Day Three

Lily twisted her hands on her lap, too nervous to eat the plateful of food in front of her.

"You gonna eat that?" said Sirius thickly, pointing to the mound of food in front of her.

Lily pushed the plate of food toward him, Sirius showing his gratitude by shoving one of her crumpets down his throat whole.

Lily was expecting a letter from Stag this morning and she was extremely nervous, though why was unbeknownst to her. He was just a strangely stalker-ish person, right? But Lily couldn't help but feel anxious that his identity might soon to known to her, something she had been longing to know since his first mysterious letter.

"Hey Lily," said a voice behind her breathlessly.

She turned around and smiled, saying, "Hey Egan. How're you this morning?"

The boy sat down, brushing a lock of his mahogany hair from his eyes.

"Excellent, thank you," he said in his breathless voice, his cheeks flushed. Egan pulled the spoon from a bowl of thick porridge with a squelching noise, ladling some of it into a bowl.

Lily scrunched her nose. "Egan, you have a bit of ink on your nose, right there," she said, poking the tip of his button nose.

"I do?" he said, his cheeks blushing as he rubbed fruitlessly at the tip of his nose.

Lily laughed as he tried to see the ink on his nose, his eyes crossing as he bit his tongue. He made a rather exasperated noise in the back of his throat and took shelter to the main corridor off the Great Hall, where the toilets were located.

Sirius swallowed thickly. "It was just a bit of ink," he said, his eyes following Egan's retreating form.

Lily shrugged, still giggling.

"I wonder what he wanted," voiced James, his head tilted to the side as he observed the doors through which Egan had just passed.

"To eat breakfast, of course," said Lily, rolling her eyes and turning to her plate, which was no longer there. She gave a disappointed grunt as she watched Sirius swallow the last of her food.

"No," pressed James, "he came here for a specific reason."

He squinted his eyes at the door, obviously thinking hard about something.

"And how would you know?" asked Lily sharply, eyeing James incredulously.

James straightened up, blushing, and merely said, "He had a look in his eye."

"A look?" repeated Lily, eyebrow raised.

"Yes," he said, with a tip of his head, "a look."

"Well, what kind of look?" she interrogated.

James blushed a bit more and said softly, "A determined kind of look."

This answer seemed to suffice, for Lily turned to the bowl of porridge in front of her and pulled the spoon out with a loud squelch to serve herself.

Just above them the daily mail arrived, hundreds of birds swooping above them, searching for the recipients of their packages and letters they bore. The Great Hall was quickly showered in early morning mist from the birds' wings after a long night's travels.

Lily's eyes scanned the peck hopefully for Strix and Mr. Stag's reply to her last (and rather desperate) letter. Letters were delivered and gifts received, but no Strix. Lily felt the knot in her chest residing as the Great Hall was emptied of the winged creatures.

Lily stood up abruptly, and without another word, exited the Great Hall. Dashing out the doors and into the main hall, nearly plowing over Egan as she went, she made her way up to the safety of her dormitory, where she could vent out her frustration without much attention.

Barking the password at the Fat Lady (who swung open reproachfully), she stomped up the stairs to her own seventh year girls' dormitory. Slamming the door open, she prepared to throw herself onto her bed, but halted suddenly.

Lying neatly on top of her bed, in all its glory, was a sky blue envelope.

Lily gave a whoop of joy, ripping the purple seal off in her hurry to see the letter. All of her questions were finally about to be answered; she would finally know who her hiding lover was!

She pulled out the letter with an extra burst of gusto than was normally used for opening a letter. She recognized that untidy scrawl, with a head of hair to match….

Dear Lily,

Lily, don't ball this up, there's something I need to explain to you. It is, if truth be told, highly important to me, and I need you to listen… or rather, read.

Do you remember the last time I asked you out? Because I do. I know it may sound funny coming from me, but Lily, I truly, really, undeniably, inevitably, indescribably fancy you. There, I said it. Happy now?

