Chapter 2
Rooftop
James was deceased. Cause of death: Lily Evans. Specifically, Lily Evans calling him out for having a raging hard-on. Assuming that's what she meant when she said that thing she'd said about taking care of that. He had mumbled something about taking care of the bike…but that look on her face as she'd winked at him and said those words that had sealed his coffin—don't take too long—pointed entirely towards innuendo.
Fuck.
He sucked in a deep breath as he wheeled the bike into the shed out back, trying to steady his racing heart, but it was no use. Lily Evans had just ridden behind him with her chest pressed into his back and her arms wrapped around his waist. Lily Evans was in his house, wearing shorts. And Lily Evans had seen him. Hard. For her.
There was really no helping it. He did a quick scan of the lawn, then shut the door to the shed, cast a silencing charm, shelved his wand on a nearby workbench, and fumbled at his fly.
He'd always fancied her, really. Sure, he'd snogged other girls, in kissing games and just for fun, and he'd even fooled around with a couple of them, gone on some dates on Hogsmeade Saturdays—but no matter how cute, or nice, or funny those other girls were, he always found his thoughts drifting back to Lily.
There was just something about her, something he'd never been able to explain to his friends but had always felt. He couldn't think around her, could barely remember to breathe, and it was honestly a miracle he managed to string together coherent sentences in her presence. Though he was no stranger to smooth-talking his way through trouble, class, or an encounter with literally any other girl, Lily left him feeling tongue-tied and slightly high.
Which probably explained why Sirius always griped about him losing his head when she was around, but come on. When she wore shorts like those, hugging an arse like that? When her hair swished around her shoulders and she turned those eyes on him and fucking smiled? It couldn't be helped; he was powerless against the allure of Lily Evans, always had been, always would be, and the fact that they'd formed the semblance of a tentative friendship over the past year only made it worse instead of better, because now he had confirmation that he didn't just fancy her; he was bloody in love with her.
Because she was perfect. Sure, she was nice and kind and loyal and all those necessary things that being in Gryffindor already told him anyway. And she was wicked smart. But even more than all of that, she was just so fucking alive. She gave cheeky answers in class and hexed Slytherins trying to bully first-years when she thought no one saw her. She laughed like she meant it, head tossed back, mouth open, eyes crinkling. She gave them pointers when she caught them planning pranks, winking at him with a mischievous look in her eye that James craved above all other looks.
Well, until today. When he'd seen another look. A new look. One that had appeared when he'd first seen her and she'd given him a blatant up-down that made his stomach do back-flips. And then it appeared again, when he'd been stuck on the bike with a boner right before she'd murdered him with that teasing stare and a smile that was downright wicked.
Lily Evans was a fucking predator.
He braced himself against the back of the door, forehead buried in the crook of his elbow as he pumped himself hard with his other hand. He got off to Lily more often than he would ever admit, but this was about to be a record. Because now he had the visceral memories of touching her leg, of those breasts he'd wondered about squished against his back, of her hands pressing on his stomach, almost like she was trying to feel his abs through his shirt—
Fuck, he wanted her. And he'd never had an inkling until that afternoon that she just might want him back.
Unless she was just winding him up for fun, in which case he was already deceased, so really, what the hell?
But he remembered that soft fuck she'd whispered, would have bet anything that was the moment she'd noticed, and something told him that wasn't the sound of her just having a game.
Merlin, what he wouldn't give to hear that fuck for an entirely different reason.
His eyes screwed shut, and he muffled his groan in his elbow as he came, sweet release flooding him as he felt his pulse thundering simultaneously in his ears and in his hand.
As he came down from his climax, a new thought struck him: not only did he now have to face Lily Evans again after she'd called him out for that boner he'd had, but he also had to face her in the knowledge that he'd just wanked to her in approximately three minutes.
That settled it: he was deceased.
Cleaned up, zipper zipped, and sweat wiped from his face, James made his way back up to the house, crafting his epitaph the whole way. Here lies James Potter, who suffered death by dream girl. Eh, not specific enough. Here lies James Potter, killed by the look on Lily Evans' face when she teased him about being hard for her. Better, but not as zingy. Here lies James Po—
"Prongs."
Sirius had swung open the door moments before his fingertips had reached the handle, and now Sirius shut it behind him, his eyes going wide as his mouth spread in a surprised smile.
"What, Pads?"
Sirius looked furtively around before grasping James at the neck. "Are you forgetting that you have a fucking tell?"
James felt the heat rise in his face. He had totally forgot. Another nail in the coffin for Lily Evans.
Sirius whispered through laughs, "Are you fucking kidding me? You just had a wank in the shed?" His face suddenly turned serious. "Tell me it wasn't on the bike."
