses down her throat to her collarbone.

Lily's gasp was a whisper in his ear. "Fuck, Potter."

He smiled against her skin. "Back at you, Evans."

"Oh, right there," she murmured. "Like that."

James obeyed, maintaining a sensual rhythm, feeling her respond by sinking nails into his back as soft moans escaped her throat. She felt perfect, and he told her so, somehow even more aroused by sensing her smiling while he was inside her. She pulled her hands from his shirt to cup his face, pulling him from her neck so she could kiss him. It was overwhelming: her lips soft, her tongue warm, her muscles clenching around him. James moaned softly into her mouth, the pressure of his release now rising in earnest.

"Fuck, Evans." He slowed, hovering over her face. "Hold on—I'm getting too close—and I want to get you there."

She gazed up at him with liquid eyes, her hands gentle on his neck. "You are getting me there."

That familiar swooping feeling he only seemed to get from Lily spread through his whole body. He needed her, needed more, needed to feel her release all around him. He thrust back into her, moving more insistently now as her lips were on his neck, his cheek, his jaw.

But suddenly Lily's hands set firmly on his hips, and he heard her whisper softly, "Shh. Like before. Draw this out."

James's head swam. He had imagined doing this with Lily countless times, but never once had he imagined she would say something as sexy as that. He pulled his head up to look at her, took in her dazed eyes, her flushed cheeks, and he kept holding her gaze as he slowed back down, focused on stroking her as deliberately as he could. Somehow, it was even more sensual than it had been when they started, every slight touch sending ripples of pleasure through his veins. She was squirming against him, making soft, throaty noises underneath him. James reached for the other pillow on the ground, murmured, "Lift up for a second," and slid it beneath her low back. Lily was watching him but didn't say anything, and he pulled farther out of her, shifting himself up over her just slightly more, and made sure he kept pressure on her with his pelvis before sinking back in, watching the scrunch of pleasure flash over her face.

"That," Lily gasped, right as he did it again. "Fuck, Potter."

He did it again, and again, and again, reveling in her gasps and sighs, feeling himself getting dangerously close to his own edge, consumed by her softness, her warmth, the tingling jolts of pleasure zinging through his body with each slow thrust. She started to tremble around him, but he kept the slow pace she wanted, kept nudging the spot that was drawing her closer. Her hands left his hips to bury in his hair, pulling his face down to hers, their noses aligned, their mouths close enough that James could feel her lips move when she spoke.

"I'm so close—fuck, right there—"

"Yeah, Lily. Let me feel you come."

He nudged her again, feeling her contract around him, and kissed the corner of her mouth. She whimpered, eyes squeezing shut. Another nudge, another tremble. A small cry: "James." He smiled—she'd said his name the last time he'd touched her, too, like the intensity of her pleasure just then was enough to knock down that particular wall, if only for the time they were wrapped up together—and nudged her again with a gentle thrust. She fought to keep her eyes open, and he kissed her mouth softly, gave her another thrust, another nudge.

"Come, Lily."

Her eyes were boring into him, emerald green orbs glittering in the flickering firelight. Thrust, nudge, contract.

"Come," he repeated, "and I'm going to come with you."

Thrust, nudge—her face scrunched; she was contracting more now, her release creeping up on her. "Oh, fuck—J—yes."

J. No girl had ever called him that during sex. It echoed in his mind, pleasure threatening to burst through his body.

His next nudge sent her over; he felt her pressure break, her body go taut as she curled against him with a single, ringing cry, and he thrust into her again, his own pressure swollen, her spasms tugging at him.

"Fuck, Lil, I feel you. Baby, fuck."

Suddenly her hands were on his face, her lips right on his. "James—"

He came at the sound of his name in her voice, something raw and desperate like he'd never heard from her. Pleasure shuddered through his body, and he fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch her face change as she felt his release, as he pushed himself deeper and she wrapped her legs around him tighter, like she needed him as deep as he could possibly get. And then he was kissing her, his weight collapsing against her as he bracketed her head between his arms and her hands buried in his hair and her legs wrapped snugly around his waist and they rocked together slowly, reflexively, through their lingering shudders and spasms.

They stayed like that, their soft kisses and heavy breaths and the crackle of the fire the only sounds. James didn't dare move for fear that it would break this strange bubble of intimacy holding them together. He still didn't fully understand how they had got there—trusting each other, confiding in one another, having that kind of sex with each other—but he knew in his bones that he would do everything in his power to protect it, keep it.

Eventually he rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. "Fuck, Evans. Just fuck. I've never had sex like that."

Lily's fingertips rubbed gently against his scalp, tracing his hairline on the back of his neck, but she didn't say anything.

He opened his eyes slowly, saw emerald orbs already watching him, a mixture of curiosity and shock.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I—I can't believe we just did that."

He smiled softly, kissed her cheek, and then rolled gently off of her and onto his back, lifting his hips to pull his trousers back up before pushing up his glasses and rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

Her hand rested tentatively on his chest, and he turned his head, moved by the softness on her face. She looked dazed.

"C'mere." He lifted his arm and she scooted over to him, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing lazy circles on her back, her shoulder. He vaguely realized they hadn't even undressed each other—the way it had started had completely derailed the direction he had thought—had originally planned—for this encounter to go, but he wasn't complaining in the slightest.

James threw caution to the wind. "Evans?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing Saturday?"

He thought he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "Just going to Hogsmeade like everyone else, Potter."

"Do you have, like, specific plans? For Hogsmeade?"

Her tone was casual, conversational, as she said, "Yeah, I'm doing some shopping with the girls, I haven't seen as much of them as I'd like, especially Marly, and then I'm gonna grab some drinks with Gare, catch up."

It was like the room had suddenly run out of oxygen. His chest felt tight, his mouth dry, his insides turned to stone.

"You—you have a date?"

Lily peeled her head from his chest, looking down at him as she said, "No, not a date date, just like a"—she waved her hand aimlessly—"like a friend date."

James sat up slowly, shifting away from her as his heart hammered in his chest. "A friend date? What the fuck's a friend date?"

Lily shrugged, looking slightly alarmed by his reaction. "Just, you know, catching up."

"Catching up? On what, all your homework assignments?"

Lily frowned at him. "On life. Because we're friends."

"Since when?"

She looked at him like the answer was obvious. "Since last year. I guess, maybe you didn't know, but he dated Amelia while I dated Eddie. The four of us hung out a lot, spent practically every weekend together, even if it was just mostly studying."

He hadn't known that, or if he did, he hadn't paid any attention. His stomach churned. She had a whole life, a whole set of friends, that was completely unconnected to their Gryffindor bubble—and that he'd never thought about.

"So what, now you're both broken up with the Boneses and you—"

"Stop." Lily's eyes flashed at him, though her voice was determinedly calm. "Look, I get why you're jealous—"

"Do you?"

She faltered, bit her lip as she looked at him, like she was bracing herself for where this conversation was headed.

