"People may think you can turn creativity on and off but it's not like that. It just kinda comes out, a mash up of all those things going on in your mind. You don't know when it's gonna happen. But when it does, it's like magic. It's just that simple. And it's just that hard." – Gwen Stefani

Using that quote is just a fancy way of saying that every now and then the mood strikes you to go back to something you started writing when you were 13 years old and see if you still feel anything for it. Turns out I do.


Chapter Six: Mister Impulsive and Fierce Disappointments

It wasn't until I noticed that James wasn't at lunch one day that I truly began to think something was wrong. It was more than obvious that James was avoiding me and at first, I understood that. I'd practically mauled his neck in the corridor only a few nights before. Things were bound to be awkward. But if there was one thing I knew about James, it was that he loved his food. Missing lunch just to continue avoiding me (especially since he came to lunch yesterday and the day before that) really didn't make much sense. The problem was that I had no idea where he could be, as his Muggle Studies class had already let out. I had to admit, I was worried.

So it was this worry, and this worry alone, that led me to follow Sirius Black on his way out of the Great Hall. After all, if anyone knew what was going on with James, it would be his best friend.

Lily Evans, you are such a stalker, I thought as I crept down the hallways after him, always making sure there were a few people between us. I could have announced my presence, sure, but there was always someone nearby and this was not a conversation I wanted overheard in any way. After climbing quite a few flights of stairs, he went into the owlery. I thought this would be my chance, but several first years were in there as well. I waited until Sirius attached the letter to his owl and walked off.

And then finally, mercifully, the hall was empty. "Psst! Sirius!" I called from around the corner.

He didn't turn around but stopped walking. "I was wondering when you'd stop following me."

I had to laugh. I must have been crazy to think that I could ever get one over the Marauders. I came out of my corner and found him grinning at me.

"It isn't that I'm not flattered, Lily, but I never pegged you as the stalking type."

"Very funny," I told him. "I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

"Well all you had to do was ask. What about?"

I lowered my voice even though there wasn't anyone in the hallway and leaned in closer. "James."

Sirius instantly straightened up. "Is he okay?"

"Er, well, I don't know." He looked at me blankly, clearly expecting an explanation. "Okay, well, I'm assuming he told you about . . . what happened a few nights ago? In the corridor?"

He seemed to visibly relax. "You shouldn't assume such things."

I blinked in surprise. "He didn't tell you?"

"Are you mad? Of course he told me."

"But you just said that – "

Sirius grinned. "I said that you shouldn't assume he told me."

"But he did tell you."

"So?"

I was becoming very confused and slightly annoyed. "So my assumption was correct."

"So?"

"So . . ." Then I realized what he was doing. "Are you trying to change the subject?"

"Yes, yes, I am."

"Why?"

"Because, no offense or anything, but I don't really feel right discussing that with you."

I knew I was blushing but proceeded with the intent to sound as level headed as possible. "I'm not trying to discuss that. I just know he probably feels weird about what happened, but he hasn't been sleeping in the head room and he wasn't at lunch…and now I'm getting worried about him."

"Aw, are you worried about Jamie boy? Don't be. He's been sleeping in the dormitory with us and he probably just skipped lunch to go send an owl or something."

This should have made me feel better but it only made me feel worse. Even though James was okay it was now painfully obvious that he was going to great lengths to get away from me. Only, something didn't add up. "Sirius, we were just in the owlery. James wasn't in there."

"He's probably just talking to…" his eyes widened the tiniest bit, "to someone. Or maybe he's taking a nap. Now that I think of it, he was a little tired today. But he's fine."

So he wasn't going to tell me. That was fine. I'd find James myself. "Okay, well, if you see James, could you tell him I'm looking for him?"

"Sure thing. And lighten up, hey? He's a big boy."

"Thanks, I'll see you around." I waved a bit and started to walk off.

"Wait, Lily, where are you going?"

I checked my watch. "Well, I still need to talk to Professor McGonagall before tonight's prefect meeting, and I have a free period now, so down to the first floor, I guess..."

Sirius looked alarmed. "But that's where…the busiest hallway is. It's really crowded now that lunch is over, could take forever to walk through."

I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't what he wanted to say. "I've got time."

"Why don't I walk with you?" He took my arm and pulled me to the right.

"In the opposite direction of where I need to go?"

"Maybe I want to spend more time with you." He smiled at me. "You have such pretty eyes, Lily."

I burst out laughing. "Sirius, you do know that flirting as a distraction only works when the girl is attracted to you, don't you?"

"Are you saying you're not attracted to me?"

"Not in the least. Sorry." I began walking to the staircase and was surprised when he followed.

"Right. You're more attracted to messy haired blokes who answer to the name of James."

We were weaving through the staircase now, attempting to avoid the crowd coming back from lunch. "Oh stop it." I called out over the heads of several students as he was shuffled a few paces behind. "People can be friends without being attracted to each other, you know."

"Only in theory."

"So you're saying that you're attracted to all your friends? Remus and Peter as well?"

He caught up me at the bottom of the staircase and grinned. "You evil witch. I'm not saying that all friends are attracted to each other. I'm saying that you and James are."

I blinked and spoke far too quickly for my liking. "Why would you think that? Did he say something?"

His grin widened. "Why does it matter? You're not attracted to him." Blast. Sirius blinked, obviously just noticing his surroundings for the first time. "Lily?"

"Hmm?" I asked as I walked down the hall.

"When did we get to this floor?"

"A minute ago."

"And why are we here?"

"Because there's a reason you don't want me here and I want to know what that reason is."

"Lily, honestly."

Then all of a sudden it came to me and I couldn't believe I didn't realize it sooner. "Muggle Studies! The Muggle Studies room is on the same floor as McGonagall's office. And James…is probably still in there! Sirius, you prat, you knew where he was all along." I eyed him suspiciously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I was beginning to feel that uncomfortable sensation that came from being lied to; the one where you know things are being kept from you but you don't know what or why. I started walking down the hall again, Sirius hot on my heels.

"He's probably just talking to someone-"

"Only Professor Darvick would be there now. Why would you care if I saw that?"

"Because I don't think he's talking to the-"

I stopped dead in my tracks only a few feet away from the door.

"…teacher," Sirius finished meekly.

I felt many different levels of embarrassment. Because Sirius was right on all three counts. James was in the room, he was talking to someone, and the person sitting next to him was clearly not Professor Darvick.

James sat in his seat while the class moved around him, and told his friends that he'd meet them in the Great Hall for lunch in a few minutes. He didn't much feel like moving at the moment. Only when he thought the class room was clear of everyone, including the professor, did he even move to gather his things. He moved slowly towards the door, running a hand over his tired face, and almost dropped his books when a soft hand grabbed at his arm.

He turned around suddenly, his mouth going dry. He wasn't ready to talk to her. Not yet. But, God, those eyes. Those green, green eyes that were looking at him the same way they used to. Her voice was the same, too: a hint of amusement mixed with a dash of concern.

"Were you planning on doing more than stare at me, James?"

He looked at her for a long time before a laugh bubbled to the surface. Merlin, it felt good to laugh. "I don't know. Would you want me to?"

She grinned and jumped onto the nearest table. "Depends on what you'd want to do instead of staring."

