Part Two--Round (Up) Yon Virgin

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: December 4, and I think I heard my mother saying something about James . . . Or perhaps she said we were having chicken for dinner. I wasn't really paying attention.

Author's Note: That's right. Not only have I kept my vow to update daily, not only did I update twice yesterday, but I am also updating twice today. Be amazed. Yup, this is to shut Alana up about the snogging. It's not very important to the plot, but I'm hoping it will keep her happy for a while. Enjoy.

It was cold: The kind of cold that upset even the wind. She blew bitterly through the grounds, stinging the eyes and noses of the students on the grounds. She stole their breath and drove them back indoors. No white puffs rose from the merry mouths of those on leisure. No snow dared to tempt her icy wrath.

It was cold: The only kind of weather that didn't upset the redhead sitting by the lake. The wind didn't sting her cheeks, but rather painted them a lively flush and made her eyes of glass. The frozen surface of the lake sparked brightly, like a thousand likes on Christmas trees, but it could not compare to the sparkle of her copper hair, spilling romantically down her back and pooling around her waist.

A boy with black hair—tall and strong and handsome—moved to her side and she looked up at him as though in a dream. He reached for her hand and, surprisingly, she let him, pulling him down onto the hard, frozen ground beside her. They laughed together, and when they were done, James Potter found himself with his head in the lap of Lily Evans. His only regret was that Sirius was not around to see.

"I'm sorry he hurt you," he breathed hoarsely, reaching up to tenderly caress her cheek. She tilted her head, resting her soft chin in the palm of his callused hand, and let out a purring sigh. He ran his tongue over his wind-chapped lips, eyes fixed on hers.

"I'm not," she said, suddenly, as her fingers traced over his wrist and down his arm, sending shivers through him like electrical current. "I wouldn't be here right now if he hadn't."

James watched as her eyelashes fluttered. She opened her emerald eyes half-way and staring at those half-lidded gems, he had the sudden idea that she wouldn't smack him if he kissed her. It was a shocking and almost radical idea, but he was just that kind of bloke.

James's strong, shaking hand reached around behind her head. Her hair was wonderfully soft, he decided as he combed his fingers through it. Her lips parted in a noise he didn't quite recognize. His heart leapt into his throat and began to pound in his ears as something else ate away at the lining of his stomach.

Love, as it turned out, was terrible for the health.

He pressed lightly on the back of her head. She didn't object. Slowly, her head inched closer to his. Before she had made much progress, he was sitting up, pressing his lips roughly against hers. There was an oddly choked gasp from deep in Lily's throat. Her eyes opened wide.

In addition, love was not nearly as easy as it looked in his mother's novels.

It was strange, then, that he felt her leaning back just as his tongue met with hers. Strange, too, that he found so comfortable a position with one arm on one side of her and his body on the other. They curled together like Yin and Yang, joined at the mouth for all eternity.

Or, at least until she came up for air.

Her cheeks were flushed two shades darker than her hair and somehow he didn't think it was because of an increase in the wind. She no longer felt the ice of the grass prodding into her back. She couldn't even feel her own fingertips. For James's part, he felt only the broad grin on his face.

"Can I . . . ?"

She nodded, shyly returning his smile. "Go ahead."

Their lips collided in a flash of color. He saw stars on the insides of his eyelids every time he closed them, but that was rarely for long. He had read everything on this moment, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed anyway. He was kissing Lily Evans. That was the problem, he was sure of it. Sure, you close your eyes when you kiss those ordinary girls, but only so that you can pretend they're Lily.

When you actually happen to be snogging the Lily Evans, there was no need for pretending.

Lily was a goddess, which, by default, made him a God.

"Oh, James," she moaned softly. "James . . . James . . . James . . . JAMES . . . JAMES!"

James Potter jolted away in his bed. "My lady love?"

"Ah ha!" Sirius Black threw himself across the bed of his best mate. "I knew it! I told you, Moony! 'Oh, come off it, Sirius,'" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "'He's just having a good dream.' Nope! Nope! I knew it! Prongs doesn't have good dreams. How was it, mate?"

"Brilliant," James was nearly breathless.

"So you've got a plan on how to win her over, then?"

"Yeah, no. Not a clue."