His heart was pounding, adrenaline pushing him to say what he was suddenly bursting to get off his chest. "If it's not blatantly obvious, I'm more into you than I've ever been in my life. I don't just fancy you, Lily, I have fucking feelings for you."

He didn't miss how the sound of her name just then sent a flash of shock across her face.

"And yeah, you going to Hogsmeade with another bloke fucking hurts—"

"It's not like that!" Her eyes were bright, a mixture of anger and something else, something intense, as she reacted to what he'd said. "You have friends that are girls! I've seen you be touchy with Mac, I see you around Dahlia, who's your ex-girlfriend, by the way, acting the same as you two always did—"

"And I don't go on dates with them to Hogsmeade—"

"Well it's a little different being friends with someone you don't share a common room with—"

"Doesn't mean you have to get drinks—"

"How is that any different than me sitting talking to Remus for awhile at a common room party? Or playing Exploding Snap with Peter, like I did that night we dueled the Slytherins?"

"Because that's not a one-on-one date—"

Lily huffed. "It's not an actual date, Gare's—"

"Can you stop calling him that?"

"What, his name?"

"It's a pet name, Evans, and it's making me sick—"

"Oh, sort of like Ladie?"

James glared at her. He supposed she had a point. Damn.

Lily crossed her arms. "Garrytt"—she made sure to enunciate the t at the end—"is a friend, and we are hanging out in Hogsmeade as friends."

"And is that what he wants? To just be your friend?"

"Well, of course it is!"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Yeah, we just talked about it last night."

James stared at her blankly. She had just hung out with him last night?

Lily returned his blank stare. "We have an Ancient Runes study group. There's only five of us in the class. Me, Eddie, Gare, Aiko, and Pandora. We meet up Tuesday evenings."

When he had Quidditch practice. He'd never known she got together with her Ancient Runes class. He was so used to seeing her around most evenings that he'd never thought she might be doing something other than her usual common-room-or-office routine while he was at practice.

"Is that—so this just came up last night?"

She looked embarrassed, a flash of something almost like guilt passing over her face, and she looked away from him as she sighed and said, "No, he'd—he'd asked me before, yesterday was just…a talk. About us only being friends."

James's heart was hammering again. "Let me guess, he just agreed with everything you said?"

Lily pressed her mouth in a line.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Fuck, Evans, you just told me you guys had a thing in fifth year. What, did he tell you he wanted to try again or something?"

Lily closed her eyes briefly, and James felt his heart lodge in his throat.

"He fucking did. When did he ask you? The first time?"

She just stared at him.

"When, Evans?"

Her voice was small. "The first week back at school."

"Before or after the night I helped you with Charms?"

She bit her lip. Then, "After. But before we kissed."

He swore under his breath as he got to his feet, tucking in his shirt, pacing away from her. "This whole—fucking—time?" He turned to glare at her, seeing her straightening her skirt as she stood up behind him. "You've had a date set with Ollivander this whole fucking time?"

"I told you, it's not a date date, not anymore—"

"The fuck it's not, at least to him! You have to know that, Evans."

She breathed hard through her nose, and somehow he knew he wouldn't get her to admit he was right on that.

He stared at her, hands on his hips, his blood boiling. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes blazing at him. "At first because it wasn't your business."

"And then?"

"And then—" She swallowed hard, her face losing some of its intensity, and she looked into the fire, bringing a hand to her face as the words tumbled out, "and then I fucking forgot. That I had agreed to go. I was so distracted, by you and the Slytherins, and then I remembered but I didn't really get what was going on with you, and I thought maybe I should give it another go with him, but then we had started to—you know, and I was trying to figure out what the fuck to do—"

"What to do?"

She looked at him blankly.

"We've been hooking up, Evans—"

"Yeah, and just because you call me baby when we do doesn't mean that I belong to you."

James froze.

Lily looked horrified at what she had just said, immediately trying to backtrack with, "I'm sorry, that—I didn't—I mean, it's…true, that just—it came out harsh—"

James cut over her. "I've been calling you that?"

Her eyes went wide. "You didn't know?"

James looked away from her as he chewed his cheek, his stomach seeming to plummet through the floor. He had actually been calling her things? Like, besides-her-name things? He was really so far gone that all the things he had fantasized about saying to her over the years had actually been coming out of his mouth?

Her voice was a soft gasp. "Shit, you didn't."

He ran a hand through his hair. "No, I—I guess I didn't…realize."

They stared at each other for a moment.

James thought his voice might crack as he asked, "Has any of this meant anything to you? With me?"

"I—yes, but—"

"But what? It's a yes or no qu—"

"—but it's not like we're going to start dating."

James's breath caught, like all the wind had just been knocked out of him, and he swallowed hard, his voice strained as he asked, "Why not, Evans?"

She threw her arms up around her before recrossing them over her chest, her own voice sounding strained as she hurled, "Because we're Head students. Because we've only been getting along for two weeks. Because no matter how close I feel to you sometimes, like when you pull fucking toad guts out of my hair, I am still reminded every day that I barely know you at all."

The force of those words hit James like a ton of bricks. Because she was right. Really, they barely knew each other. Sure, they had gotten to know each other decently well as kids, as classmates, the way you do when you're around someone as often as they had been, but the past year? As they'd actually grown up and dated other people and had social lives that had strictly not involved each other? He was suddenly feeling like all the ground he'd thought they'd covered over the past two weeks hadn't been very much ground at all.

"Evans, I—" He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than he had this entire conversation. "What you just said, about—feeling close sometimes but barely knowing you others. I…feel the same."

She stared at him, something open, like she hadn't expected him to say that but was pleasantly surprised by it.

He pushed himself on. "But I want to. Know you. And I thought we were—I don't know. Getting there."

She took a step towards him. "Where is there, exactly?"

James swallowed hard. He had been wrong—this moment was the most vulnerable he'd ever been. But this was his chance. "Being together?"

He heard her breath catch, saw her throat bob. He slid his hands from his hips into his pockets, waiting, vaguely wondering whether it was possible for the force of his heartbeat to launch itself out of his chest, whether he'd just combust on the spot—

"James—"

His stomach clenched. She'd only said his name around the act of sex, and as this was a decidedly heavier moment, this could either be very good, or very, very bad.

Her eyes looked softer; for the first time that whole conversation, she seemed nervous. Her voice was small, tentative. "I—this is all so new, and it's happened so fast, and—fuck, you've liked me for so long, and I've only just realized you're not a terrible person, and—"

James snorted into laughter, bringing his hand to his face.

"—and what the fuck is so funny?"

He could hardly keep the smirk from his face as he asked cheekily, "And did you realize I'm not a terrible person before or after I got you off in that store cupboard, Evans?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, fuck you, I knew I shouldn't have told you that—"

"But you did."

She sighed. "Yeah, I did."

James took a step closer to her. "You wanted me to know?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, I guess I did."

He took another step. "You trust me?"

Another nod. Another step. "You like me?"

He was right in front of her now, and her head tilted back to hold his gaze, her eyes searching his. "I—yeah. I do."

"Will you let me chase you?"

Her eyes went wide at that. "What?"