James considered joining her on the table, but thought better of it, and settled for standing in front of her instead. "You just never change do you, Miss Bailey?"

"You know you'd hate it if I did," teased Ophelia.

He looked at her, entranced with the few golden strands of hair that fell out of her braid. He lifted his hand and brushed them out of her face, the motion reminding him of many a time last year. "I would," he said quietly.

"It's been a while," she told him. "I miss talking to you."

He brought his arms around her with a sigh. "I know. I miss talking to you, too."

Ophelia returned the hug and looked at him for a long time when she pulled away. "You look like shit, Jamie," she said with a slight frown.

He laughed lightly. "You always had such a way with words."

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." She brushed some of his hair away from his forehead, her fingers lingering there for a moment. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

James smiled, comforted at the thought of Ophelia still being able to read him so well even after months apart. Some things never changed, and he was glad for it. It was one of the traits that attracted him to her in the beginning; how well she could tell what was going on with him, or what was on his mind. It was both a blessing and a curse once they were together.

"No, I haven't. How can you tell?" He wasn't expecting an answer really. One of the best things about her was that she could just tell sometimes, without a reason.

Her smile was a sad one, he noticed. "You look the same way you did last year when things got bad with Evelien."

"Merlin, I'm a right prat, aren't I?"

She looked confused and more than a little worried. "What are you talking about?"

James laughed bitterly, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "My sister is sick and I'm losing sleep over a girl. What a tosser I've become."

Ophelia nodded, falling silent. She stared at a spot just over his head, waiting for James to continue. James grinned inwardly, amazed that after all this time, she still knew when to offer advice, and when to just sit there and wait for him to vent.

"She lets me forget about everything, Lia," he said quietly, after minutes of silence. "I always feel so young and innocent around her."

"You are young and innocent. Well, maybe more young than innocent," she said with a pretty smile.

James paused again, sitting next to her on the table with a groan. "You know what I mean." It was hard to explain the situation, but he knew that if anyone would understand, it was Ophelia.

Ophelia turned to face him and grinned. "I'd probably know you mean a lot more if you told me who it was we're talking about."

James laughed, turning his head to face her as well. "Lily Evans."

She raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Really?"

"Yes. You'd really get along well with her. She's…well, she's pretty incredible, actually."

Her eyebrows had practically disappeared into her hairline by this point. "Well you certainly moved fast, didn't you?"

He looked at her sharply, only just realizing that he was giving off the wrong impression. "No, it's not like that."

She gazed at him, searching his face for something. "Yes it is."

James was about to tell her that she was wrong, but settled down closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, and spoke before he had the chance. "Jamie, just…don't let it cloud your judgment. Don't take it for more than what it is." Ophelia sighed, wondering how to phrase her next sentence. She distracted herself by tracing light patterns on his shoulder, oddly fascinated by the way the sleeves of his white shirt bunched under her wandering fingers. "People get hurt that way."

James circled his arm around her, bringing her closer to him. It was amazing how her touch still calmed him, even after all this time. "I hate that."

"Hate what?" she whispered, her fingers moving of their own accord.

He brought her fingers up to his lips, the gesture reminiscent of earlier times. It was an incredible thing; how the same movement could be so drastically different during two points in time. "I hate that people get hurt."

He hated that he was usually the reason for it.

"Lily," Sirius said awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable, as if he would have rather been standing anywhere else. I couldn't say I blamed him. I didn't very much want to be there either. "It's not what-"

"So I was right," I interrupted, staring at the view before me. I could not think of a single subject matter so engrossing that two people wouldn't even realize they were being watched. "James has a girlfriend. That's why he's avoiding me."

"What? No, Ophelia's not his girlfriend."

"Wait. Ophelia? Ophelia Bailey?" I looked at the girl closely, wondering why I didn't recognize her right away. "Didn't James date her last year?"

"Yeah, he did. They're still really good friends but that's it." It sounded an awful lot like what I had been telling Sophie for weeks.

"Well they certainly look…cozy," I said lamely, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I didn't want James to look cozy with anyone. I wanted him to look stiff and uncomfortable and like he couldn't wait to leave. It stupid and unreasonable, but I didn't care.

"Honest, Lily. They're just friends."

If a completely unbiased and rational person was judging they could say that there was absolutely nothing about the situation that made it seem as if Ophelia and James were anything more. Unfortunately, at the moment, I was neither unbiased nor rational. Even though their current gestures and postures were completely platonic there was still a problem.

And the problem was simply this: even upon seeing this entirely friendly scene, I was having completely unfriendly thoughts. Thoughts of strangling Ophelia with her stupid shiny hair while screaming, "Don't you dare touch him you evil cow!" It was mad and I knew it but I couldn't help to feel almost betrayed. Apparently James thought it was okay to sit with an absurdly pretty girl he had broken up with months ago, while he ignoring and avoiding a girl he actually lives with – a girl who was stupid enough to be worried about him even though he was clearly more than fine.

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter either way." I only hoped that Sirius didn't know me well enough to know I was lying.

"Bollocks."

"Sirius, it doesn't matter. I mean it."

"Yeah? So you don't want to know what he's doing in there with her?"

"No." I looked inside the room again. She was touching his shoulder now. "Maybe. How do you know what he's doing in there?"

"You underestimate me, Evans. I know everything there is to know about James. And if you promise to hear me out completely, then I'll share some of my wisdom with you."

I looked at him. I looked back into the room. James was playing with her fingers. So he had time to touch her hands but not sleep in his own room or even talk to me? I resisted the urge to run in there and throttle them both and turned back to Sirius once more.

"You have ten minutes."

Neither of them said anything for a few long moments as they sat on the desk in silence, both half way content with just being there, each lost in their own thoughts: James trying to find a way to make things right with Lily, to be able to look at her without feeling so damn affected, while Ophelia thought about him. James was so…flawed, so damaged, so rough around the edges. Most people didn't know; they didn't see it. They couldn't. He liked it better that way, she knew. But it was clearer than anything to her, for she could see it. She always could.

From the very beginning, Ophelia knew there was more to James Potter than met the eye. There was just something in his eyes, something profound, more intense, more wrenching, that was immersed just beneath his surface. It pressed at the very depths of his existence, begging to be hidden below. But it couldn't hide, he couldn't hide. Not from her. Ophelia was too drawn to it, distressed with the need to seek out whatever it was, and make it better. It was what brought them together. It was also what brought them apart.

They were much too alike in that sense. They were both acutely aware of each other's pain, and both felt the insatiable need to make things better, to get rid of the hurt. They didn't realize how much more it could hurt them in the end.

They easily mistook the comfort and attraction the other offered for something more, something deeper. They held on to that, clinging, desperate to ease each other's anguish, and their own. They took it too far, ignoring the pangs of guilt and denial they felt when they were together. There were so many sensations, so many feelings, and usually so much passion – sodding hormones. It was only too simple to ignore petty trivialities like reason and sense. Inevitably, the time came when they couldn't ignore them anymore, leaving behind a tangled mess of emotions in their wake.

Ophelia relaxed against him, smiling when his fingers ran up and down her arm, mirroring her earlier actions. "Be careful," she told him. "Don't let it get out of hand. Don't put yourself through that again. And don't do it to Lily either. Neither of you deserve it."