You don't believe me, do you? Merlin, I saw this one coming. For the love of Sirius and the rest of the Marauders, you have to believe me, Lily! You're just so — for lack of better word — perfect.

You're like… playing Quidditch in the rain. Like getting sick off Cockroach Clusters, or… or — I don't know, hoping you can accomplish something in your life when in the bottom of your heart you know you'll never really add up to anything. Thinking about you is like not being able to breathe. It's like the tight feeling you get in your chest right before a Quidditch game, when at the same time you know you're going to do all right.

You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Let me try a different… you know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach before an exam, the feeling that tells you you're going to bomb it for sure? But at the same time your brain is telling you you'll do fine, that you know everything? Like someone's squeezing your lungs so you can't get enough air in?

That's how I feel around you, like I never want to leave, but at the same time, it hurts more every time I breathe. I don't want to stay around you and… hurt myself more, but at the same time I'd rather be with you than anywhere else in the world.

Could we just, you know, meet sometime and talk? Just the two of us? I swear I won't try to kiss you or anything, I just need to talk to you, just you, before I quit cold turkey. I know you don't like me at all, but I just need to tell you some stuff before I leave you alone forever.

Give it some thought. I'll be in the owlry at eight if you need me.

Yours in mind,

James Potter

P.S. Je vous adore, je fais véritablement.

Lily's fingers balled around the note as she tore off, her pent up emotions getting the better of her. She pelted down corridor after corridor, staircase after staircase, all the while one single thing ricocheting against the inside of her skull: Je vous adore, je fais véritablement.

I love you, I truly do.

.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',.',

Strix swallowed the writhing spider whole. The figure wrinkled his little nose at her.

Brushing aside Strix's homicidal moment away, he held up a neatly typed piece of parchment.

"How does it look?" he asked the bird, waving the green love letter in front of her slowly revolving head.

Her amber eyes grew in size as she observed him, her head twisting to the side.

"As one can only assume, talking to a bird," the figure mumbled, folding the parchment and opening the trunk at the foot of his bed. After searching for a moments, he resurfaced, saying, "Blast it all."

Turning to another bed, he unlatched and opened the trunk at its end. Pulling out a sky blue envelope, he nodded approvingly, tucking his letter in hopefully.

Walking over to his desk, he pulled his ring off of his middle finger. Opening a bottle similar to an ink pot, he dripped a few droplets of navy blue wax on the envelope's seal, pressing the ring in it firmly. He pulled the ring up slowly after a few moments, watching as the ring of wax slowly dried in the crisp spring air blowing in through the open window.

"Here you are," he said, tying the letter to Strix's leg securely. "Just leave it in her room, all right? She's sure to find it there…."

Strix hooted and flew out the open window. Circling the whole of the school once, she flew in through the open window of the Gryffindor seventh year girls' dormitory.

Landing on Lily's bed in a ruffle of feathers, she used her sharp beak to pick the string holding the letter to her leg off. Giving her leg a hearty shake, she managed to dislodge it, watching with her glowing amber eyes as the letter landed dangerously near to the edge of the bed pressed against the wall.

Strix gave an ignorant ruffle of her feathers, and after one more glance at the teetering letter, she took off out the window.

The cool April breeze blew in through the open window, ruffling the drawn curtains on all the four-posters but one.

Lily Evans' curtains, pulled back at the unfortunate moment, were swaying in the flower-scented breeze, brushing up against her trunk and the pile of blankets at the foot of her bed.

The wind gave a strong, whistling gust of air.

The figure's letter slipped in between Lily's bed and the wall soundlessly.

BANG!

At that moment, Lily slammed the door shut with unnecessary force, one of the many posters taped to the back fluttering to the ground behind her.

"Where're all those blasted friends when you need them?" she said, glaring at nothing in particular (which just happened to be one of her roommate's many toads in an aquarium underneath the window).