"You said this is new for you. And you're right, I've liked you longer, I'm more used to the idea. So if that's the reason why you're scared of dating me—"

"I'm not scared—"

He quirked a brow at her but just continued on, "then let's get you used to me."

She opened and closed her mouth, suddenly looking flustered. "What—"

James cut over her. "You like rules, yeah? Like having a plan?"

Lily's eyes narrowed. She didn't need to answer for him to know they both knew that was true about her personality.

"So here's a plan. Save October's Hogsmeade Saturday for me. It's a month away. And if you still like me by then, we go, and if you don't like me anymore, then we won't. And the only rule is that you have to be honest with me."

Lily stared at him, then closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head in disbelief as she said, "Are you—was that—did you just propose a plan to woo me for a month so I'll go on a date with you?"

He smiled down at her. "Is it working?"

A grin was slowly spreading over her face, though she was trying to fight it. "Potter, you're ridiculous."

"Is that a yes, Evans?"

Lily smirked at him, then did something James didn't expect: she lifted her hands to his neck and pulled his face down toward her mouth and said softly, "Yes, Potter, you can woo me," before reaching the rest of the way on her tiptoes and kissing him, something intense but sweet, and that familiar swooping sensation was back in his stomach as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her like she was everything he'd ever wanted, because she was.

And she was giving him a chance.

LILY

Lily was in trouble. Not actual trouble, mind, that never happened. Lily had never had detention, not being one to do stupid trouble-making things. Though she had a fiery temper, she usually kept it strictly verbal, and though she had said some rather choice things to people over the years, in front of teachers she had always kept her comments to just the appropriate level of cheek.

No, she was trouble in a different way. In a way that involved not retaining a lick of information in either of her classes the next morning because all she could still bloody think about was accidentally having sex with James Potter.

Well, okay, one did not accidentally have sex. Although it had started that way—Lily had already replayed it in her mind hundreds of times, and she still didn't know how it happened, only that they had been making out on the floor, that James's tongue did magnificent things to her mouth, that his hands on her skin lit her up like lightening, and that she had suddenly felt that delicious, smooth heaviness push just inside.

That was the moment it turned intentional. Very, very intentional. Lily had felt outside her body; her old lusty fantasies were happening. James Potter was on top of her. James Potter was inside her. James Potter had laid her down in front of the fireplace (like the most romantic fucking thing she could ever imagine) and had looked at her like he adored her. She had her hands in that hair, she had seen that grin when she moaned his name—his first name—and she thought he must have somehow gotten into her thoughts and read her memories when he told her, his voice soft and low, that she was the most fucking perfect thing he'd ever seen or ever felt. And when she had heard that moniker—Lil—in his voice and looked into his eyes as she felt him come, she had adored him right back.

She also kept replaying their talk after. Lily thought it might have been the hardest yet most rewarding conversation she'd ever had. At several points, she thought they had both teetered dangerously toward old rowing habits, and she had had her arms crossed so tightly only because her hands were shaking, her heart pounding in her chest as she simultaneously felt guilty over seeing him hurt, and annoyed that he was being so hypocritical about her having guy friends when he had even better friends that were girls, and afraid to talk about how she really felt, because she was only just finally admitting to herself that she liked him, and on top of all of that, she was a ball of nerves because she was bloody falling for him and he somehow made whole flocks of birds flap around in her stomach.

She was still somewhat in disbelief over the whole thing. But more than anything, she felt relief. Because they had managed to get to the root of it all: James was right in what the next step would be, and she wasn't ready. She felt off-balance. She wasn't used to him, used to feeling like this, used to having him be in her life the way that he suddenly was. She needed more time. And though she hadn't been able to articulate that to herself before, he had somehow managed to draw it out of her. And what was even more surprising was how his little plan worked to assuage her anxiety more than she'd expected. It was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders, the pressure to figure it out gone, the anxiety of the will he or won't he disappeared. He had made it all so simple. Get used to me. If, then. He had not only agreed to give her time, but he had given her his understanding and his patience, and something about that had unlocked a little thought in her mind that maybe, just maybe, she might catch up to him.

xxx

But as satisfying as The Conversation had been, and as blissfully wonderful as those post-Conversation kisses had felt, she could still tell that James was ticked off that she was going to meet up with Garrytt for a friendly drink on Saturday, which she still found absurdly hypocritical given that she had reassured him multiple times that her and Garrytt were friends, and because the universe obviously thought she needed more emotional whiplash in her life, her name came out of Dearborn's goblet again, this time followed by Garrytt Ollivander's.

He smiled at her as he stepped into the ring of blue light, just in front of where her fellow Gryffindors stood watching. "Loser finishes Runes, Lil?"

Her stomach knotted; they were good enough friends that he often called her that, but just then—wondering if Garrytt might still like her, knowing how her name sounded in James's voice, liking it better in James's voice—it just felt wrong.

Lily also didn't miss the flashes of surprise cross some of her friends' faces—cross James's face—as Garrytt spoke to her. Garrytt was usually quiet in class, never really interacting with the Gryffindors much, but now his demeanor had changed. His smile was playful.

Was he—flirting with her?

What was he doing? They had just agreed they were only friends!

She had to act normal, just behave like herself.

Lily arched a brow, smirked back at him. "Thanks for volunteering, Gare."

They bowed, a section of Garrytt's hair falling in his face as he held her gaze, but Lily didn't have time to think about how the sight of such sexy hair in front of those smoldering eyes didn't stir a single fluttery feeling—she only had time to throw the first jinx and plunge them into their duel.

This was Garrytt's first duel in this class, and he was good. Although it was no surprise that he was calculating, he was quicker on his feet than she'd expected, better at anticipating her movements than Severus had been—no doubt, she remembered belatedly, because he was a Keeper and trained to read such things. Feinting wouldn't work, then.

How to throw him off his game? How to win?

She hated the inspiration that came to her, but she wanted to win more. So she slowed for a moment, acted tired, let his stinging jinx hit her arm, winced with no exaggeration as she felt the burn rip through her shirt and over her shoulder, and then, seeing the horrified look on his face, the slight drop of his wand arm as he took a step toward her, she hit him with an underhanded Expelliarmus! and sent his wand flying from his hand and into her own.

His horrified expression turned to surprise, then into smiling laughter as he walked over to her, jostling her good shoulder while he took his wand back.

He kept his voice low, just for her, as he said, "Nicely done, Lil. I'll do Runes if you check it over, yeah?"

She was saved from answering by Dearborn, who continued with an analysis of their duel and critiqued some of the finer points of their techniques. Lily barely listened, too distracted by the look she'd seen on James's face as Garrytt had walked her back toward the edge of the circle, his hand still on her shoulder.

James was one of the first to turn and leave once class was dismissed. Garrytt, who had eventually dropped his hand from her shoulder but stuck by her side, said quietly, "We should probably get you to Pomfrey, that burn looks a bit painful."

It stung horribly, but Lily was willing to forego being healed if it meant she could escape this suffocating tension that seemed to be closing in around her and go scream into her pillow.