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar waves of guilt wash over him whenever he thought about what had transpired between him and Ophelia. "It kills me that I'm the reason you know all this first hand. I'm so sorry."

She sighed, wondering how many times now he had said those exact words; how many times she had said them back. "Don't be. It was both our faults. I'm just as much to blame as you are."

"Yeah, but I was the one who needed it. Needed the comfort and took it too far. I won't let you blame yourself for it."

"I don't blame myself for it. I don't blame you either. God, James. Stop trying to be everyone's savior. I was there, too. I messed up, too. Everything you did, I did too. We can't go back and stop ourselves, and to be honest I don't think I would even if it was possible. Would you?"

He was surprised that he didn't have to think about it. "No. I wouldn't go back and stop things. I mean…it wasn't all bad, was it?"

"No," she said. "It was great. I really did care about you. I still do."

"Of course you know I care about you, too."

"So there's no sense in feeling guilty and pitiful. It's not your most becoming quality, you know."

James laughed. At least he knew that no matter what, he could count on Ophelia for being brutally honest.

Ten minutes later, I found myself sitting on the floor of the Gryffindor common room with Sirius Black as the oh-so-intriguing relationship of James Potter and Ophelia Bailey began to unfold.

"I really don't think James would appreciate me telling you everything, so I won't, but I do think you should know some things before you rush to the wrong conclusions. James has no feelings for her and she has none for him. Do you understand that?"

I stretched my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankles. "Sure."

"I really hope you mean that, Lily, because there's a lot more to this than you know." He looked at me very seriously. "There's a lot you need to understand."

"Okay. Start talking."

"Patience, Evans, patience. Did James tell you about his…family?" He was speaking very carefully so as not to give anything away.

I tried not to huff in annoyance. "If you mean about Evelien, then yes. He told me."

"Good. How much do you know about wizard cancer?"

"Not much."

He sighed. "Well then a lesson is in order."

"What does this have to do with James and Ophelia?"

"All will be revealed. Now shut up and listen to me. Muggle cancer is always different, right? It can attack your blood, your brain, your liver, whatever, right?"

"Well, yes-"

"What Evey has…it's not like that. It doesn't attack just your body. It attacks you, your magic, everything that's keeping you together. Very few wizards can throw it off for long and even the ones that could were very advanced and had loads of training. Yet even then," he paused for a minute and I realized how hard this must have been for him as well. "Even then, no one's lived through it. Not one single person has managed to live more than a few years after being diagnosed."

"But a cure or a spell…surely there must be something-"

"Lily, there's nothing."

"Well then perhaps something needs to be made!"

He chuckled softly. "I completely agree, sweetheart, but life's taught me that things don't work out that way. Some things can never be cured."

"But this…this isn't fair! Muggle treatments-"

"Muggle treatments?" he laughed almost harshly. "Are you mad? This isn't a Muggle disease. Nothing can help."

"Then how has she made it this far?"

Sirius shrugged. "I won't pretend to be a healer. I don't know. The only thing she can do is fight it off herself, and that…Well, it takes a lot of strength and determination. It leaves her so drained sometimes…" he trailed off for a minute and then continued, leaning back against the couch.

"Last year it got really bad. It was horrible, actually. She was in so much pain and she was always so tired. She just slept for two weeks straight sometimes and we all felt so useless, just standing around not being able to do anything, but James especially. It was a very rough year for him, and I need you to keep that in mind, okay?"

I sensed that this was the part of the story where Ophelia came in.

"Ophelia's family is very good friends with the Potters, and we'd all known each other since training brooms. I don't think any of use really knew her until the Potter's Christmas party last year. She and James really got to know each other. Err, I mean," he coughed, shooting me an apologetic grin. "I mean, they really connected on a deep level."

"Sirius, I'm not that naïve. You don't have to sugarcoat it."

"Oh, no. They didn't shag or anything, not at the party. James can be a prat but he's no fool. Look," he glanced around the common room furtively; making sure it really was as empty as it looked. "What I am going to tell you is said in complete confidence. The only reason I will tell you at all is because otherwise you will jump to all kinds of wild conclusions and will think that James had all these torrid sexual escapades or something, and that couldn't be farther from the truth. But if you breathe a word of it, remember, I am a Marauder and will not hesitate to turn your hair permanently green, or to create a startling wind in the Great Hall –"

"What's so bad about wind?"

Sirius gave me an exasperated look. "Lily, think about it. Do skirts and wind mix?"

"Oh. Oh! You wouldn't!"

He winked. "Better wear your good knickers. I prefer red myself. Or you could not wear knickers at all. That's fine too. Ow! What'd you hit me for? I was only joking."

"Can you just get back to the point?"

"Fine, fine," he mumbled, rubbing his head. "Don't know how James lives with you…Right, so anyway. The thing you need to know about Ophelia is that…" his voice dropped down to an almost comical whisper. "She's an empath."

I gasped. "A true one? But that's so rare."

"I know. That's why she was so drawn to James at that party. Anyone could see that he was miserable, but she could feel it, almost as if his pain was hers. I always felt a bit sorry for her for that. A person could go crazy from feeling so much."

"But can't they block out emotions?"

"If they want to, yes, and she normally does. But I guess what James was feeling was so strong…My personal theory is that she chose not to block him out. But she really helped him…a lot. I don't know what he would have done without her last year."

I shoved down all my bitter thoughts. Or attempted to, at any rate. "If she was so amazing, why did they break up?"

"That…I can't really tell you."

"Oh come on! I've already sworn not to tell."

"No, really, Lily. A lot happened with them. It was messy. There were a million reasons and eventually they both realized it just wasn't right. They broke up over the summer."

I was struggling to retain all this information at once. "Did he…did he love her?"

Sirius looked away. "You're going to have to ask him."

"Is that code for 'yes he was but I don't want to tell you'?"

"No, it's code for 'if you want to know James felt, you should ask him.' But just between you and me…I don't think he did, not really. They truly are much better as friends and that, Lily, is what I want you to remember. Because they will always be friends. They will always have a past. But that's all. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay. Err, Sirius? I know you're going to tell him about this, but can you not tell him I was so…curious?"

He laughed. "I'll take it to the grave, sweetheart."

"They've been there for a while," I said, looking at my watch. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Sirius looked thoughtful for a minute. "If I know my best friend, and I do, then there's only one thing on James' mind right now."

"What's that?"

"You, my dear. You."

"Do me a favor, would you, love?" James asked, wisely changing the subject. "Put your hair down?"

She grinned. "And what makes you think you have that luxury anymore?"

He looked at her and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Just do it, Lia? Please?"

Ophelia began to unbraid her hair, shaking it out when she was finished, and placed her head on his shoulder. "Happy?"

"Mhmm," he murmured, running a hand through the strands, "very."

"So Jamie, I think I should be insulted."

"You probably should. What about?"

"Well we've been here for a while and you haven't asked me yet if I wanted to see your new Head pad. Normally, you'd be dying to show it off. What gives?"

He shrugged. "I've been avoiding it."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"Lily."

"Ah, I should have known. You are going to have to talk to her eventually. You do know that, right?"

"I know."

"Besides, Mr. Head Boy, you are skirting your responsibilities for the uh, school dance." Ophelia was smirking, obviously amused at the idea of James organizing a dance.

James groaned. "Oh, I completely forgot about the stupid thing. Lily is going to kill me."