"No, it wasn't anywhere near the bike," James snapped.
Relief sagged Sirius's shoulders and he jostled James. "Damn, Prongs. I mean, I know she's fit and all—"
James pinched the bridge of his nose between his glasses. "She saw me."
Sirius frowned. "When you say saw…"
James swallowed hard. He figured it was a mark of how close he and Sirius were that he could even tell him this had happened, though he wasn't sure that was the wisest decision, as Sirius was also quite the schemer when it came to James and girls. "I mean, she saw. We got back, she got off the bike, I wasn't even thinking, didn't even try to hide it, and she saw."
Sirius pulled his lips under and pressed his mouth into a line.
"And then she"—James waved his hand aimlessly—"said some stuff."
His friend arched a brow. "Stuff?"
James rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Something about take care of that and don't take too long."
Sirius burst into wheezing laughter, James smacked his shoulder, and Sirius promptly muffled himself with a fist in his mouth.
"A little help here, Pads? How am I supposed to bloody talk to her? Fuck, even look at her?"
Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again. James put his hands on his hips, shrugging helplessly.
"Well," Sirius started, "to look at someone, you point your eyeballs—"
James shoved him aside, muttering, "Fuck off," as he pulled open the door.
His stomach dropped through the floor. There, standing across the room with Mary and holding a bottle of Butterbeer, was Lily. She smirked behind the neck of the bottle, and her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.
"That didn't take long," she said coyly.
She knew.
Sirius choked on air behind him. James couldn't even choke; he was already dead.
Mary frowned between them. "What didn't take long?"
Lily smiled sweetly at her friend. "Taking care of the bike."
Sirius lurched out of the room, Mary's eyes narrowed after him, and Lily turned her gaze back on James. Predator's eyes, those were. She winked at him, and he fleetingly wondered if he was going to throw up, but just then, Sirius returned with two handfuls of Butterbeers, and James yanked one from his grasp eagerly, flicking the top off with his thumb and taking a deep pull.
Lily was still watching him, brow arched in surprise.
Mary chuckled. "Thirsty, James?"
He ruffled his hair. "Yeah, parched."
Lily smirked. "I bet."
She so fucking knew.
Thankfully, seeing as he was currently incoherent and likely still sporting a blotchy red flush around his neck, Sirius took control of the situation and suggested they all go up to the roof, where James found himself lounging on his elbows on one end of their row, Lily to his right.
"Should we play a game?" Mary asked.
Sirius shrugged on her other side, already cracking open his next bottle. "Like what?"
"Never Have I Ever?"
Sirius shook his head. "We just played that after exams."
Mary sighed, looking out over the lawn. "Eh, true."
"I know," chimed Lily, "grade all your snogs, Black. Surely you've got a T in there somewhere."
Sirius's barking laughter rang around the roof. "Fucking hell, Evans."
But to James's surprise, Sirius played, walking through all the girls he could remember snogging, in extremely haphazard order, and leaving Lily and Mary in fits of giggles over his commentary.
When he was finally done, ending with Mary and telling her she was an obvious O before ruffling her hair affectionately, Lily turned her head to James, fixing him with that piercing gaze of hers as she said, "Your turn, Potter."
He chuckled softly. "Who should I start with?"
Mary called, "Lowest to highest!"
Lily arched a brow at him.
"Alright." He sighed, thinking back through the girls he'd kissed. He didn't have as long a list as Sirius, though he knew everyone assumed he did.
"Um, lowest, Olivia Greene. I'll give her a D."
Mary cackled. "She's such a twat, when did you snog her?"
"Fifth year, on a dare."
"Then there's a handful of A's." He listed off a few names, one of whom Sirius had also graded an A, and which sent Lily and Mary into a tizzy over the fact that he and Sirius had snogged the same girl. "And then Greta was an E."
"Wait." Mary sat up, looking over Lily at James. "That's it?"
James felt the beginning of another flush creeping around his neck as Lily frowned at him. "But last year—Bertha Jorkins put out that—what did she call it? Kiss List?"
He rolled his eyes. "She made shit up. Come on, did you guys really think that Peter has made out with Dorcas?"
"Well, no," Mary admitted. "But that's because we're friends with Dorcas, and she told us it was a lie."
James waved his hand airily. "I rest my case."
Lily asked softly, "No O's, hmm?"
He looked over at her, his eyes traveling up her legs spread long in front of her, past the dip in her waist, over the swell of her breasts, the fabric of her t-shirt taut from how she sat braced on her elbows, before holding her gaze. "Not yet."
She looked away first, a pink flush blooming around her jaw, and his stomach did a little swoop. Their friends fell quiet, and after a few minutes, James heard Sirius's soft snores and looked over to see his friend laying with his arm draped over his eyes, his other hand on Mary's leg where she lay next to him, her eyes closed and her head drooping to the side.