Garrytt took her silence as acquiescence, and prodded her toward the door. "C'mon, I'll walk you."

"You don't have to—"

He smiled down at her. "I want to." He elbowed her lightly in the ribs, adding, "It'll make me feel better after giving it to you in the first place."

Bugger. Seeing that the only way out was through, Lily let him walk her to the Hospital Wing. Being the perfect, normal gentleman he was, he also insisted on carrying her bag for her, and though her girlfriends had lingered to wait for her, once they saw Garrytt hitch Lily's bag up next to his own, they quickly scampered on ahead, Marlene and Mary both throwing her highly confused looks over their shoulders. Rats. She'd have to set the record straight later.

Madam Pomfrey patched her up in no time, and Lily insisted on taking her bag back as they left the Hospital Wing. She paused once they reached the corridor that would take her toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Well, this is me."

Garrytt nodded. "I'll see you tonight."

"Er—what?"

Garrytt smiled. "Slughorn's dinner party? You're his favorite, so I assume he invites you to everything."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just asked dumbly, "You're going too?"

"Yeah, sounds like it's a seventh-year crowd, Aiko got an invite, and so did Eddie."

Lily nodded. "Makes sense."

"I'm assuming Dolohov will be there, he's Sluggy's other favorite, so I think it'll just be the five of us."

"Potter's going."

Garrytt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I think it's a…Head Boy thing—why Slughorn invited him."

He shrugged. "Well, his mum does basically run this place with Dumbledore, so I suppose I'm not surprised."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Garrytt looked down at her pointedly. "Come on, Lily. Chairwoman's son gets the badge? Gee, I wonder who made that decision."

"Dumbledore did."

Now Garrytt's eyes narrowed. "Why're you defending him?"

"I'm setting the record straight," she said hotly, "because what you just said was gossip, and you're smarter than that, Gare. Dumbledore makes badge decisions alone, without approval of the Board. So if you think Dumbledore chose wrong, then think Dumbledore chose wrong, Merlin knows I used to, but leave Euphie out of it—"

Garrytt quirked a brow at her. "On a first name basis, I see."

Lily flushed. "Yes, because I'm Head Girl. And I don't care whose mum she is, she's one of the most impressive women I've ever met and she runs circles around a bunch of men in holding this place together."

Garrytt looked momentarily surprised at her outburst, but then he smiled at her, reaching out a tentative hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. Lily flinched slightly, confused by his sudden mood swing, and he pulled back, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry, I—I wasn't thinking. I just—you're cute when you're angry. And when you get all female-empowerment."

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, not pleased with his tone, but he just chuckled, shaking his head. "There you go again."

Garrytt took a step closer to her, resting hands lightly on her elbows. "Look, Lily, I'm sorry for believing the gossip. I don't know her. But I know you, and I know you are an excellent judge of character, so if you respect her, then I believe you. I do."

She nodded, feeling her shoulders relax. "Thanks. I'll…see you at dinner, I guess."

With a final squeeze to her arms, Garrytt smiled at her, said, "See you at dinner, Lily," and then turned to head off toward Ravenclaw Tower.

JAMES

James stood in front of the mirror in the boys' lavatory, running a smidge of Sleakeezy's through his hair. It actually could look quite dapper when he wanted it to, he just could never keep his hands out of it, the bad habit he'd had since he was young. But what the hell, he'd see how long it lasted. Hair settled, he adjusted his tie one last time, buttoned his sleeves, and then shrugged on his dress robes, going for the plain black velvet.

While Past James would have looked forward to Slughorn's little shindig because, though the Slug Club was still the prattiest thing he'd ever heard of, it would mean an opportunity to spend several hours in the presence of one Lily Evans, Present James was very much annoyed and thought that whoever came up with the idea of weeknight dinner parties should be fired, their taking up precious time where he could otherwise be flying, marauding, or otherwise avoiding the presence of the same Lily Evans.

It wasn't that he was avoiding her forever, per se. They had obviously had The Conversation, and he was obviously still falling hopelessly in love with her, but he also wished time could just fast-forward until after Saturday, because it irked him to no end that Lily couldn't see that Garrytt wanted to be just friends with Lily about as much as he wanted to be just friends with Lily. The plain discomfort on her face at Garrytt's hand on her shoulder had helped incrementally, but it had been quickly outweighed by the knowledge that Garrytt would still get a few hours with her in Hogsmeade on Saturday when James wouldn't, and he had turned and left class so fast only because he feared he might go ruin Garrytt's face like old times if he didn't get out of there.

If left to his own devices, James probably would've skipped Slughorn's dinner, but Lily confessed that she had never missed one of Slughorn's gatherings and she wasn't about to start now as Head Girl, so (this being Before his post-Conversation Ollivander Angst), there had been no question that James was going, and he had pledged his attendance to Slughorn when she did.

"Is this basically like his Welcome Back party, just smaller?"

"Pretty much."

"Strange food, schmoozing, forced conversation, the works?"

Lily had given him a sly smile. "The works. Also wine."

"So, when he says casual little dinner—"

Lily had pointed to the bottom of the invitation: Dress Robe Formal.

Ah, so it was one of those casual little dinners.

Having grown up at Stinchcombe Park, the product of an entrepreneurial millionaire with even more inherited wealth and an heiress to a Dutch fortune, James was no stranger to elitist mingling, but knowing that those descriptors of his parents was exactly why he had piqued Slughorn's interest left a sour taste in his mouth. It was exactly the reason he had rebuffed Slughorn's invitations years ago when they'd first started, and eventually Slughorn had gotten the message.

He had been serious when he told Lily that first night back that he wanted to be judged as himself, and not by who his ancestors were. But it was a fine line to straddle, because the perks of his parents' lineage were many, and not just because of the wealth. It was the little things, the connections he had that he had always taken for granted but that he was now appreciating more than ever with a war brewing outside the castle's walls: The strange comfort that came from knowing that Dumbledore and McGonagall were close with his parents; growing up with a group of other pureblood kids, like Mary and Sirius and Kingsley, who were like his own little extended family; understanding the undercurrents of the latest goings-on at the Ministry and having those pureblood friends to talk about it with, since they all heard different things from their own families; and feeling safe, in the way that he knew if he were ever in any kind of serious trouble, he had a network of people he could fall back on, who would be there for him, help him, cover for him, with money being no object.

All in all, it was as privileged as privileged could get, and James knew it. And it was why, in his own way, he had extended that net of privilege as much as he possibly could to his friends, especially Remus, who would otherwise have had nothing to catch him. James figured that he had no control over being given it, so he might as well share it.

Still, the elitist mingling was a drag. As were the strange foods.

James sauntered down the boys' staircase, finding Lily already in the common room, the rest of their friends already at dinner. He was always blown away by her, even when she had frizzy hair and ink smudges on her cheeks, but just then, she was simply mesmerizing. Her hair was down, in loose curls that fell just over her chest, and she also wore plain black dress robes, but underneath she had on a deep green velvet dress that made her eyes pop more than usual and that draped over her curves in ways that made James extra grateful that Past James had had the foresight to charm all of his trousers to hide any evidence of inevitable arousal in her presence.