"Tsk tsk, Jamie. Can't you do anything right?" she said, pouting at him.

"Some things. You would know about most of them," he said with a wink. "So Lia, are you going to come to this blasted dance with me or not?"

"Are you serious? A school function? You must be joking."

"Of course I'm serious. I have to go, don't I? You're the only one I can go with that might make the evening bearable."

She considered it for some time before smiling. "Fine, I'll come with you. But only because it'll give me the opportunity to buy a new dress."

"Now that we're all caught up to date, are there are any questions?" I asked the group of students later that day as the Prefects meeting came to a close. I was met with a set of bored looking faces and more than a few yawns.

"I have a question," a drawling voice called out. I looked over to Beatrice Wilkins, a sixth year Slytherin, with her hand in the air. I groaned to myself. Beatrice rarely had a nice thing to say. She spent most of the Prefect meetings rolling her eyes and making faces at me. Clearly, she was not my biggest fan. "Why is it that this meeting was postponed for three hours? It's nearly eleven o'clock. Some of us had places to be." The snobbery in her tone was obvious and I would have loved to put her in her place had I not been so exhausted.

"Come off it, Wilkins. You can just snog Thompson in the broom cupboard later," a voice interrupted before I had the chance to say anything. I glanced gratefully at Charles Knight, a fellow seventh year from Ravenclaw.

"Thank you, Charles. Now if anyone has a useful question…" I trailed off but no one spoke up. Beatrice glared from her seat but surprisingly said nothing. "Well then, this meeting is officially over. Great job everyone; I'll see you in a few days."

The students shuffled off, eager to leave, but Beatrice made a bee line straight for me, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she went. "So Evans," she sneered. "Why are you covering for Potter?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well he's missed the entire meeting. A meeting that you started three hours late, no doubt hoping he would show."

"Not that it's any of your business," I replied just as snootily, "but James is sick and we both felt it best if he stayed in his room and rested." I was lying through my teeth of course. I still hadn't spoken to James, and Beatrice was absolutely right in assuming I stalled in case he came to the meeting late. But she didn't need to know that.

She cocked her hip, putting her hand on her waist. I resisted rolling my eyes. "Then why didn't you feel the need to share this with us?"

Really, who did this girl think she was? "Because as previously stated: it's none of your business. You seem to be forgetting that I am your Head Girl. In fact, since you apparently need a reminder…ten points from Slytherin."

"What?" she shrieked. "That's completely unfair."

"Keep talking and it will be twenty points."

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, clearly debating whether it was worth it to keep her mouth shut or save face. Apparently, the desire to win the House Cup (and to remain in the good graces of the Slytherins) won out. She sent me a final withering glare and stalked off while muttering obscenities under her breath.

I heard a low chuckle behind me and turned around to see Charles packing up his backpack. "Sorry to eavesdrop," he apologized. "But Wilkinson is an annoying twit."

I gathered whatever papers were in my immediate sight and smiled as he slung his backpack across his shoulders. "Oh, you don't have to apologize. She's vile. And thanks for the save before. It was greatly appreciated."

"Of course. I thought you might need the rescue."

We checked behind us to make sure no one was left in the room and walked out. "So where are you off to now?" he asked me.

"I'm hoping to get to the library before it closes. I still need a book for that Charms paper and I haven't had a chance to go there all day."

He riffled through his bag for a minute and produced the very tome I was looking for. "This one? I'm done with it, if you want."

"That would be so great. Thank you!"

"I must warn you, though," he said with mock seriousness. "It comes at a price."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Come to the dance with me."

Well I certainly didn't see that coming. "...What?"

"The dance. The one you're planning. The one we just spent an entire meeting talking about. Go with me?"

I looked at Charles, took in his bright blue eyes, and couldn't help but think of James, wherever he was, and the plan I had to ask him. "Oh, er, I was sort of planning to -"

He instantly stood back, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his features. "You're already going with someone."

"Well it's not-"

"No, no, you don't have to explain. I should have known. I mean, of course you'd already have a date. I should have asked you right away, not waited till now to work up the courage."

My heart warmed a little. "You were too nervous to ask me before?"

"Not...nervous. Just you know, bidding my time and...Yes, I was nervous." He laughed and stepped back a foot or so. "Now that I have successfully humiliated myself, I should go. So, just give me back the book when you're done with it, and I'll see you at the dance."

"Charles, wait."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going with anyone."

His look of relief did not go unnoticed. "Really? You're not just saying that because I made a fool of myself and you feel bad? Because I'd hate to disappoint the bloke you already promised to go with. Actually, that's a lie, I wouldn't feel that bad."

I laughed with a genuine smile on my face. "No, I didn't promise anyone I'd go with them. I think I'd really like to go to the dance with you."

"Great. Brilliant. Well, I'll let you get to your work then; it's already pretty late. And I'll come pick you up for the dance? Around 7:30, so we can stop by to check out the Hall in case there are any last minute problems?"

Looking up at him, I was surprised at how lovely that sounded. "Perfect. That's...absolutely perfect."

"You did what?" James exploded. "Padfoot, you giant tosser! Why the hell would you tell Lily about me and Ophelia?"

Sirius had the good grace to look embarrassed but his voice held no hint of remorse. "Because you're acting like an idiot by ignoring her. She just wanted to know if you were okay because you couldn't be arsed to actually talk to her. So when she saw you and Lia her mind must have been going crazy. Plus, she looked ready to murder you, once she stopped crying, of course."

"She was…crying?"

Sirius nodded fervently. "Oh yeah. Great big bucket loads. Wailing and hysterical – the whole bit." He looked at his friend in disbelief. "No, you moron, she wasn't crying. She was clearly upset though, and it wasn't like you were in a great rush to speak to her."

James hurled a book at his head with all the force he could muster. "And you didn't think that it might be something I wanted to tell her myself? If I wanted to tell her at all?"

"Relax, would you? I only told her the very basics." He rubbed the spot on his head where the book hit him. "Jesus Christ, that hurts. I'll kill you if it bruises."

"It would serve you right." James couldn't believe Sirius had been so stupid. "Who goes and tells his best mate's girl about his previous experiences with another girl? Who besides you, apparently?"

Padfoot grinned in a way that worried him. "Oh, she's your girl now, is she?"

Shit. "You know what I mean. It's none of her business what I got up to before we became friends."

"It's her business when it affects the type of person you are and the way you treat her. And when she has to come find me to talk about it."

"Oh, now we're really getting to it. You were annoyed she bothered you!"

"What? No. Jesus, James, you don't get it. I was trying to help you."

He scoffed. "By showing Lily that in addition to being a complete prat about our situation, I also spectacularly fucked up another good friendship while destroying a perfectly lovely girl? Do you want her to never speak to me again?"

With that, he lunged toward Sirius, knocking him toward the ground. Though the two physically fought regularly (as boys were want to do), it wasn't often that he wanted to hurt his best friend, his brother. But sometimes Sirius went too far.

"Prongs," he said, attempting to shake him off, "think for a second. Telling Lily made sense at the time, okay? Instead of believing you're avoiding her to snog some girl in an abandoned classroom – OW! Would you stop bloody hitting me! – instead of that, she knows the truth!"

James nearly growled as Sirius delivered a swift shot to his gut. "I didn't want her to know."