She gave a weary sigh, dropping to her messy bed. Brushing back a wisp of dark red hair, she unclenched her fist, revealing one simple letter that had managed to complicate her life in less than sixty seconds flat.

The letter that tore her up inside. The letter that could be substantial evidence of the biggest prank of the year. The letter that could open her up to the one and only James Potter. (The letter that smells of his spicy cologne…. she added.)

The one and only James Potter who supposedly loved her, the meager Lily Evans, wild haired, freckly, bookworm Lily Evans.

The pieces didn't fit together. The model didn't fit the mold. The glove didn't fit the hand. No matter how one might choose to say it, James Potter fancying Lily Evans did not make sense in her highly confused mind.

She ran a hand through her tangled hair with difficulty, thoughts such as 'How could he possibly fancy me?' and 'This has to be some elaborate prank he and Black have set up, how could it not be?' running through her mind.

She took a deep breath and laid the facts down before herself. (She often found this was one of the easiest ways of solving a problem or coming up with a solution.)

1) James Potter had been asking her out since fifth year.

2) He abruptly stopped asking her out only last month.

3) Not even three days ago she began receiving mysterious letters from a boy by the nickname of 'Stag', expressing his undying love for her.

4) James Potter sent her a letter asking to meet her tonight in the owlry, of all places, and not too subtlety so.

5) The only people she knew of who made ridiculous nicknames for each other was the Marauders.

6) James Potter's nickname was Prongs, not Stag.

7) Stag had been careful in hiding his identity, writing only by typewriter instead of longhand.

8) Whoever Stag was, he knows her owl.

9) James Potter knows her owl.

10) James Potter said he loves her, his story backed up by Sirius Black.

11) James Potter tended to act like a completely arrogant berk in her presence, showing off at any possible moment.

12) James Potter also tended to act embarrassed and/or nervous in her presence, hence the acting like a completely arrogant berk.

13) James Potter nonetheless took every opportune time to prank anyone and everyone, anywhere and everywhere.

14) James Potter did not go completely berserk and loose his head when a "secret love affair" and corresponding letters were mentioned.

All this vague information led Lily to a few possible explanations, each more seemingly crazy than the last in its own misguided way.

1) James Potter actually fancied her and was secretly Stag.

2) James Potter actually fancied her and had no idea who Stag was.

3) James Potter and Sirius Black decided to drive her to insanity by writing her cock and bull letters.

4) James Potter and Sirius Black decided to torpedo her with Dungbombs when she went to meet with said Potter, or other various forms of torture, having no correlation with Stag's letters whatsoever.

To Lily, the last two seemed the most possible, but then, maybe a miracle wouldn't be too far a shot these days.

Yes, she thought, a miracle would be nice.

Of course, what girl didn't wish the boy she fancied would fancy her back? This was so, even for little Miss Evans. She too wished the self-centered, egotistical twit known as James Potter actually did fancy her, no matter how she may deny it. She, on the other hand, may wish she could stop fancying him, but no such thing will be happening anytime soon, and she knows it all too well.

But what reason would the self-centered, egotistical twit that is James Potter have for fancying the wild haired, freckly, bookworm that is Lily Evans?

Just one more thing to add to my list to find out tonight, she told herself, peeling the crinkly piece of parchment from her palm that was James's letter. Smoothing out the creases, she read it through for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Still, only one thing truly caught her attention.

Je vous adore, je fais véritablement.

Who would be so cruel as to write a prank such as this? Surely James Potter was not this heartless…?

Working with him as Head Girl and Boy had shown Lily just how vulnerable he truly was, no matter how well he disguised it. More than once had she caught him staring at her; she would give him a stern glare and he would turn his head, but be back at it no later than a minute or so after. He would pretend to be so engrossed in a book that he wouldn't dare leave the common room and not finish it, knowing full well that she was in the armchair across from him. He would brush off any girl so he could finish his conversation with her on Heads duties.

Now her first two theories weren't seeming so unlikely.