He knew immediately that he had been wrong. Slughorn should not be fired, he should be promoted, and pretentious little dinner parties were not annoying, they were amazing, and so what if Garrytt would get to spend a couple of hours with Lily in a crowded pub as friends, because he was about to spend a couple of hours in her presence, in that dress, as her wooer. (Dare he even think, lover?)

He saw her smirk and flush slightly, and he belatedly realized he must have been staring. With a grin, he sidled up to her and brushed his fingertips against her waist as he said in a low voice what he'd told her before and should probably start telling her every day: "You're always stunning, Evans."

She looked up at him through her lashes. "You're pretty dapper yourself, Potter."

They made small talk on the long trek downstairs, and he followed her through the dungeons, to Slughorn's private quarters. His dining room turned out to be cozy, just a round dining table nestled between a stone mantle filled with bright green flames and a liquor cabinet that was overflowing with bottles. One wall was filled with memorabilia of Slug Club members past, and another was dominated by a painting of a very old and cranky looking wizard who got up and promptly left his portrait as soon as he saw Slughorn was dining with company.

When Slughorn had said "little," he had really meant it. There were only six seventh-year students: James, Lily, Dolohov, Edgar Bones, Garrytt Ollivander, and Aiko Chang. James hadn't expected Garrytt. This would be interesting. He also did the mental tally: Lily had hooked up with every boy, and he had slept with both girls. Yep, just a grand ole time.

Not one to skip over anything pretentious, Slughorn had set out place settings, predictably sitting Lily next to him, with James by Lily, and Dolohov on James' other side. The table would have comfortably sat the six students, but with Slughorn's added girth, it was a tight squeeze; he and Dolohov knocked knees as they scooted in their chairs, meeting each others' eyes and sharing a look that James thought was more mutual annoyance at Slughorn than at each other.

Lily had told him that Slughorn largely dominated the conversation, asking each student in turn questions about their family, connections, etcetera, so James mostly sat back and observed, steadily drinking the vintage Slughorn had unstoppered, which was deliciously smooth. Long minutes ticked by as Slughorn first questioned Aiko (whom he had sat to his right; James didn't miss that particular arrangement of his either), then Garrytt, then Edgar. James only picked at his food, not one to eat much at these types of things, which was probably more a byproduct of subconscious training growing up; you never knew when you would be drawn into more elitist mingling conversation, you know.

For the first half of dinner, everything was perfectly, almost surprisingly, boring. And, possibly even more surprisingly, sitting by Lily had been uneventful. She sat to his right, politely sipping her wine and sitting back in her chair, and James only had the faint whiff of the honey scent of her hair when she adjusted it to remind him she was there.

That all started to change when Slughorn was mid-way through polite conversation with Dolohov. Lily shifted in her chair, crossing her leg. She always crossed left leg over right; James had seen her do it in class every day for six years. But as he glanced down at the movement, he realized that though her dress had looked like it had ended just under her knees in conservative fashion, it actually had a long slit—up her left leg. And since she was sitting, that slit rode up even higher, to a patch of thigh that James had just grabbed just the night before.

Suddenly, the room felt very hot and oxygen-deprived. He finished his glass of wine, and Slughorn slid the bottle toward him. James reached for it right as Lily did, their hands bumping into each other. James looked at her, meeting her eye as she pulled her hand back, and he wordlessly took the bottle and refilled her glass before giving himself just as generous a pour.

Slughorn having finished with Dolohov, it was James' turn to be questioned. Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Mr. Potter! Our very own Potions legacy! Though I hear you have more of a hand for Transfiguration, now, yes? And, perhaps, a certain penchant for dueling?"

He had heard about the duel with Dearborn, then. James smiled politely. "You could say that."

Slughorn smiled at him. "And how is Euphie?"

Somehow, he wasn't surprised that one of the first things out of Slughorn's mouth was to ask about his mother; she was ubiquitous, having all sorts of relationships with his professors that he didn't know about.

"She's great," James told him. "Really well."

"I had heard that one of her brothers had died—Rudolph, perhaps?"

James nodded. "Yeah, he did. While he was abroad."

He didn't add that it had occurred under extremely suspicious circumstances, but if Slughorn had heard he had died at all, James was sure he had an idea.

Slughorn, for his part, truly did look concerned, and not like he was fishing for information. His mum had that effect on people.

"And is she alright? Is she getting on?"

James shrugged. "Yeah, she's getting on. It was hard on her this summer, it came as a shock. She was closer to Rudy than Will, but not as much as Bram."

Slughorn's eyes narrowed. "Willem always was a bit…difficult."

James was next to positive that not a single one of his classmates was tracking this conversation.

"Honestly, Professor, you probably know more than me on that."

Slughorn chortled as he poured himself more wine. "Eh, you're probably right. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something else about Euphie. I heard a rumor"—Slughorn's eyes glittered—"about a certain piece of treasure. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The tension sat thick on the table. He could hear Lily breathe.

"Er—no. I heard a rumor too, but—there wasn't anything to it."

They actually hadn't confirmed whether the oval sapphire in his mother's inherited jewel collection once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, but James wasn't about to tell Slughorn that that investigation was still underway.

Slughorn was studying him carefully. "I see…Well, it's unfortunate, I won't lie about that, a gem of that value, would have been groundbreaking, you know—but it has been missing for centuries now, should have known…"

James let him mumble, waiting for Slughorn to move on to the next question. But Slughorn moved on to Lily instead, and James vaguely wondered if the Head Boy note had been a ruse just to ask about the sapphire.

To his surprise, Slughorn asked Lily about her parents, with detailed questions about their jobs and their lives, like they were continuing a running commentary of updates with news that was only days old. With a pang, James realized he hardly knew anything about Lily's family, other than they were Muggles and she had one sister, with whom she had a strained relationship. But Slughorn only asked about her parents, not mentioning her sister, and James wondered if he had done so on purpose, seeing the genuine smile that lit up her face as she talked about them.

Done with his questioning of each student, Slughorn swapped dinner plates for dessert, and the conversation somehow turned political. James didn't miss how Edgar, Garrytt, and Aiko stayed silent, watching the discussion amongst Dolohov, James, and Slughorn with furrowed brows. Lily was also silent next to him, though he could sense her shift uncomfortably in her chair as the political chatter skirted around blood purity.

Dolohov drawled, "I understand some may have thought it was controversial, but the school legislation that was proposed—"

James cut across him. "Rejected."

Dolohov turned narrowed eyes toward James. "It was proposed."

He couldn't help himself. "Technically, it was introduced, and it didn't make it out of committee, which means it was rejected. It's gone."

Dolohov set his jaw, glaring at James.

Slughorn cut in, trying to contribute something he obviously thought was neutral. "It had been modeled after similar proposed legislation at the Ministry, I think."

"Also rejected. Right Bones?"