Lily picked up her wand and waved it wordlessly over their friends, then over herself, and finally over James. "Sun-blocking charm," she said quietly.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
And she laid fully on her back, her hands folded over her stomach. James mimicked her, feeling especially fluttery at being this close to her after the events of the afternoon. Or maybe that was just all the Butterbeer while being dehydrated.
"Are you two normally high when you do this?"
James chuckled softly. "What gave us away?"
"I imagine it would make the clouds more interesting."
"Right you are, Evans."
He heard the rustle of her head turning toward his. "I had fun today."
He turned to look at her. "I did too."
Her mouth turned up at the corner. "Maybe you should invite me to get high with you guys sometime."
James stared at her dumbly. "I don't think that's a good idea."
She cocked a brow. "Why not?"
"Because I lose my head around you sober—"
He froze, realizing what he'd just said out loud. Fuck. Here lies James Potter, in a pile of his own making. But Lily just gave him a coy smile and said, "So maybe being high would loosen you up."
James gaped at her, but then Lily looked down between them. James followed her gaze and his heart leapt into his throat as he saw her hand, palm up, resting on the roof between them. He swallowed hard, now knowing for certain these flutters were far more than just Butterbeer buzz, and moved his hand from his stomach to cover hers. Her skin was warm and deliciously soft, and he watched as their fingers threaded together, finding their fit.
Feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, he lifted his eyes back to hers. He swore the sun highlighted flecks of gold in her eyes, in her hair. She smiled at him, just a soft upturn of her lips, and turned back to look at the sky. James did the same, and they lay in companionable silence for awhile.
But then, her voice filled with that same signature cheek she wielded at school, Lily asked, "You're right-handed, aren't you?"
He closed his eyes. Here lies James Potter, struck down by embarrassment.
"Er—yeah."
Lily chuckled softly to herself and squeezed his hand. His right hand. And something about that—about her knowing that he knew that she knew—because she knew—and still initiating holding his hand, caused a tsunami of a breakthrough in his mind: Lily Evans was flirting with him. And hell if he wasn't going to flirt his face off right back.
"Been watching me, Evans?"
She scoffed lightly. "I've gone to school with you for six years, Potter."
"What hand does Sirius write with?"
Silence. "R-right."
James smirked. "Lucky guess."
"More like statistically probable."
"Sure."
She knocked her foot against his; he massaged a circle with his thumb. Her sharp inhale of breath gave her away. James smiled and tilted his head to look at her, waiting for her to do the same, and when she did, he whispered, "You know, I can shoot just as well with my left."
Lily smiled coyly. "I do know."
His stomach flipped at that admission, but he had to keep focus. "And so can you, Miss My Hex Sent Rosier To Hospital For A Week."
Lily's eyes bugged. "You saw that?"
James grinned smugly. "Indeed I did. Not very prefect of you, Evans."
She flushed. "He deserved it."
James squeezed her hand. "I know. Just like I also know you could duel me left-handed."
"Is that a challenge, Potter?"
He met her gaze. "Maybe." He almost added, winner takes the other one out, but he hesitated a second too long, and then the moment was gone.
James supposed it was for the best. They were friends now, right? He couldn't just casually ask her at the end of an unrelated sentence. Right?
Lily faced front and closed her eyes. "Let me know whenever you're ready to lose."
"What's my consolation prize?"
Her lips twitched in a smile, her eyes still closed. "I'll think of something."
Promise outweighed the mischief in her voice, and for once, James didn't even care about losing. Hell, he might even lose on purpose.
The next thing he knew, Lily's hand was sliding out of his as she got to her feet, Mary was saying something about dinner, and Sirius was suggesting something about Diagon Alley the next day. He blinked his eyes open, eyelids heavy, and then rubbed them under his glasses as he pulled himself up to a seated position and then, at long last, to his feet.
"Ah, look who's awake," Sirius teased, jostling his neck.
James only grunted in response.
"I'm gonna walk Mare out," Sirius told him, "meet you two out front."
He nodded his understanding, though his head was still fuzzy and that didn't quite help matters. Sirius and Mary's footsteps quickly retreated, and Lily's soft chuckle drew his eyes up.
"I take it that's their code for, we're gonna go snog quick?"
James reached an arm up to rub his neck. "Yeah, pretty much."
A momentary silence fell, and Lily was watching him with an amused expression on her face. Here lies James Potter, incapable of talking to Lily Evans.
She elbowed him lightly. "Think we gave them enough of a head start?"
He cleared his throat. "Probably. C'mon, this way."