But did he really love her? Fancying was one thing, but moving straight on to love? This seemed a little rash to Lily.

But then his letter seemed so sincere…. He described a feeling Lily knew all too well, that constriction in her chest eating away at her. It was a dreadful feeling, but at the same time, comforting…. Feeling her airway seemingly tighten when she felt his breath on her neck, forcing her to suck in air as he slipped a single rose in her fingers, it was incredible. He would walk away and she would breathe easier, though her fingers would be cramped tightly around the stem of the flower.

It wasn't like the spine tingling she felt when he called her name, took her hand in his, or asked her for just one chance. When he did such, she would feel that bolt of something traveling down her spine, over and over, goose bumps rising on her skin as it did.

Only when his breath tickled her skin would she gasp for air. Only when he snuck up on her in the library and watched her from behind the Potions section would her lungs tighten; it was as if she could feel his presence, making the air around her thicken.

Lily looked down as the familiar bumps his smell brought rose up on her arms, the tingling in her spine bringing a smile to her face.

Perhaps she was deeper into James Potter than she first assumed.

Lily looked herself up and down in the bathroom mirror. Frizzing hair which she'd tried and failed to straighten (it was now pulled back in a tight braid), school blouse that clung to all the wrong places (she'd been forced to unbutton the top two buttons, revealing more than she approved of), limp skirt that was beginning to fray (a rather destructive friend had borrowed it for a day), and a fresh set of robes that Sirius Black had spilled gravy all over at dinner. In her opinion (sarcastic, of course), she looked simply spiffing.

Dropping back onto her bed, she kicked off the worn shoes she had used the previous two years. Closing her eyes, she pictured how she ought to look for this "engagement," as she had taken to calling it in her mind.

She would wear an emerald green dress, her hair pulled back into an elegant bun at the top of her head, curls cascading down the back of her head. Pulling off her shoulders, the dress would end sharply above the knee. If she had her way, she would go barefoot, but as that was unhygienic (especially in the owlry), she would find a lovely pair of shoes to match. And, of course, she would ditch the robes. They had gravy on them.

But instead of cascading curls and an emerald green dress, she pushed herself off of her bed and reached into one of her roommate's trunks. Pulling out a plain black shirt, collarless and short sleeved, she sighed. It would have to do.

Pulling the shirt over her head, she chose the next trunk to invade. After picking the victim, she tugged and searched and finally managed to unearth a green and gray plaid skirt. Sticking her skinny legs (which she was awfully proud of) through, she smoothed the cotton fabric out, curtsying for her mirror and inspecting her reflection. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all.

Pulling at the ribbon that held her hair in place, she ran her fingers through her thick hair. With a quick flick of her wand, her hair was heavy and wet in her hands, just the way she liked it. Dividing it into three separate sections, she took her time and braided it carefully.

Throwing her hair over her shoulder, she pulled on a pair of her own knee-highs, black to match her shirt. Reaching for her own shoes but deciding against, she dug through several trunks before finding a friend's pair that fit her.

Inspecting herself in her mirror, she found she approved. Spying her gravy-covered robe from the corner of her eye, she decided that wearing a robe was not necessary, and so she'd go without.

Her stomach beginning to squirm, she peered down at her watch, which read 6:57 p.m. What was she to do for a whole hour?

On a spur of the moment, she took off down the dormitory stairs on out the common room. Pelting down the hall at an alarming rate, Lily skidded to a halt outside the owlry. After taking a deep breath, she entered.

Much to her surprise, hundreds of owls were not the only thing awaiting her there.

"Egan?" she said skeptically. (Egan's hair was unnaturally messy, much like James'.)

"Lily," he said, turning from the window. "How nice of you to be here."

She smiled and joined him at the window. "It's nice to be here. It's always nice to be here."

He nodded, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"So we can talk then?"

"Of course we can talk," she said, now stroking a barn owl placidly. "This is the best place to talk."