Edgar looked surprised at being drawn into the conversation, but his father was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so he would have had a direct influence on the fate of that bill. Edgar cleared his throat, then answered, "Er—yes, it—it was rejected before it got to the floor."

James nodded at him, and Edgar offered a small smile.

Slughorn was clearly trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled over the table. "We may have some aspiring politicians in our midst, eh? Mr. Dolohov, Mr. Potter, Mr. Bones, you all would be quite well-suited to professions in the Ministry…as would you, Mr. Ollivander, though I presume your career is already settled."

Garrytt just nodded.

Edgar chimed in, "It's where I plan to go, Professor. Though, I'm more interested in the Wizengamot—the legal side—than the political side."

Slughorn beamed at him. "And I dare say your father has already introduced you to Tiberious?"

Edgar nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'm to be the British Youth Representative for the spring term."

"Excellent, excellent…And you, Mr. Potter?" Slughorn's eyes twinkled. "I don't suppose we'll see you in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but perhaps somewhere else…?"

James chuckled good-naturedly. "Actually, I might be in that department"—he didn't miss Edgar's brows lift; would they both be working under his father within a year?—"Auror Office."

"Ah." He thought Slughorn's eyes looked a little too knowing as they studied him. "Yes, your talents will serve you well there."

Somehow, James knew that Slughorn was talking about more than just being good at Transfiguration and dueling.

Slughorn was still talking. "Used to be absurdly competitive, but I hear they're taking in a lot more applicants now, wanting to bolster their ranks rather quickly, what with, well, everything that's, er, going on."

"That's what Moody said," James told him, and noted the look of surprise on Slughorn's face at the name. "Always need more people in a war."

The table fell silent, Slughorn opening and closing his mouth stupidly.

Dolohov spoke first, his voice quiet. "It won't be enough."

James swung his head around sharply. Dolohov's eyes glittered darkly as we went on, speaking directly to James. "Moody's band of rag-tag soldiers is falling apart by the day. I'd think someone as competitive as you wouldn't want to join the side that's losing."

James glared at him. "Feeling cocky after your test, eh? Going after people who can't defend themselves make you feel better about yourself?"

That's when James felt it; Lily's hand on his leg, just above his knee, firm enough to impart a warning.

Dolohov's eyes narrowed. "Protecting the magical race makes me feel better about myself."

James saw Dolohov's gaze flicker down, follow the path of where Lily's arm disappeared under the table, toward James' leg, over to the slit up Lily's own leg, milky pale against the rich green fabric of her dress, and a strange look passed over Dolohov's face just then. After what Lily had told him last night, James thought he knew why, and a twisted satisfaction purred in his chest.

James looked up at Lily, saw her face set as she glared at Dolohov, but then she suddenly withdrew her hand and was reaching for her wine, saying to Slughorn, "You can count on me to skip politics and stick to banking, Professor."

Slughorn laughed, accepting the change in topic eagerly. "Right you are, m'dear, right you are. And perhaps keep tinkering with Potioneering on the side? You'd be an invaluable addition to the field. Have I told you I've received a new inquiry from New Potioneering?"

"Not yet, but that's wonderful, sir."

Conversation about Potions then turned to conversations about the N.E.W.T. classes in general, and though James had been hoping they would be done after dessert, he should have known that Slughorn would offer port and coffee once the dessert plates disappeared.

"And Defense, tell me, what do you all think of Dearborn this year? I hear he is having you seventh years do more of a practical course."

Edgar nodded. "Yes sir, there's a duel each class, names get drawn at random. It's certainly an effective way to learn."

"And have you all dueled?"

Aiko looked around. "I think I'm the only one who hasn't gone yet. Eddie, you and Dolohov dueled already. James and Lily have both gone—Lily, you've gone twice, you dueled Gare today."

"Oho!" Slughorn's cheeks were a ruddy pink, his face delighted as he looked between Lily and Garrytt. "Two of the Slug Club, eh? And who won, I wonder?"

Garrytt smiled charmingly. "I'll give you one guess, Professor."

Slughorn raised an eyebrow at Lily. "Miss Evans?"

Lily set her wine down and looked between Garrytt and Slughorn as she said, "Er, yes, I—I won the duel today."

Slughorn turned his gaze on Garrytt. "You didn't let her win, did you?"

Garrytt was looking at Lily, a strangely intense expression on his face, as he answered Slughorn. "No, I didn't let her win. Almost had her, actually."

James got the impression Garrytt was trying to have a subtextual conversation with Lily, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Slughorn was oblivious. "Did you now?"

"Nah, he didn't."

Slughorn turned surprised eyes to James, and he wasn't the only one.

"She let you hit her."

Garrytt's eyebrows went up so high that one got lost in that stupid styled hair of his. Next to him, James sensed Lily go rigid. He chanced a glance at her; she was already glaring at him, her jaw set, her cheeks pink. He was so right. He had known it as soon as he'd seen it, of course; she had dueled Snape far harder and been less tired, and he had seen her get genuinely hit by Snape when she'd let her emotions get in the way—Garrytt's hit had been intentional, a trap for him to lose his focus by hurting her, and it had bloody worked. James had watched her brace for the hit and had admired the hell out of her for it, though it was obviously soured by the knowledge that Garrytt fancied her for it to have worked, and that Lily knew it, even if they were going to Hogsmeade as just friends.

Edgar spoke up by Garrytt. "Why would she do that?"

James looked between Edgar and Garrytt. It wasn't obvious? "To distract him. And it worked."

Garrytt was studying Lily with a furrowed brow. "But you were tired." He looked at James. "We all saw her face. She slowed down."

Lily's hand was back on his leg, gripping so tight by his knee that he didn't doubt her knuckles were white. Her legs were no longer crossed, and James reached his hand down to her knee, squeezing bare skin. Two could play this game.

James swirled his wine in his glass with his other hand as if nothing under the table was amiss.

"Nah, she wasn't tired." He looked over at Lily, found her glaring at him again. "She was just…faking it. Weren't you, Evans?"

The flush that crept up her neck was answer enough. James turned back to look from Garrytt, to Edgar, to Dolohov.

"What, none of you noticed?"

He let that hang there a moment, taking in the mixture of confusion (Edgar) dawning comprehension (Dolohov) and disbelief (Garrytt) on their faces, then looked back at Lily, smirking at her as he squeezed her leg and said, "You're a good actress, Evans, but you can't fake it for me."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead in his seat.

Lily withdrew her hand and found her voice. "The day we have to duel in that bloody class, Potter, whatever pieces of you are left are going to be carried out on a fucking stretcher."

Only Lily could swear in front of a teacher and get away with it; Slughorn bloody laughed, his hand on his belly as he shook and dabbed his eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, m'boy, you better watch out, I don't doubt for a second she means it."

James pulled his own hand away but looked down and winked at her. "Can't wait."

Slughorn wrapped up the dinner soon after that, perhaps noticing that the mood around the table had thickened with a strange tension. James didn't doubt that his classmates all got the subtext of that conversation, and he could tell from Garrytt's stony expression that the implication of his final comment was not well-received. He also guessed from the amused expression on Dolohov's face that there would probably be rumors by the next morning.