"And why the bloody hell not?"

"Because she thinks I'm a good person and now that she knows she's going to hate me-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Sirius managed to shake him off and pinned him to the floor. "Not this rubbish again. You're downright irritating when you whine, you know that? Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

James shoved him off, winded. He dragged his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees. It was a struggle to regain his breath so he used that as an excuse to wait before answering his friend with words he hated to say. "You're right; I'm being absolutely pathetic."

"Too right you are," Sirius wheezed. "Couldn't you have realized this before the ass kicking?"

"Sorry, mate. You know nothing clears my head like trouncing your sorry ass. You're going soft, Padfoot. It used to take me much longer to beat you."

"Beat me? I kicked your sorry ass!"

"You're kidding, right? You know I –"

"Did you girls kiss and make up yet?" Remus, said, slamming open the door to the Gryffindor boy's dorm, Peter towing in after him. "It's getting tiring listening to your fights."

Sirius laughed and moved out of his way as the sandy haired boy flopped onto his bed, hurling in his school bags after him. "Someone's testy. Is it that time of the month again?"

"Fuck off."

There was a stunned silence that followed his words as the two other boys looked to Peter.

He sighed with a shrug. "We ran into Snape."

Sirius was on his feet immediately. "What'd Snivellus say?"

"Oh you know," came the grumbled response, "just the usual. Romantic murmurs, whispers of sweet nothings. Blimey, Padfoot, what do you think? The slimy old bastard!"

Silence greeted his words again. It was very rare for Remus to fly off the handle. Sirius, always. James, often. Even Peter had his moments. But Remus almost always made sure to be calm, to keep his cool, to fight against the very nature he thought defined him. Even though the moment was serious, all three boys couldn't help but grin. Remus was fantastic when angry.

"You know, Prongs," he mumbled, "sometimes I wish you let him die."

This time, the quietness left in the wake of his sentence was uncomfortable and much more static. The near death experience of fifth year was one they rarely, if ever, discussed. The fallout of Sirius' all too rash decision was one from which the Marauders had never recovered. It had easily been the turning point in their friendship. Remus hadn't spoken to them for weeks, spending his days alone and embarrassed at himself and his friends, the only brothers he had ever had.

It had been the first time in years James could remember Sirius apologizing, the first time he had truly felt he'd done something wrong – but not to Snape. He didn't give a piss about him. But he had done something horrible to Remus; he exposed him, and even worse, used him - took the one thing Remus hated about himself and turned it against him all for the sake of a prank. The wicked part of it all was that it put them in Snape's mercy, the very last place they wanted to be. It had been forgiven in time and they had moved on, but James knew that a part of Remus - and he wasn't sure how big the part - would never be able to completely forgive his friend.

Peter looked at him in alarm, clearly expecting him to do something.

James swallowed and prayed he wouldn't make it worse. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" Remus said harshly. "Don't tell me you never wonder what might have happened if you didn't help him."

He had no reply for this. In truth, he hadn't wondered, if only because he knew there was no other alternative. The way it happened was the only possible way it could have happened and that was all he thought about it. He would not, could not, think about any other result, because it simply would have been impossible to live with, for all of them.

"I hate this," Peter announced. "We used to…to own him, yeah? And now it's like he owns us."

"No one bloody owns us," Sirius spoke up, with a dark look in his eye. "No one owns the Marauders, least of all Snivellus. He'll get what's coming to him. One day he'll get it from someone worse than even us."

"Like Dumbledore?" James asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Remus laughed, and they all breathed a sigh of a relief that the moment – for now – was over. "Maybe even McGonagall," Remus said.

"So Prongs, not that we don't love having you around but if you're giving up your spacious single pad I'd be more than happy to take your spot," said Remus, clearly changing the subject. Though he would have loved to talk about almost anything else, the subject of living arrangements was not one of those things.

"I'm not giving it up."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Then why aren't you living in it?"

"Because," Sirius spoke up before James had a chance, "he's afraid of Lily."

"Oi, I am not afraid of Lily! I'm just trying to smooth things over for a bit."

"Smooth things over? Blimey. You're my best mate and all but I think this living with a girl business has finally turned you into one."

Peter and Remus snickered while James rolled his eyes. "Do you really want another beating, Padfoot? I personally think once was enough but if you don't agree-"

"We both know that I beat you -"

"And we all know that neither of you will actually win ever so get on with it," said Peter. "The quicker you get this over with, the sooner you can make things right with Lily."

James looked at his three friends. Behind the goofy grins he knew something serious was going on. Peter kept looking at the floor and biting his lip. Remus looked too smiley and happy and only Sirius seemed comfortable and still which meant something was wrong.

"Alright out with it. What's going on?"

"Nothing," they chorused.

It was silent for a moment as he stared them down.

Finally, Peter broke. " They think, and I agree, that…err...that you fancy Lily, and that's why you're being such a prat but you shouldn't because even though she's very pretty and much smarter and nicer and generally too good for you, you would be really good together."

He looked to Remus and Sirius for confirmation and they nodded their assent.

James shook his head. "You lot are absolutely mad." He sighed. "But I must be mad alongside you. Well lads, now that it's all out in the open – what the bloody hell am I going to do about this?"

The Marauders glanced at each other.

"Hope that a sudden brain defect makes Lily fall helplessly in love with you, even though it's completely against all rhyme or reason?"

"Exactly."

Sirius laughed. "Or you may want to start by pulling your head out of your ass and just talking to her."

"That could work."

Two hours after the meeting, I stumbled back into my dark common room, yawning as I failed miserably to keep my eyes open. The Charms essay had taken much longer than I anticipated. Of course, I'd also gone well over the required seventeen inches of parchment, but that couldn't be helped.

The cold temperature of the room chilled me instantly and I pointed my wand at the fireplace to get a fire going. The flames cast a dim light around the room, creating shadows that danced on the wall. As I put down my books on a nearby table, I noticed a lump in front of the fireplace that I had not been able to make out in the dark.

"James?" I questioned quietly, my eyes still trying to adjust to the semi-darkness.

The prone figure gave no answer as I moved closer. It had to be James; no one else would be here this late, but it made no sense. James hadn't been to the head room in days, and even if he was here now, why sleep on the cold floor when he could have gone to his room?

As I got closer, I realized that, indeed, it was James – asleep, snoring, and tangled in a mess of the throw blankets we usually kept on the couch. No, not snoring…mumbling, twisting, and turning. Oh Merlin, I thought, he's having a nightmare.

I sank to my knees when I reached him, my heart nearly ripping at the sight. I hadn't been this close to him in days, hadn't seen more than fleeting glances, but now that I was looking straight at him… Maybe it was the lack of light in the room. Maybe it was the way the crackling fire cast shadows over his face. Maybe it was just my paranoia. But he looked so… drained. There were bags under his eyes I was sure hadn't been there last week. His face held that yellow, almost sickly look of someone who wasn't getting enough sleep. He looked the same way I did, only days ago.

And yet, as preposterous as it was, I couldn't help but remember how I felt in that corridor not too long ago, with his body pressed against mine, the look in his eyes, the rapid beat of his heart, the way I had kissed his neck, how I had actually…oh god, had actually wanted him to kiss me.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my mind. Where the hell did that thought, that image, come from? And more importantly, why did it make me feel so damn hot?