He smiled and said, voice as breathless as ever, "That's a nice skirt. It brings out your eyes."

Lily looked down at the skirt she was wearing and back to Egan, saying, "Oh, this thing? It's not mine, it's a friends. But… thanks anyway."

Egan grinned and nodded. Suddenly, a tawny bird flew in the window.

"Hibou?" said Lily, the owl landing on her outstretched arm.

"Whose owl is this?" asked Egan, eyeing it carefully. "Surely not yours?"

Lily shook her head, Hibou ruffling his feathers.

"He's James Potter's. Handsome fellow, isn't he?"

Egan looked affronted, and said accusingly, "The bird or the boy?"

Lily made a tiny gasping noise, quickly correcting her error with: "The bird, of course! The bird is handsome."

Hibou hooted approvingly, nipping at Lily's finger.

"He is a pretty one," said Egan, smoothing out one of the bird's feathers. "So is yours."

Strix hooted from high above them.

"Hey baby, what're you doing way up there?" Lily cooed, motioning to Strix. "C'mon down…"

Strix's amber eyes grew as she perched on the window ledge near them, her eyes glowing in the dimming evening light. Lily fussed over her bird for a moment, Hibou joining Strix on the windowsill. Lily suddenly turned to Egan.

"Egan, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can," he said, leaning against the wall near the window and earning himself a nip on the ear from Strix.

Lily took a deep breath and dove in.

"You know that feeling you get when you really fancy someone, like you can't breathe?"

Egan frowned at her for a moment, then said, "Yes, I do recall feeling such once or twice…."

"Can you make that feeling go away?" she asked, voice strained, wringing her hands in front of her.

Egan sighed. "I'm afraid not, Lily. Once it's there, it's there, and it will not go away until it wants to."

Lily blew the air from her lungs through her teeth slowly.

"Is there someone?" he asked quietly.

"Dear Merlin is there someone," she said, pressing her hands against her eyes.

"Do you… want to tell me?" he asked, even more quietly than before.

"Egan, I don't want to fancy him! I'd be a dirty hypocrite if I did!" she cried. "I'm a bigot, Egan, just a dirty bigot with a crush."

"That makes two of us," sighed Egan. "Lily, I promised myself I would never fall for her, but I did. I told people to give up on her, but here I am, a dirty bigot."

Lily sighed. "Two bigots of a kind."

"Two bigots of a kind," he repeated, nodding his head toward her.

"We should start a club," she mumbled, "and be co-presidents."

"You can have co-presidents?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well… king and queen then," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"As long as I get to be king," said Egan, and Lily giggled, making him smile.

Their laughter died, each to his own thoughts.

"You're not planning on telling me who, are you?" he said, pulling an old biscuit from his pocket and breaking it in two.

"Nope," she said blatantly.

"Alright," Egan said, giving half the cookie to both Strix and Hibou. "But I already told you."

Lily frowned.

"No you —"

"Hibou!" cried a voice. "I need you to nip over to the g—"

James Potter stopped straight in his tracks.

"Speak of the devil," Lily whispered, her eyes widening as James entered the owlry slowly, his face inquiring.

Egan's face quickly went from puzzlement to understanding.

"It's him, isn't it? James Potter," he said tartly, pointing an accusing finger at Lily.

"Er… that'd be me, mate," said James confusedly, waving a hand.

Lily flushed and refused to say a word.

Egan went on as if she'd confirmed the fact.

"But I thought you hated —?"

Lily shook her head, a strand of hair dislocating itself from her braid.

"I never did."

"Should I — er — come back later?" asked James, taking a step to-ward the doorway.

"No!"

"Yes."

Lily and Egan glared at each other for a short moment. They broke the eye contact.

"I was just about to leave," said Egan shortly, stomping out of the owlry.

James and Lily stood in silence for a moment, the hooting of the many owls the only noise.

