She stumbled down the halls, hair flying, robes and skirt a mess, nearly decapitating several unfortunate first years in the process. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't act. She had to get away. Get away.

There, a deserted hallway. Nothing here but a suit of armor, a deserted painting. And quiet, a respite from the mindless chatter of students. A nondescript wood door at the end of the hall—what was behind it? Brooms and dustpans? Spare sheets and pillows?

She nearly collided into the door, and not stopping to catch her breath, grabbed the tarnished bronze handle and wrenched it open.

Silence, save for her own breathing—panting, more like—and the thudding of her heart. And then—

"Lily!?"

---

Author's Note:

If you're here searching for some brain food, turn away. If you're here for something with a plot that's more than the equivalent of three planks of wood nailed together as a boat, look again. If you want something with meaning, with substance, you can stop here.

However, if you don't mind plotless fun wrapped up in a slightly smutty, slightly romance-y shell, then by all means, keep reading. That's pretty much all I have to say today—travesty, I know!

Oh, I do know what I wanted to say: this does contain a tiny (more than tiny?) amount of sexual stuff. I say tiny, but I do have a very dirty mind, so I wouldn't trust my judgment on this. But in my opinion, it isn't much. Then again, it is essentially all this is.

---

Escapade (Almost) in a Broom Closet

TasteofCinnamon

"Severus?"

He had nearly had a heart attack when his blissful peace was disturbed without warning and the door of the small closet he had been taking shelter in was flung open to reveal a distraught, disheveled, and beautiful Lily Evans. Gods, she looked as if she had been out flying, all windswept and flushed. And oh, oh so beautiful. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was—probably as a result of his careful avoidance of her over the past year.

Severus swallowed, waiting for her to explain herself, but she only stood in the door, wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at him.

"What—what are you doing here, Lily?"

She remained stock still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Severus forced himself to look anywhere but there, and suddenly realized how ridiculous he must look, sprawled stupidly upon the floor while she stood above him. He scrambled up with as much dignity as he could muster, brushing his dusty robes down as he did so while she did nothing but follow him with her incredible green eyes.

"Lily?"

And then she crumbled. Hands gesturing vaguely, Lily Evans burst into tears before him, sinking to her knees on the cold floor. Severus blinked, his own heart thudding.

"What…?" he asked. When she didn't reply, he pulled the door closed behind them and kneeled down before her, pulling her hands away from where she held them in front of her face. She was babbling now, sobbing and hiccupping incoherently, and he had to strain to understand her.

"I…he. He didn't….always…he always…I can't…oh God, I…I can't…He…"

"He?" Severus repeated, "what he?"

"I hate him—I hate him!"

Severus fought the urge to run his hands through her hair. "Hate who? Lily, hate who?"

"James," she whispered. "James."

Oh. Oh. Him. How could he have been so stupid not to see it? Who else but Bloody James Potter? It had never been anyone but him. He had won her heart. He had taken her away. And now she was crying because of him. Severus ground his teeth together in anger.

"What did he do, Lily?" he said as soothingly as he could, "He's a prick, he's worthless. Oh Lily, don't—don't cry. Don't cry for him."

But she was shaking her head over and over again, ignoring everything he had said. "No. I don't hate him," she whimpered. "I don't. But he—"

"He what, Lily?"

Abruptly Lily quieted and she finally raised her tearstained face to Severus, making his breath catch in his throat. She seemed to finally realize where she was, what she was doing, and who she was with.

"Severus?" she said so quietly he had to read her lips.

"Yes," he replied, desperately trying to find something to do with his hands which were threatening to take on a life of their own. "Yes it's Severus, Lily."

"Severus," she softly repeated after him, her brilliant eyes staring frighteningly into his black ones.

"Lily, what did James do?"

She shook her head slightly. "Not James," she whispered.

Severus opened his mouth to tell her to calm down, to ask her again what was wrong, but he was forestalled when Lily raised her hand. Surprised, his eyes darted to it, and he jerked when it found its way onto his face. Hardly daring to breathe, he raised his eyes back to Lily's face.

She had taken on a strange, soft expression, one that he had never seen on her. Frightened, confused, Severus tried to pull back, but the closet was too small. He could go nowhere.

"Severus," Lily whispered again, and then her face was drawing closer to his, and her eyes had fluttered to a close.