And he picked his way over the rooftop, suddenly fully awake and hyper aware of her presence next to him. A chance glance down told him her hand was within reach. Did he take it? Maybe she'd had enough of holding his hand for one day. Did girls grade hand-holds like they graded snogs? Merlin, he was an idiot; they'd just held hands while laying on the roof, there was no reason he shouldn't just take her bloody hand now—
But they'd reached the ladder down into the stairwell, the opportunity passed, so James swung himself over the top rung and lowered himself to the landing. It was the chivalrous thing to do, going down the ladder first. You know, in case the girl fell. And needed catching.
As it turned out, Lily Evans did not need catching, but the sight of her rear coming down the ladder was enough to remind him that he needed to figure out some sort of camouflage charm for the front of his trousers. He turned toward the stairs as she found her footing, needing to keep moving, needing to distract his mind from that sight.
At the bottom, he opened the door for her, spilling them out onto the side of the house. He spotted Sirius and Mary, entwined under one of the trees lining the drive, and gestured in their direction, smirking back at Lily. "Time to interrupt?"
Lily pulled a corner of her lip under. James really wished she wouldn't, because it was unbearably erotic, and it left her lip swollen when she finally released it.
"Today was fun," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm glad you came."
She smiled at him, and he immediately wondered if that was an innuendo smile or if he was just being a dirty idiot. Probably the latter.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
He blinked. "What's tomorrow?"
Lily chuckled and swatted his arm. "Diagon Alley. You didn't hear us making plans earlier?"
He shook his head. "Still waking up, I think."
They had taken a few slow steps toward the drive, and Lily's body knocked into his side as she teased, "Hard work, riding a motorbike."
James grinned, replaying the memory of her holding onto him while she stood behind him with his hand steadying her hip, and without even thinking, he looped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her gently into his side. He'd meant it as a playful side-hug, but she stopped walking and turned into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Her head fit neatly into his chest, and he caught the scent of her shampoo, something flowery and sweet, as he circled his arms around her shoulders, his heart in his throat.
So they were friends who hugged now. He could get used to this.
Mary's voice echoed down the drive: "Lil, you ready?"
Lily turned her head over her shoulder as she called, "Yeah, just a sec."
She turned back to look up at him, her eyes glittering in the start of the golden hour sun. But then that wicked smirk was back and an eyebrow arched. "Feels like you are too?"
Fuck. Why did his body have to betray him like that? It was just a fucking hug, for Merlin's sake. His eyes closed briefly, his mind racing. "Evans—"
But she reached up on her tiptoes, palms pressing into his chest, her lips the faintest brush against his cheek, and when she pulled back he thought she looked frightened for a fleeting second, like she couldn't believe she'd just done that, a flush creeping around her neck.
A soft, "Thanks," tumbled from his mouth, and he internally kicked himself. Thanks? He just got a kiss on the cheek from his dream girl and he bloody thanked her?
Lily tried to bite back a smile. "Who knew you were so well-mannered, Potter."
His mind went blank. "I—"
She laughed. Laughed. And with a smiling, "I'll see you tomorrow," she turned and scampered up to Mary, who threw an arm around Lily's shoulders as they walked to the edge of the drive.
James could still feel where her hand had pressed against his chest, where her lips had brushed his cheek, and an odd pang went through him as he watched Lily and Mary disappear.
Sirius's hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his stare.
"Prongs—"
"I know—"
"—you need to get it the fuck together."
James sighed. "Did that really just happen?"
Sirius snorted. "Which bit?"
James shrugged dumbly. "All of it? Pads, she kissed me—well, my cheek, but—"
"Yeah, I saw."
"You think she might—"
Sirius quirked his brows, waiting.
"—you know. Fancy me?"
Sirius broke into a slow laugh, slinging his arm around James's shoulder and steering him back toward the house. "Remember earlier when we went over how to use eyeballs to do this thing called see?"
"Pads—"
Maybe his friend heard the silent plea in his voice, because Sirius stopped walking and turned sincere eyes on James, his voice quiet when he said, "Yeah, mate. I think Lily"—he ticked his fingers—"teasing you about wanking, holding your hand, giving you a hug, and kissing your cheek, all equals she fancies you."
Something like adrenaline, that feeling he normally got at the start of a Quidditch match, surged through him, roaring in his chest and swooping through his limbs like it could set him airborne on the spot.
"Right. So now I just—"
Sirius inclined his head. "Make a move, Prongs."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Gray eyes bored into him. "Tomorrow."
James swallowed thickly. "Yep."
Sirius shook his head, chuckling to himself as he resumed walking toward the house, his arm still slung around James. "What the fuck does she do to you?"
Just the usual—leave him hard from her presence and make him feel like willing prey. But he wasn't about to say that out loud, and thankfully Sirius seemed to mean it as rhetorical.
Ha.