James mumbled something again and my face heated at the direction my thoughts were going. How could I sit here, obsessing over a silly lapse in judgment, when I should have been helping him or, at the very least, leaving him alone?

He moaned, his head turning, "No...Don't go..."

My stomach turned. What was he dreaming about? I pressed my hand to his forehead and gasped when I felt how hot he was. His skin felt like it was on fire, and now that I looked closer I could see a thin sheen of sweat on his face and down his neck. James mumbled again, kicking the blanket around his legs. They were getting tangled the more he kept fighting with them, and it would have looked almost comical to me, if I hadn't been so worried. I grabbed the throw and pulled, trying to untangle it from his legs. Only it was as if James was determined to put up a fight, even unconscious. Every time I moved them one way, he would flail and kick in the other direction.

"Even in your sleep you like to get me hacked off at you," I murmured, glaring at his sleeping body.

But then he shivered, despite how hot the rest of him was, and I forgot how to be annoyed at all. He let out a low moan, and I shivered as well. "Please," he was whispering, his head thrashing from side to side. "Don't go. Not yet. Please, God, don't leave. Don't…"

I moved near his face, brushing the hair away from his eyes. I tried to wake him, almost frantic in my desperation. "James," I whispered right by his ear, "wake up. Come on, wake up." I shook his shoulders and placed a small kiss to his temple. "Please, love, come on, you need to get up." I had no idea what I was saying anymore, or how many endearments I was using. I couldn't calculate the exact moment that I began to struggle with getting him to sit up. I had no recollection of when I drew him into my arms, running my hands over his back in what I hoped what a soothing pattern, placing kisses to the top of his head, and trying not to fall over when he twisted. I just knew that I was doing it.

I rocked him back and forth as much as I could and attempted to calm his body down for when he woke up. "Don't leave," he kept whispering in broken, slurred tones. "Not yet. It's not fair. Too soon, it's too soon."

With a sickening feeling I realized what he was dreaming about. I rocked him harder, now desperate to wake him. "James, wake up. You need to get up. Please, get up."

"God no, please, don't. Don't leave me. No, Evey, get up, please."

"James," I shook him, running my hand through that unruly mop of his, begging for him to open his eyes. "You need to get up." I tried to keep my voice calm, but I was starting to shake from the strain of holding him up and the sheer of intensity of the situation.

James shuddered again, but his eyes were opening. They were rimmed with a tint of red and held that hazy, almost filmy quality to them that let me know he was only half awake. "Whozat? Waz goin on? Wa the-"

"It's just me," I whispered.

He squinted, and I realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing his glasses. "Lily?"

I nodded wordlessly, wondering how I could explain why I was up at all hours of the night, with my arms wrapped around someone I'd barely spoken to in four days.

"Oh." He swallowed. "Hi."

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

I smirked. "I live here."

"Wha-" James sat up suddenly, looking around. His shoulders slumped. "Oh, shit. You're…" He leaned against the couch turning to face me. He seemed resigned about something and sighed before saying anything else. "Hi, Lily."

"Hi, James," I said, frowning. I wish I understood his train of thought. It was so difficult to follow his thoughts, more so than I imagined.

"You were having a nightmare," I whispered, feeling the need to explain. I never had to try so hard to keep my voice from shaking. "It looked...bad. I just – I…just wanted to wake you up."

Any traces of a smile left his face. He nodded, closing his eyes. "How much did you hear?"

I thought for a moment. "Not…not too much. Just, you know, mumbling," I ducked my head a bit from his burning gaze, "…and stuff." He gave me a look to show that he clearly wasn't buying it. Still, it was fairly obvious that he was embarrassed, and for good reason. I had stumbled across something I was sure most people didn't know about. Something I was sure he didn't want me to know about. Something he didn't want to occur in the first place. Telling him I knew would make him more uncomfortable. Keeping it from him would make him angry. I basically had to choose between the lesser of two evils. I chose the first. "I know it was about Evelien."

His head slumped.

"I'm sorry," I added quickly. There was no reason, I knew, but I felt like I'd intruded on something private and an apology was the least I could do.

"Nah, I'm the one who fell asleep in the middle of the blasted room."

"Do you, uh, have nightmares like that often? I mean, you don't have to tell me. I was just wondering. It looked pretty bad and it would be really hard to deal with that…a lot." Merlin, could I sound any more like a blubbering fool around him?

"It used to happen a lot when I was younger. Now it just happens when things get really bad with her, or if I think about it too much."

"Oh." An awkward silence followed as I realized I still had my arms wrapped around him. I let go almost clumsily and sat upright, my hands folded in my lap, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

James yawned and stretched his arms while he sat up as well, and shot me a grin. "Just when I was getting comfortable."

My face reddened instantly in embarrassment and I ducked my head slightly. "I'm sorry about that," I said quickly. "You were just thrashing about, and I wanted to wake you up, but I didn't know what else to do, and –"

"Lily, I know. I was just taking the mickey. Don't even worry about it."

"I was just worried," I continued, more to myself than to James, "and I thought it would help. I mean, I didn't do it just too…well it's not like I wanted to, you know, hug you or anything, I just needed to wake you up and it was the first thing that entered my mind. Not because it was on my mind, far from it; I wasn't thinking about doing it or anything, and I didn't really mean to, and I didn't want to –"

"Jeez, Lily, I'm so glad that even the thought of being close to me puts you off so much."

I lifted my head to look at him. "What?"

He frowned. "It just thrills me to hear your aversion to being anywhere near me. For Merlin's sake, look at your right now! You're barely able to sit there, ready to bolt at any second."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from the guy who's been avoiding me for a week because of some stupid…" Bloody hell, no, why did I bring this up? Why, why, why?

"Some stupid what, Lily?"

"Nothing." I mumbled. "Forget it."

"No, tell me. What stupid event would you be referring to? After all, you couldn't possibly be thinking of that time in the hallway when-"

I looked at him pleadingly. Didn't he get that I didn't want to talk about this? "James, please. Don't."

"Don't what? Don't talk about how we almost kissed?" I shut my eyes desperately, trying in vain to stop the memory from flooding in. "Or should I not talk about how you decided the idea was so terrible that you brought up Dumbledore just to-"

"Oh how would you know what I was even thinking?" I shrieked furiously. I could feel myself reaching that dangerous point where I stopped caring what I said and instead just blurted out the first things that came to mind. "Up until now, you haven't spoken a single word to me! Don't sit there on your high horse and act all wounded when it's obvious that if anyone was really repulsed by what happened, it was you."

It was James' turn to gape. "Is that what you think? You thought I was…Oh, Lily, no." He moved closer to sit right in front of me and took my hands. His were unbelievably warm.

"Lil, I swear that's not what I thought at all."

"Really?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Really. You didn't repulse me. Merlin, you…you drove me mad. Absolutely bonkers. That's why I was avoiding you. You have no idea how much willpower it took to stay away from you that night, and how much…how many times I've thought about it since then. So I knew that I had to stay away from you for a little while because, well, I just don't have that much willpower. I mean if you knew what was going through my mind this week…well let's just say you wouldn't be comfortable talking with me right now."

I felt so hot I thought I was going to explode. I put my hands to my flaming cheeks and tried to calm down. "God, James. You can't just say things like that."

