To her surprise, he was drunk again the next night. And early. She assumed, it being a Saturday, that she could stay in the common room until at least 8:30. He would be out with his friends well past then, as he had been the whole day. She'd be blessed with an entirely Potter-free day.

Until 7:30, that is, when he stumbled through the door.

"I'm not drunk," he said. Never a good sign.

Lily allowed herself one calming breath and quietly closed her book.

"Of course not," she said. "If you'll excuse me-"

"I was drunk last night though. And talking, a lot. Just generally being an arse, really. Don't know what I was thinking."

"Well, it's in the past now," Lily said, unwilling to tell him it was fine. Equally unwilling to get into a confrontation.

"Yeah. Alight. Yeah. Umm . . . and thanks. For patching me up. That was nice of you. With me waking you up and all. You didn't have to."

"It was nothing," she said, rising and starting toward the door. He caught her arm and pulled her around.

"The part about me thinking you were fit-"

"It's fine, James. It's not as if I'm going to run around bragging that your eyesight degenerates the more you drink."

"That's not-"

"I need to get back to work," she said, giving him a tight smile.

"Course. Yeah. Your project. Better get on that."

He knocked on her door just a little over an hour later. She had just finished casting the charm on the last of her textbooks. Setting them aside, she went to answer.

"Yes?"

He opened him mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, cast his gaze back toward his own bedroom. She knew that look. He was contemplating retreat. She did it all the time. It was nice to have the tables turned for once.

"What is it?" she asked.

"About, before. Er. Umm . . ." his hands went back to his hair. "Er, about last night. And me thinking that you're fit-"

"We really don't need to discuss it, James."

He took a breath. His eyes locked on her face. "Yeah. You're right. That wouldn't help, would it?"

He yanked her forward by the front of her shirt, and his mouth crashed into hers. A switch flipped. She never even tried to resist. There were no thoughts of being reasonable, of remembering he wasn't someone she wanted anything to do with. All she could do was want.

He pushed her back toward the bed, never really breaking contact. His hands streaked over her, as mumbled compliments blended with curses and became absolute gibberish.

She could have put a stop to it. There was a moment, just as his fingers caught the hem of her shirt, when he paused. When he looked up at her. When he sought confirmation. Permission.

And she gave it.

She didn't expect to sleep. She probably wouldn't have. She probably would have slunk out of the room on some weak excuse. Except he hadn't really been that interested in letting her go. She was held hostage by her sex drive. Which was really unfair, given that she hadn't had one a few hours before.

First times were supposed to be bad. She was sure of it. That was a thing. Everyone knew that. Except, apparently, James Potter.

Now the sun was coming up, and he was wrapped around her like she was his life preserver. He was supposed to be a jerk. That was a thing too. He had a reputation for beating feet the moment he'd finished.

Apparently he didn't believe in meeting expectations. It shouldn't really have been a surprise.

But now she didn't have an exit strategy. They were in her room. She couldn't exactly do the walk of shame from her own room. He was the one who was supposed do it, anyway.

He would, of course. He was guaranteed to regret it the moment he woke up.

Her stomach turned. This wasn't how she'd planned her first time. She was supposed to wake up with the love of her life, somewhere romantic. He was supposed to make her breakfast.

She felt tears prick her eyes. With no better option, she buried her face in her pillow and tried to get control of herself.

When she felt lips press against her shoulder, she froze.

"Morning," he said, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," she mumbled back, keeping her face turned away.

His lips traveled over from her shoulder to her neck. "Did you sleep alright?" he asked, between kisses.

"Yeah. Uh, fine."

His teeth grazed her back as he moved down her spinal cord. "Good."

"Weren't you supposed to sneak out in the middle of the night?" she asked. She immediately felt stupid for saying it out loud.

He chuckled. "No," he said, nipping at her lower back. "But it sounds like you thought about it." His hands drifted down, fingers moving over her thighs. "I'm a little surprised you're still here, honestly."

"It's my room," she mumbled into the pillow.

He laughed. "It is." His mouth trailed back up her back, her neck, stopping just behind her ear. "You had fun, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes. She had no idea that just his mouth on her ear could be so erotic. His fingers combed through her hair, brushed against her neck. "I don't know if 'fun' is exactly the word I would use."

"No?" he followed the single syllable up with a quick nip. "What word would you use?"

He bit her then, just hard enough to draw a moan out of her. Not enough to break the skin. Not enough to hurt her.

"We're going to do it again, aren't we?" he asked, rolling her over to face him.

"We already did it again," she said. And with nowhere else to go, she tried to hide her face against his chest.

He laughed and let himself fall onto his back, pulling her along with him. His hands stroked through her hair. "The great thing about sex is you can do it as often as you want. Well, as often as you're able, anyway. My kind, we need a little recovery time."

"I don't think I'm able," she said, refusing to look at him.

When he said nothing, she had to force herself to lift her head and take a quick peek. His face was unreadable. "Well," he said finally, tucking some hair behind her ear. "When you are, then."

She let her head drop, resting her cheek against his chest and staring at her wall.

"So why didn't you sneak out?" she asked.

His fingers drew lazy circles on her back. "Why would I?" he asked. "I was exactly where I wanted to be."

She tried to digest that, found she didn't know how.

"So what happens now?"

"Now? Whatever we want, I guess."

"What do you usually do, in these situations?"

"Me?" he asked. "I usually sneak out in the middle of the night."

She had nothing to say to that, either.

"I'd like to do this again, though. I think it could work. Neither of us are really looking for anything, and I'm sure you don't want people to find out, any more than I do."

"Yeah," she said, eyes still on the bare wall across from her. "Can't have that."