"Well, that was awkward," said James. He looked up at Lily, who was still blushing furiously. He cleared his throat. "And I'm sensing more awkwardness."

Her blush darkened as she bit her lip.

"Yes, well… I'm going to leave," he said, and turned on his heel, his face reddening as well.

"Wait!" Lily said, startling both herself and James. "I — er… don't you have a letter to send?"

They both looked down at the sky blue envelope in his hand. His ears turned a surprising shade of red.

"Nope," he said, his voice cracking. He stuffed the letter into his pants pocket.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence, neither being able to move (nor wanting to, for that matter). James' eyes darted from her glowing face up and down her body, his eyes growing wide. Her short form was displayed nicely in her skirt and dark blouse, her hair looking slightly disheveled.

Before either of them knew what was happening, James had pressed his body up against hers, kissing her fiercely. His arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, her arms pinned to her sides.

And as if he suddenly regained control of his highly rebellious brain, his eyes shot open, his lips still pressed lightly against hers. Her eyes were closed, the little of her face he could see still reading shock, though not displeasure.

James pulled back quickly, his ears satisfactorily red. "I shouldn't have done that," he said quickly, his voice husky.

Lily's eyes were still closed, her face slowly reddening. Her lips tugged down in a slight frown as she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she heard him mutter, and with that he ran away, his red ears and neck shining out at her.

Lily pressed a quivering hand to her lips. Pressing her tongue in between her lips, she could still taste the lingering kiss. She let out a shaky sigh.

"Of course he would run," she mumbled to herself, her eyes looking painfully over to the entrance of the owlry.

She smoothed her skirt over her legs, unsure of what to do with her trembling hands. Strix hooted at her in a comforting way, but the companionship of her owl would not help her now.

She leaned out the wide window, the breeze ruffling her drying hair. She closed her eyes as she savored her kiss with James Potter.

After ten minutes (but what seemed like an eternity to Lily), she heard the faint clicking of shoes against the stone floor. She smiled slightly to herself, the familiar feeling of butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach. The noise ceased.

"Er… Lily?"

"James," she replied, her voice cooler than she ever intended it to be. Her back was to him, her head still extended out the window, but there was no mistaking his voice.

He sighed, and she could see him in the eye of her mind running a hand through his thick head of hair, unsure of how to begin.

"Look, I'm really, really sorry about kiss—"

"It's okay."

"—ing you… what?"

She turned to him, a small smile taunting him. "I said its okay. It's not that big of a deal."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then grinned uncertainly. But his grin was instantly wiped off as she said, "So, there was something you wanted to talk about?"

"Er… yeah. I… erm — you got my letter?" he stuttered, eyeing her tentatively.

"So I did… Stag," she added, grinning brightly in her mind, though shyly on the exterior.

His eyes shot up to her face sharply.

"Who told you about that? It was Sirius, wasn't it? I swear, he can be so —"

She laughed, and he looked up at her quizzically.

"I figured it out on my own," she said. "It wasn't that hard to figure out, really."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "It wasn't? Oh… well… got to tell Moony…" he mumbled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose quickly.

They stood in silence, James fidgeting uncertainly, Lily eyeing him curiously.

He looked up and opened his mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was: "I —"

He stopped instantly and the silence enveloped them once again. Lily rolled her eyes and breathed deeply before taking the plunge.

"You really fancy me, don't you?"

He gave a sharp intake of breath, but nodded slowly, his line of vision seemingly limited to his shoes.

Lily shuffled her feet impatiently.

"Yes… well… that's good," she said, for lack of better words.

He raised his head and locked eyes with her. "It is?"

She blushed and nodded slowly.

"Does that mean you…?"

She nodded again, chewing the inside of her cheek as she did, as if to bite back her increasing blush.

"You… and me?" he questioned, his brows furrowed lightly.

"Yes."

"Oh." He frowned in concentration, the looked at her, grinning lopsidedly. "Cool."

She gave a quivering laugh and shook her head.