"Why not?" he asked with a shrug. "It's true. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No."

The truth was, it did make me uncomfortable, horribly uncomfortable, but not because he said it. No, it made me uncomfortable because I liked hearing it so much. Too much.

He smiled knowingly. "You're a horrible liar, Lily."

"James?"

"Yes?"

"I understand why you did it…you know, avoided me. But it just seems so unlike you. Aren't you the poster child for saying what you want to say, doing what you want to do, right when you want to do it? You're pretty much Mr. Impulsive. I don't get it."

He laughed softly. "I'm not exactly Mr. Impulsive. I do occasionally think before I act. I mean, the problem with saying what you want and doing what you want in this case was that I didn't know what I wanted to say or do."

"Oh." I slowly looked away from the fire and turned my head to look at him. "And now?"

He looked confused. "And now what?"

Keep looking at him, I ordered myself, keep looking. "Now do you know what you want?"

James took almost a full minute to respond. "No," he said. "I have no idea."

I nodded for lack of anything better to do and grimaced as a sharp pain shot up my neck and spread to my shoulders.

He noticed, concern flashing across his face. "Are you okay?"

I tried to nod again but that ended up hurting even more. "Yeah, I'm fine," I replied instead, rubbing at my neck. "I get this all the time when I'm stressed or tired. If I just…" I tried turning my head to the side, "Ow. If I relax, it goes away." He didn't look too convinced so I added, "Hey, it's nothing, I swear."

"Turn around."

"What?"

He just motioned in a circular pattern with his hand. "Just trust me."

The last time he had said those words, I ended up pressed against him in a dark hallway while he hid from teachers and I kissed his neck. Disastrous, really.

"Okay."

I turned around and folded my hands in my lap, waiting. James gathered my hair and let if fall over one shoulder before gently digging his palms into my neck. I jumped, a bit surprised.

He dropped his hands instantly. "Are you okay?" he asked again in his voice low right against my ear.

"Mhmm." I didn't trust myself to actually form words because I was afraid it'd all come out in whimpers. "You can, umm, keep going, if you want."

He chuckled and brought his hands to my neck once again. I sighed softly as his hands began to work out the kinks and knots.

"Consider this my formal apology for being such a prat." When he spoke, the whisper was so deep and thrilling I honestly thought I might faint on the spot. This was bordering on absurd. There was nothing about a voice that should be able to hold such power over a person, and yet I knew James could have asked me to run starkers through the Great Hall and I probably would have agreed. Of course, the marvelous job his hands were doing wasn't helping me stay coherent. His fingers were firm and gentle at the same time, his movements slow and deliberate. Every so often, he would simply glide the tips of his fingers across my shoulders, and even through the thick layer of clothing, I could feel the heat from his touch.

"I think you're almost forgiven."

"Just almost?"

"Well ignoring me was a really daft decision. And you did leave me alone at the meeting. I had to cover for you, and I was not very good at it."

He laughed and I barely suppressed a groan when his fingers dug into the crook of my neck. When I felt the tingling of moisture from his lips where his fingers had been only seconds before, I couldn't suppress it any more.

It should have shocked me, should have scandalized me, should have made me come to my senses and run to my room.

It should have. But it didn't.

I could feel his hesitation, his worry, as he sat silently behind me, his now tense hands resting loosely on my hips. I grabbed them, winding my fingers over his, squeezing them softly as my silent answer to his silent question. I only hoped he knew what I meant. But he was waiting still, even after he squeezed them back, waiting to hear from me, waiting for me to say something. So I did.

"Don't stop."

It was strange, the way my voice sounded - husky, low, sexy maybe – when I said it. It might have been a breath of a whisper coming out of my mouth, but it sounded so loud in that empty room. It seemed to echo, my own words coming back at me 100 times per second. Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop…over and over and over. I heard James swallow, anticipating his next move – though the tiny part of my mind that wasn't taken over by sensation and feeling and dizziness screamed that I shouldn't. But the air had somehow changed around us. It was thicker, more serious…lustful, even. I suddenly felt a ridiculous need for James to touch me somewhere, anywhere. My leg, my elbow, my nose, my eyebrow, I didn't care, so long as I could feel him.

I nearly moaned when his hands moved down my spine to work on my lower back. It was only my neck that hurt, and I was fairly certain he knew that. But if he couldn't remember, I definitely wasn't going to remind him, especially not when his fingers were playing with the edge of my sweater so deliciously.

"So," he said casually, as his hand touched the skin of my waist. "You covered for me?"

"I attempted to," I corrected. My voice was coming in such a high pitch I was sure he couldn't understand it. "I don't think anyone took me seriously."

"I doubt that."

Was that a hitch to his voice too? Was I imagining things now? Was I really just going as insane as his hands made me feel? "No, really. I even had to take off points from Slytherin to get Beatrice Wilkins to back off."

"You took off points from Slytherin in order to cover for me, even though I left you alone at the meeting to deal with everything yourself and avoided you like an idiot for almost a week?"

It was so hard to concentrate on his question when all I could think was Oh dear God, please do not stop touching me because I think I might die on the spot if you do. "Um…yes?"

"Wow."

"What?"

"It's just that you are absolutely…"

I could feel his breath against my neck and couldn't contain the shiver. If James noticed he made no mention of it. "Absolutely what?" I whispered as I turned my head very slightly to face him.

"Absolutely incredible."

I could only gulp in reply. "Thank you."

James chuckled and let go of my waist to run a hand through his hair. I tried not to look too mournful that he was no longer touching me. "I think I'm wearing off on you. I just complimented you and you didn't even blush."

I smirked and moved so that I was fully facing him. "Well the compliment itself wears off when I hear the same thing from you every week. After a person hears that she's absolutely incredibly more than once, it has to sink in a bit."

"It should sink in. I really mean it. You've really become one of my best friends, and I'm not friends with just anyone."

"I'm glad you feel that way. After last week, I really wasn't sure. I thought maybe I'd ruined things-"

"Lily, please, whatever you think, don't think that. I was completely wrong. I thought maybe I was doing the right thing by staying away for a few days. I was planning on talking to you and almost…starting over? You know, trying to ease back into it. It might have been a decent plan if I wasn't asleep in front of the bloody fireplace as soon as you walked in tonight."

"Yes, why were you sleeping down here? Your bedroom is right up the stairs."

"I was just up reading some of the notes you left from the meeting I'd missed and I must have fallen asleep."

"I left notes?" I groaned. "I thought I had gotten them all. Oh, I'm going to kill Wilkins; she just put me into such a worked up state."

He tilted my chin up with his finger. "I'm sorry, Lily. I mean it. Not because of the notes, because they were just about the dance and you have to relax because it's not a big deal. But I am sorry for doing the one thing I said I wouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told you I wouldn't leave you with all the work. Do you remember - that first day in the Great Hall, right after the feast? I really did mean it. I don't want you to think that you have to do all of this alone."

"James, it was just one meeting. Honestly, you have to relax, because it's not a big deal," I told him, mimicking his words. "And besides, I think you've more than made up for it."

"So I'm fully forgiven now?"

I smiled at him. "Absolutely."

"Good. I don't think I have the energy to stay up much longer and…continue my apology.

My entire body heated at the thought. "It is getting ridiculously late," I whispered. "Maybe we should get to bed."