And he didn't give a flying fuck.

Slughorn held James and Lily back after saying polite farewells to the others, wanting to gossip with them about younger prefects, students they might think worthy for the Slug Club, as Lily and James were "two of his favorites" (which James found convenient, since he had just started attending these things) and he trusted their judgment as Heads "unquestionably." Lily carried most of that conversation, being more familiar with all of the prefects, but James made sure to throw Emmeline's name in the ring.

"Miss Vance?" Slughorn's eyebrows raised. "She's always been a quiet student…"

"She's sharp," James told him. "Quick on her feet. Worth watching, at least."

Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder, clearly pleased that James was participating in this little game.

Not long after, James and Lily made their way out of Slughorn's quarters and through the maze of the dungeons in silence. They were just turning a corner into a long corridor with a bare stretch of stone wall that James knew contained the entrance to the Slytherin common room when, up ahead of them, the figures of Dolohov and Snape suddenly emerged into the corridor, being so deep in conversation they didn't notice James and Lily.

James instinctively put a hand to Lily's mouth and pulled her with him as he backed right back around the corner, his back flush against the wall, listening hard for any sounds of movement from Dolohov and Snape, not daring to peak around the corner in case they had heard a scuffle and were looking in their direction.

But they didn't seem to have noticed, their voices carrying through the corridor; Dolohov was telling Snape about what James had said at dinner, the reference to his test, and demanding how James could have known that.

"You didn't slip when you talked to Evans? You didn't mention anything that she would have ran off and told him?"

Snape's voice sounded cold. "No, I didn't slip. I don't slip, Dolohov, as you well know. And she wouldn't run off and tell him anything."

"You sure about that, Sev?"

He could hear the sneer in Snape's voice. "Of course I'm sure—"

"Then why was her hand on his leg at dinner?"

James closed his eyes. Shit.

Snape spluttered. "That doesn't—you saw wrong—"

"No," Dolohov said cooly, "I didn't, and Dru thinks they might be shagging."

Shit. He and Lily hadn't moved, frozen where they hid just around the corner; she had ended up with her back to his front, his arm holding her securely around the middle while his other hand still rested across her mouth, and the combination of hearing the word shagging while her bum was nestled into his pelvis (a perfect fit, really) was making him harder by the second. She could feel it; he knew by how her spine went rigid, how she shifted (which only made his discomfort worse) to twist her shoulders and glare at him, but he just lifted his hand from her mouth to raise a finger to his lips, shaking his head. She turned her head back around, still rigid but at least not moving. James loosened his arm around her waist, setting his hand on her hip instead, like a silent stay, and returned to listening.

"—yes, Sev, there's a room on the fifth floor where Potter and Evans both go. Look, I didn't believe Dru either, we all know she's hated him for years, but you didn't see them tonight."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they have this tension, Sev. She was wearing this dress with a slit that went practically all the way up her leg, Potter looked like he was about to jump her at the table. And something Potter said…"

Dolohov trailed off, but James knew exactly the part Dolohov was thinking about.

"What?" Snape demanded. "What did Potter say?"

Dolohov sounded frustrated. "I can't—you had to be there—you wouldn't get it."

So Snape definitely didn't know about Dolohov's history with Lily. Interesting.

Snape was not to be deterred. "Tell me what Potter said."

"It doesn't matter what he said. What's important is he implied they'd shagged."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Because you know her so well?"

Snape didn't say anything, and Dolohov went on, "I thought so. Well, change in plan. I don't think Potter's full of hot air on this, I saw the look on her face. We need Dru."

"Where is Dru?" Snape sounded impatient.

Dolohov sighed. "Who knows, probably getting sidetrack—"

But then Drucilla's voice appeared. "Hope you fellas weren't waiting around too long, got stuck chatting with Parkinson—what'd I miss?"

There was a moment of silence, wherein James guessed Dolohov and Snape were probably sharing a look, and then Dolohov broke it, saying, "I think you're right, Dru. I had Slughorn's dinner tonight, and Potter and Evans were there. They have some weird tension going on. She had her hand on his leg."

Drucilla gasped. "Wait, really?" James thought she almost sounded disappointed.

But James stopped paying attention to their words, focusing instead on the new sound of footsteps—that were getting closer. Shit. Shit shit shit. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand, and silently Disillusioned both of them; the familiar odd trickling feeling, like an egg being cracked over his head, spread through his limbs, and Lily's start told him she was feeling it, too.

He watched them both vanish before his eyes, camouflaged with the stone around them, and then Dolohov, Snape, and Drucilla were right at the corner—he could see the flap of Snape's slimy curtain of hair, Drucilla's pinched face—and James didn't know how they could avoid bumping into three Slytherins in a very narrow dungeon corridor, though they obviously needed to—but then Dolohov's brow furrowed and he threw a hand out, stopping the other two.

"Wait—wrong way. We're meeting in the second-year classroom, remember? Mixing it up each time?"

"Oh yeah," Drucilla said.

Fucking amateurs. But thank Merlin they were. They were turning, they were out of sight, and their footsteps were receding, and Lily slumped back into him in relief, her head resting back on his shoulder, as they both released the breath they had been holding.

The footsteps were growing distant, the Slytherins' voices sounding much farther away.

"Fuck," Lily whispered. He slid his hand from her hip back to around her middle, holding her closer to him, letting his own spine relax, still breathing hard. To his surprise, Lily snaked an arm up to his neck, holding onto him lightly. "That was close."

Close. Fuck. He felt stupidly close; if she stuck her hand down his trousers right then, she'd probably have him in seconds.

"Evans—"

"Having a hard time tonight, Potter?"

If that's how she wanted to play it, fine. He reached down to run his fingers up her thigh through the slit of her dress, then murmured, "Isn't that what you wanted?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but she didn't pull away; she arched. Her back lifted, her bum nestled in deeper, her head pressed more firmly into his shoulder. He was painfully hard now, aching for her, intoxicated by the feel of her curves, her dress slippery under his fingers.

"Evans—"

Lily abruptly turned around, pressing her front against his as she whispered harshly, "I should skin you alive for that fucking show you just put on."

James spun her around, pinning her against the stone wall.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he whispered back. "Tell me you weren't faking it today. Tell me you didn't let him hit you on purpose so you'd get an opening to win."

He could hear her breathe hard through her nose.

"You had no right to tell them—"

"The truth? About the duel today?"

"You know exactly what you implied, you fucking prat—"

"What? I'm serious, I saw right through you."

"Oh, fuck you."

"You did yesterday."

"Is this really how you plan on chasing me, Potter?"

He reached a hand down to her leg through the slit in her dress. "Tell me you don't like that I see right through you. Tell me you don't like that I notice what they don't."

Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, but she didn't say anything, and he knew he had her. He slid his hand up her leg, under her dress, hooking his thumb under the thin line of knickers he found at her hip. Her gasp was hot on his cheek.

"Tell me you don't like how I go after what I want."