"So… I, er —"

"Yes?" she asked, taking a step forward uncertainly.

"Does that mean I could, er" — he ran a hand through his hair — "kind of… you know…." He gestured at her meaninglessly.

"Well… I, er, suppose…" she responded tentatively, wondering what in the name of Merlin "kind of… you know" was supposed to mean.

He took a hasty step forward, his eyes shining out warmly at her. She wrung her hands nervously, watching as his Adam's apple rose and fell as he swallowed. He stuck his hand out tentatively, raising it to her eye level.

What in the name of sweet Merlin is he doing? Lily asked herself feverishly as he took another hesitant step forward.

His hand grazed her cheek, and she felt her knees begging to buckle beneath her, but she stood strong, James taking another cautious step toward her.

He lowered his head to hers hesitantly, sucking in a choked gasp of air before touching his lips to hers.

She melted in his touch, pressing her lips eagerly against his, gently moving her hands up to his shoulders for fear of crumpling to the ground. She felt his hands brush against her waist, recoil, and slowly glide back into place.

He drew back slowly, savoring her sweet taste, his breathing heavier.

"You know," he said slowly, his eyes locking with hers, "this is about the time Sirius jumps on my bed and wakes me up."

She locked her hands behind his head. "You've dreamt about this?" she whispered.

"All the time," he replied bitterly. "This is, after all, just another dream. Sirius will start singing and Remus will start yelling and I'll wake up."

"James, this isn't a dream," she said, and a smile graced her lips. "But if it is, let's hope you never wake up."

"I always do."

She smiled as she rested her head against his chest, sighing contentedly. She could hear his heart beating at an unusually fast pace inside of him. She placed a hand over it and looked up at him.

"You need to relax," she murmured, "or you'll give yourself a heart attack."

He gave her a pained smile.

She drew back slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I — I'm just afraid I'm going to wake up," he admitted, his eyes glistening.

"Trust me," she said softly, "you're awake."

He smiled. "It's a good thing I trust you, isn't it?" he said, and slipped his hand in hers. "You fancy a walk?"

"That would be lovely," she said, grinning brightly.

Hand in hand, they wandered from the owlry, from the castle, and onto the moonlit grounds. A waxing moon shone brightly above them, despite the fact the sun had only begun to disappear beyond the horizon.

"It's almost the full moon," Lily observed, her eyes mesmerized by the glowing orb hanging low over the pink sky.

"Only one day left," muttered James, tightening his grip on her hand. She squeezed his hand in hers, swinging them slowly between them.

"The moon is such an amazing thing," she whispered as they halted in front of the lake, a chilly breeze blowing off of it.

"But it can be such a curse," he replied, frowning up at the monthly plague, the pink slowly being ebbed away with deep blues.

"What d'you mean?" she questioned.

"For werewolves, I mean," he said, lowering his eyes to hers.

"I suppose it is," she said, and sighed. "It must be terribly hard to be one."

"It must be," he answered, "but they manage."

She nodded, and on the topic, began a long-winded speech on her view of today's wizarding society and its pressures and influences, as well as its deadly prejudices. This triggered a lengthy discussion of politics and power, which both seemed to be very knowledgeable about. Before either of them knew it, the sun had set completely and the cool night had set in.

"I suppose we should head in," she muttered, folding her arms tightly across her chest. James draped an arm around her shoulders.

"I suppose," he agreed, and (very reluctantly so) they began their ascent to the castle.

Upon reaching the Fat Lady, they gave her the password after a quick scolding ("Out and about so late, the nerve of you!"), and stumbled into the warm common room. They stood in front of the dying fire, eyeing each other with dreaded apprehension.

"Well, I… I suppose I should go," said Lily, motioning to the girls' dormitory behind James.

"I reckon…"

He leaned down and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. "Le sommeil bien, mon amour," he murmured, and rushed off to the boys' dormitories.

Lily smiled and called after him softly, "Sleep well, my love."