"Evans, I know you can't get enough of me, but I never thought you'd be so forward."

Horrified, I looked up at him sharply. "What? No, I didn't mean-"

"Relax, love," he said. "I was only joking, I know what you meant. Unless of course, I just brought to mind a wealth of suppressed fantasies for you, in which case I'd be more than willing to oblige."

I smacked his arm and concentrated very hard on not laughing, though it didn't work. "You're great big pervert. Really though, James. We both need to actually sleep. Separately."

"Separately? Do we really have to?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

He didn't sound like he was joking anymore. "Do you actually believe that I would-"

"No, no," he said quickly. "Now who's the pervert? I just meant sleeping…if you didn't mind, to stay with me tonight? I feel better with you around."

My heart pounded in my chest. Sleeping in a bed with someone you were dangerously attracted to was never a safe choice. Every time I was around James it resulted in the embarrassment of at least one, if not both, of us. Never the less, I found myself nodding.

"Okay," I replied.

"We can take your bed if that makes you more comfortable."

Sweet Merlin, just the image of James lying in my bed was too ridiculous to fathom. Then again, the idea of being in his bed made my head spin.

"Why don't we stay here instead?" I offered. "You've made it quite comfortable and the fire is still going."

He shrugged and stretched his arm across my body. "Sure."

I held my breath and kept extremely still. He was very close to me. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you a pillow from the couch," he replied, handing me the large gold one from the corner, as well as another throw blanket.

"Oh."

I put the pillow on floor and laid down in the stiffest possibly position, keeping my hands, arms, and legs right next to my body. James placed the throw over me and frowned.

"Lily?'

"Hmm?" Did my voice sound as frantic as I thought?

"I'm not going to do anything. You know that, right?"

"What?" Oh no, now my palms were sweaty.

"I won't try anything. I mean, I know what I said before, about what I was thinking, but I wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable. That's not why I asked-"

"I know," I interrupted, staring at the ceiling. "I know that."

"Then why do you look like you're afraid I'll attack you?

"I don't. And I'm not."

"So you typically sleep as if you're in a coffin?" His voice was teasing and it calmed me. I was being silly, I rationalized. But why did I still feel worried?

James reached for my hand, keeping a safe distance so as not to startle me. Squeezing my fingers gently, he laid down as well, a few inches away. The pounding of my heart went into overdrive. I let go of his hand in a way I hoped was subtle. It was almost a frenetic panic now, which was coursing through my body at reckless speeds. What the hell was wrong with me?

"I swear, Lil, I have no intention to try anything."

"I know," I said. And I did know. But it did nothing to calm my nerves. Breathe, I told myself, breathe. You're acting completely barmy. Slowly, I turned on my side to face him. "I'm sorry," I whispered to him, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Maybe this isn't a good idea."

"No, this is fine. I'm fine. I'm just being stupid." To prove this to him, as well as to myself, I moved closer, lightly resting my head against his shoulder. There, I thought, that was okay.

"You sure?" he asked, turning his head to look at me.

"Positive."

"Okay." He brought his arm around me and squeezed before letting me go once more. "Good night."

"Night." The feeling was back, only now it was bitter, almost resentful.

I stayed awake for much of the night, long after I knew James had fallen asleep, trying to process my own mind. Maybe I was just going insane. I needed to relax and stop being such a twit. I had no intention of being locked in the loony bin at Saint Mungos. No intention…

I gasped aloud, and then froze to make sure I hadn't woken him up. When I was sure I didn't, I let myself quietly freak out.

"I swear, Lil, I have no intention of trying anything."

Oh Merlin, that was it. Suddenly, I was able to identity the fierce pangs that floated through my body.

Disappointment.

James Potter was sleeping with me right by his side, had grabbed my hand, had put his arm around me. He had touched and kissed my neck, had all but caressed my waist, had to have known that I had some reaction to it. But he had no intention to do anything else with me. It should have put me at ease that things could return to normal and stop being so awkward and strained. But I wasn't at ease.

I looked at James' face, took in his steady breathing, and assessed the casual way his arm was pushed up against mine. He was definitely sound asleep.

And I was definitely disappointed.

Lily,

Morning, sleepyhead. I would have woken you before I left but you looked too comfortable and probably would have hexed me if I tried – though it would serve you right considering how many times you woke me up. Luckily for you, I was running late anyway and didn't have a chance. Point is, sorry to ditch you and miss out on the awkward morning after. And how I long to experience your bed head and morning breath for myself. Perhaps another time.

- James

PS – You are by far the most comfortable pillow I've ever used.

PPS – I quite enjoyed the multiple kicks during the night. Really, my shins thank you.

PPPS – You're the best, Lil. Thanks.

I smiled to myself and stretched as I read James' note. He might have thought he was being sneaky, running off at nearly dawn for adventures unknown, but I'd woken up nearly every time he moved that night. The morning was no exception.

It was the most uncomfortable sleep of my life, though it was no fault of his. I had held my breath for most of it, frozen with…anticipation? Worry? General awkwardness? At one point during the evening he had turned over on his side, his chest completely aligned against my back, an arm thrown against my body almost protectively. His hand had fallen to a point not far from my own and I could still feel the way my pulsed raced as my own hand tingled from the proximity. I had wanted so badly to just reach up my fingers and tangle them with his, to mold myself to him. I must have laid there for a good ten minutes, staring at his arm and debating with myself. But by then James had moved over onto his back again – apparently he was even more of a restless sleeper than I was – his hand out of my reach.

I had slept horribly, mainly because I hadn't slept at all. I must have gotten a grand total of two hours of rest by 4 am and only because my body was too exhausted to stay away for much longer. I hadn't been able to stop myself from rolling over as well, curling up against him, matching my uneven breathing to his. Only it seemed that this wasn't as smooth and graceful a transition as I hoped, rather one involving lots of kicking. Oh well, he deserved it for being such a ruddy git, and for keeping me up half the night…even if the latter wasn't entirely his fault.

I groaned and rolled over to James' side of the makeshift bed, berating myself for being such a loony about this whole business. But I couldn't help it if such…closeness and intimacy, really, unnerved me, especially since it seemed James was so nonchalant about it. It was as if noting fazed him, the lucky prat. Well, alright, that wasn't entirely true. I happened to know a few things that did indeed faze him; I was even on that list.

Sighing, I sat up, clutching his pillow to my body. What was it about James that made me act like such a blasted fool? Why was it that I could never act like a normal, fully functioning human being around him? How did he manage to get me to do and say and feel things that simply weren't me? And why didn't I seem to mind as much as I should have that he was changing me, whether he realized it or not?

I got up reluctantly, folding up the throw blanket and setting it back on the couch. I straightened up the common area as much as I could and decided that I still had enough time to go to sleep and regain some energy. Without thinking about it too much, I grabbed the red and gold pillow James had been sleeping on and brought it with me. Once in my room, I changed into the rattiest and most comfortably oversized t-shirt I could find and collapsed into my bed. I gathered his pillow and groaned to myself. Maybe bringing it with me wasn't such a good idea after all, not if I wanted to sleep. I fluffed it out, pounded it on the bed, switched the sides, and tried again. This time I groaned aloud.

It still smelled like him.

Not my best work. I'm sorry it sounds so horribly American.

Till next time…