"Fucking arrogant—"

He sought her cheek with his nose, then ducked his mouth towards her ear as he squeezed her hip. "Yeah, I fucking am. So are you, wearing this fucking dress when you knew exactly what it would do to me."

She sucked in a breath. "And what does it do to you, Potter?"

He pushed her hips against the wall, feeling her ear under his lips and a soft wisp of hair against his skin as he whispered, "It makes me need to fuck you, Evans."

Her hands pulled tighter at his shirt, tugging it free from his trousers, and her breath seemed shallow. "You know," she breathed, "I hate how much it turns me on when you're like this."

He grinned, pulling up her dress to pool around her waist. "Like what, Evans?"

"Fucking jealous and territorial—"

"Hey, I kept my jinxes to myself."

Lily's hand was suddenly cupping him, squeezing him through his trousers, and he hissed at the contact, feeling her breath on his own ear as she whispered, "Next time, keep your double entendres to yourself, too, or I might be the one jinxing these off."

He smiled against her skin. "Fuck, I love it when you're bossy."

Lily hands went to his belt, her lips seeking his throat. James muffled a groan, following the trail of her knickers, pushing them aside and slipping two fingers into her, finding her already wet for him.

"Damn, Evans," he whispered. "You really do like me being territorial for you."

"Shut up and fuck me, Potter."

He didn't need to be told twice. Reaching under her bum, he lifted her up, feeling her legs wrap around him, and he pressed her against the stone wall, sliding inside her and rocking into her gently, not wanting to make a lot of noise, and also not wanting to hurt her back against the rough stone, and they sank into a rolling rhythm, her hands buried in his hair while she made soft mewling noises in his ear.

"Fuck, Evans." He kept his voice to a whisper. "I'm not gonna last. You feel too good. I've been wanting you ever since I first saw you in that dress."

Her teeth nipped his ear. "Make me come, Potter."

Fuck, he really loved her when she got bossy.

He smiled, searching for any skin where he could place a kiss, finding what he thought was her throat. "I'll always make you come, Evans."

He heard a low noise, something in the back of her throat, and he wished desperately that he could see her face just then. But time was running out, and he needed to focus.

"Tell me what you need. Is this angle gonna get you?"

She shimmied against him, grinding her hips around him in more of a circular motion, using her wrapped legs as leverage. "Like this."

He met her rhythm, only holding in his groan by clenching his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack. "Fuck, Lily."

"James—yes—fuck—faster—I'm close."

Her hands were pulling his hair, her arms cradling around his head, and he lifted his face, seeking her mouth as increased his pace for her. She whimpered as she kissed him, then broke away to whisper, "J, fuck, I'm right there."

James dug his fingers into her arse, moved against her with more intensity than he had before as he whispered savagely into her ear: "Yeah, Lily—you go—on your fucking friend date—with a bloke—who fucking fancies you—and you think—about me—about this—the whole fucking time."

She whimpered against him, clutching him tighter, wriggling to meet him.

"You tell yourself—whatever excuses you want—but we both know—I'm the only one—who makes you come."

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her muscles clenching around him, and her mouth was back over her ear as she hissed back, "I will, James—I will think about you—because you're the only one—who I want to make me come—so if you're done—being a jealous prat—shut up and do it."

James was floored. Sure, she had just admitted her feelings for him the night before, but something about her intensity just then, those words—I will think about you—I want—hit him in a new way, and something like triumph, like happiness, purred in his chest as he moved against her how she'd said she wanted with a new focus, holding her under her legs to help her get the leverage she needed.

She bit into his shoulder, muffling her moan, and James whispered, "That's it, baby, come."

He said it knowingly this time, his old fantasies of her merging with reality in a dizzying deja vu, and felt her clutch at his hair as she contracted around him.

"Yes, Lil. Come on."

She contracted again, and it was a miracle he held on through the sensation of her clenching around him. He was dangerously close, swollen for her.

"C'mere, kiss me when you come."

He could feel her face lift from his shoulder, seek his own, and their lips brushed, finding each other. Lily gasped just then, one last frantic, "James!" and her mouth was crushing against his as she spasmed around him, his chest purring with the hit of pleasure he got from making her come, and he thrust into her with quick, shallow strokes, knowing he was right at his edge, beyond desperate for release, and then his own face was scrunching as he crushed his mouth back against hers, his own pressure breaking, and he thrust into her deeper, holding at the top and pushing her harder against he wall. He rocked into her gently as he came, and he could tell when Lily felt it because she brought her hands to his cheeks and cradled his face and squeezed her legs tighter around him, like she was pulling him in deeper.

At some point, as they clutched each other through the aftershocks, the crush of their mouths turned into a real kiss, lingering and heady, tongues dancing with each other in slow exploration. They kept snogging, even as James slowly set Lily on the ground and pulled out of her, making her gasp against his mouth, and they might have still kept snogging, if not for the distant sound of a door.

James pulled back, senses suddenly hyper-alert, but no other noise followed, and he suddenly felt staggeringly disoriented, remembering, after having spent so many minutes with his eyes closed, that he couldn't see her.

Lily didn't say anything, but he could hear her breathing, could picture her standing there in as much shock as he was. He silently started tucking himself back in and doing up his trousers, heard the rustle of her shaking out her dress, and then he found her hand.

"Come on," he whispered. "We should head back upstairs."

He pulled her along quietly behind him, through winding dungeon corridors, up onto the main level, and then to one of the elf passages that would lead them up to the seventh floor. Once inside the elf passage, he lifted their Disillusionment Charms.

His throat immediately closed at the sight of her. She was still stunning—and she looked like she had just been thoroughly ravished. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, and now that he was looking at that dress, seeing the curve of how it fit around her waist and then over her bum, he could hardly believe that that was the body he had been shagging against the dungeon wall while invisible, and he vaguely thought that had he been able to see, he definitely wouldn't have lasted as long as he had managed.

She was staring at him, shock written across her face. "James—"

James realized he was still holding her hand, and he gave it a squeeze. "Later. Let's get upstairs, yeah?"

She nodded, and, to his surprise, let him pull her along by the hand up the long, winding staircase of the passage. It took several minutes to climb the elf passage staircase straight through to the seventh floor landing; they were both moving slowly by the end, trudging with weary legs, and when they got to the top, James immediately dropped her hand and sat heavily on the top stair. Lily followed him, threading hands into her hair as she dropped her head between her knees, breathing hard.

Eventually she looked up at him, her eyes wide as she asked, "Did we just—"

James grinned and chuckled softly. "Shag while invisible? Yeah."

Lily laughed breathlessly, her head tipping back as she brought her hands to her face. James laughed with her, putting an arm around her and bending to kiss her head.

She cast a look up at him through her lashes, her eyes flashing mischievously. "Feeling better, Potter?"

He smirked, biting his lip as he said, "Yeah, Evans. Back to normal."

She rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Boys," as if she knew full well he'd just needed to work out his jealousy all over the dungeon corridor, and he realized with a jolt that she might see through him as well as he saw through her.