James twirled a strand of Lily's hair around his finger as she read over a Transfiguration lesson. They sat beneath an oak tree, not far from the lake, two among the many other students sprawled out on the Hogwarts grounds, enjoying the beginning of spring.

"Lily."

"Hmmm?" She didn't look up from her book.

James leaned close to her ear. The honeysuckle scent of her hair distracted him briefly and he simply buried his nose in her tresses.

"Shouldn't you be studying for N.E.W.T's?" she asked, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek.

"I wanted to tell you something," he murmured.

Her hand drifted to her book to mark her place and she turned to look at him, forcing him to reluctantly withdraw his nose from her hair. She watched him with an expectant smile.

"Lily." Now that the time came, he found his mouth suddenly dry and his throat clicked as he swallowed several times. His hand jumped to his hair before he could stop it.

"Is something wrong, James?" she asked quietly, her hand moving to grip his knee reassuringly.

"Er, no. It's just, well, I'm a stag."

Lily's lips parted as if she were about to say something, but then her brows knit together. "Um, maybe you need to explain this to me."

James scratched his head. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tell her he was an animagus right now. It had seemed important this morning when she'd mentioned the hoof print on her bed, but now…She would endlessly bug him for all the details and then still come up with more questions. But if he didn't say anything, she was going to press him to explain. Shit. He shouldn't have said anything in the first place. "Er-well, you see, well you know how Professor Dumbledore was talking about that painting the other day?"

"You mean the other night when he caught us—," she blushed.

He nodded. "Yeah. Well you know how he talked about the stag lost in the dark and how it was searching for a pond, and we could see the eternal glow of the pond in the painting?" He'd been thinking about this, but it was something he didn't think he'd ever tell her. Oh well, it was better than what he was first going to say.

"James—," she raised an eyebrow, thoroughly perplexed.

He rushed on. "Well, I mean that's me. You know when I always goaded you to argue? You were always so passionate; there was something more lifelike about you than any other girl I'd ever encountered. I was drawn to that passion, the way you always held for what was right. I fought with you hoping to find something in that passion—I don't know. Maybe it was a search for what's right, what's just, or maybe just what life is. When I made you cry, I wondered if there was something in those tears to learn from. I was drawn to you because, well, because, I don't know. My mind said I should hate you and yet something in me wouldn't let that happen, something made me like you, no matter what. I'm the stag lost in the dark, driven by you to find the pond to understand you, to understand life."

Lily simply blinked at him. "So you're not actually a stag?"

He laughed uncomfortably. Did she suspect that he was speaking literally or was she just questioning his tone? "How could I be, a, you know, stag?"

"Well you said it like—like, like you'd say I'm a boy, or I'm James."

James rolled his eyes at her. "Hopefully I don't always mention such obvious things."

She tilted her head, her green eyes contemplating him. He'd never realized that the green was so living, as if, somehow, the green in the grass and trees ripened because of her gaze. A small smile tugged at her lips and she laughed softly. "James you're always surprising me, I just thought, well," her voice became slightly defensive, as if he would make fun of her for thinking he was being literal, "you never know with you," she finished with a sigh.

James grinned and moved his arm around her shoulders. "I wouldn't want you to get bored of me."

She snorted. "I seriously doubt that." She leaned her head against his chest. "I'd be worried if I got bored around you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So James?"

"What?"

"It was just a metaphor, right?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah." He heard her sniff and her hand raised to her face. Was she crying? "Are you okay?"

"James that was one of the profoundest metaphors I've ever heard."

He didn't quite know how to respond to that so he opted for a thank you.

Lily's hair slid up against his chest as she shook her head. "No, thank you, James."

James swallowed, trying to work out the lump in his throat—Lily was close to making him cry. He ran a hand through his hair. "So, um, next time you're mad at me, I'll come up with another one like that, ok?"

Lily looked up at him. He couldn't quite tell if she was frowning or smiling. "Do you always have to ruin the moment?"

He grinned. "I don't ruin moments—I just make them unique."

She was definitely smiling now. "What am I going to do with you, Potter?"

James pretended to groan. "Aw, c'mon Lily, do you have to use such obvious lead ins?"

Lily's eyebrows lifted into her draping bangs. "What?!"

"You obviously wanted a kiss."

"No not really. But how about: I help you find a little more understanding to life, as a lead in?"

James couldn't help the mischievous grin that spread across his face. "That could be taken fairly broadly. I mean, do you mean a snog, shag or…"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Stop while you're ahead."

"So we're going for the shag?" She didn't need to say anything; her expression was quite eloquent. "Snog sounds good."