Oh God. He knew what was coming now. He should pull back. He should stop her. Oh Gods, he knew what she was doing. How long has he waited for this? Pined for this? Dreamed of this? But this—this wasn't right. He shouldn't be doing this. But she had surely cast a spell over him—she was so smart, so wonderful, he hardly doubted she could—and he couldn't move, couldn't do anything but tremble so violently it was a wonder he didn't spontaneously combust right there in front of her. Unwittingly, Severus felt his own eyes close as he felt her sweet breath on his face—he had stopped breathing long ago.

He jerked viciously when he felt her lips brush against hers, the force of his sudden movement almost dislodging them, and then he was…no, he couldn't be…he was! He was kissing Lily Evans. His Lily Evans.

Severus' eyes snapped open.

No. Not his Lily. Potter's Lily. He couldn't do this. Damn James Potter. Severus would have gladly stolen Lily right then and there, would have grabbed her and ran off into the sunset, but somewhere deep inside he knew that she couldn't belong to him. She would leave him, hurt him, and the longer he let himself believe she could be his, the harder he would hit the ground when she finally left him.

And that she would leave him, he had no doubt.

Mustering all of his self control and damning Life, Fate, everything, Severus pushed her away.

She fell back, eyes wide.

"Go back to Potter," he muttered as cruelly as he could, turning away from her.

"Severus."

"Leave me alone," he growled.

But she was on him again in an instant like a wild thing, like a waterfall, a flame. Her hands, her hair, her lips. He couldn't think—she was poison. Sweet, sweet poison. Lily ran her tongue across his closed lips, begging for access, he felt them open of their own accord, and then her tongue was in his mouth, probing for his own tongue, and her taste was washing into him, her smell wafting over him.

He was burning. Burning. She was a siren in disguise, this girl, normally so neat, so perfect. He was powerless, incensed. He needed her. Needed her on him, around him, against him. He could feel nothing but the mad push of her body against his, think about nothing but how much he wanted her.

No. Nonono. NO. Stop her, Severus. Don't let yourself get more hurt than you already are.

"Severus," Lily breathed against him, pulling her mouth away for an instant. Damn it all, would she ever stop whispering his name like that? Did she not know what it did to him?

"No," he panted, unable to do little more than say that word.

"Severus," she said, and suddenly he realized that her hands were no longer running through his hair, caressing his face. Where—oh. Oh man.

He threw his head back, groaning as he felt her delicate fingers against him, against him there, dancing over him and incensing him to madness.

"No," he hissed on a moan.

Her deft fingers moved to fumble at his belt.

"NO." Choking back an animalistic growl, Severus pulled away for the second time, grabbing her hands away from his groin and pushing her away so forcefully that she hit the opposite wall of the small closet. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised it didn't tear straight through his chest, and he felt tight and raw and needing everywhere.

Lily's own breath was ragged and uneven, but now she was staring at him with disbelief and realization on her face.

"Oh God," she breathed.

"Lily—"

"Oh God. Oh my God."

Severus reached out for her, but she was already pulling her robes down around her and scrambling to a stand. He followed likewise and stepped as close as he could—she was now like a frightened doe, one false move and she would bolt.

"Severus, I—I'm—"

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Lily."

"I'm sorry, Severus," she beseeched him pleadingly, "I don't know what I was thinking. I just…I would never have done this if…"

If you had been in your right mind, he thought bitterly, if he hadn't driven you to it.

She would never have kissed him, much less had sex with him, if she hadn't been distraught. Severus fought the physical need to double over with the pain and longing that shot through him at the thought. Instead, he said, "I know. It's okay, Lily. I understand."

Lily nodded, gulping and looking anywhere but at him. "I—I should go," she said meekly after a painful silence.

Back to him. Please Don't go.

"Alright," he said.

"I'm sorry."

I love you, Lily. "Don't be."

"I'll—I'll see you around then, Severus."

No. No. Stay. "Okay."

Lily managed a small smile, and for an instant Severus thought he saw a glint of reluctance and wistfulness in her eyes, but the moment he caught it, she turned away.

"Goodbye, Severus."

"Goodbye, Lily."

And then she was gone.

Severus slumped against the wall, his heart still drumming painfully inside his chest as an overwhelming sense of loss, pain, and loneliness rushed over him. He hated to think what he would feel if he hadn't managed to stop her when he did. It already felt like he had lost the world. Unbelievably hollow. Unbelievably broken. And worse of all, so, so alone.

"I love you Lily," Severus whispered.

And fought back bitter tears as his words were swallowed up by the emptiness before him.

---

See? Plotless can too be fun.

And now that I'm officially out of new oneshot ideas—unsurprising, my mind has been working overtime recently—I'm open to suggestions, requests, and generous donations of plotbunnies.

The review button wants you to click it.