Right about now, I wanted to kill James Potter. Usually I would just have an indescribable urge to punch him in the face, but it had developed to homicide in the span of about ten minutes.

I was squished uncomfortably against the wall, his back pressing into me as he peaked in through the kitchen doorway. Waves of exasperation were rolling off of me, and I hoped that they were reaching him somehow.

"You just happened to forget the fact that we weren't allowed in the kitchen? That it was against the rules?" I whispered harshly to the back of his head. James shot me a look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, as if asking me "Rules? What are those?"

I probably should be blaming myself. It should have gotten through my thick head that we were still at a resort for Merlin's sake! This wasn't Hogwarts, where house elves would welcome you into the kitchen. I should have remembered the kitchen would be filled with the bustling servers and cooks who worked there. James and I were not exactly dressed the part to act as hotel workers. We'd be thrown out before James could spout whatever clever excuse he would come up with.

"No, I didn't happen to forget," James muttered back to me as his dark eyes kept following the hotel workers. "And we're still going to do as I promised. We're going to get in there, get food, and hitch it out of there."

Suddenly, I wasn't very hungry anymore. It actually felt more like I was going to throw up just thinking about sneaking into the kitchens without being caught.

"I think I'm fine now." I practically choked out, trying to slip away from him. His hand came up to the wall as he whirled around to block my way.

"Are you chickening out, Lily?" A strange feeling came over me as he gave me that mischievous glance. It was like I was one of the Marauders at school, and we were about to venture right under Filch's nose to plant some fireworks in his office. We were probably about to break twenty of the hotel's regulations, and he was grinning like an idiot. He was actually having fun.

I just had to get myself wrapped up in this, didn't I?

"No, I'm not chickening out." My voice sure sounded like it was though. I coughed, clearing my throat. "I just don't feel like getting thrown out of the resort before my vacation is over."

"We won't get thrown out. I promise." He was unnecessarily close again, just like the night before in the shower.

"You're making an awful lot of promises lately," I commented, more to myself than him. James smirked at me anyway.

Then without another word, before I could mentally prepare myself for this endeavor, he was pulling me into the kitchen. The place was huge, and smelled wonderful and awful at the same time. The smell of eggs Benedict came from one direction while rotten potatoes came from the other. It confused my nose so much; I think that it just shut off. For a moment, there were no workers in sight. It was just James, me, and humongous ovens. Were we really going to be that lucky?

But I had thought too soon. Just as a trickle of relief had began to flow through me, about five of them burst through the doors we had just come from. James forced us quickly behind a stove as the servers scuttle past us.

It was like he had a sixth sense or something. When people would come around the corner or begin to turn our way, we were somehow behind various cabinets or counters.

My eyes followed every worker that passed us, hoping that they would stay oblivious to the two seventeen year olds behind the cabinets.

Once the passage was clear again, James was pulling us away again. He seemed to be aiming for the large pantry in the back, but a counter stood in our way.

A very robust cook stood behind the counter. ; A cook who just so happened to be holding a very large, dangerous looking knife in his hand.

I felt James' other hand graze the small of my back as he pushed us both into a crouching position. We passed in front of the cook as he chopped, moving as slow and soundless as we could.

I squeezed James hand tightly, my throat closing. I could just imagine the cook discovering us, holding blades against our throats, muttering darkly with a sadistic smile. It may have been a little dramatic, but my mind was running a million miles an hour at the moment.

The large cook glanced up once, his full moustache twitching, but before he could look down on us, James had dragged me away from the counter, right under that chef's moustache, and into the pantry.

Immediately, I felt cramped in the dark room. James' hand slipped out of mine, and I regretted that my hand wanted to quickly grab his back. That thought was gone in a snap though as he brushed up against me.

"Sorry, I can't find the light switch." His breath fanned my face. I was glad it was dark, because then I could actually convince myself that my eyes hadn't unfocused for a minute.

Something tumbled to the floor beside us, and James mumbled an oath that I could barely make out.

The click was barely audible, but then a dim light revealed the small room. Never ending shelves of food surrounded us: crackers, apples, pears, kiwis, chocolate, beans, carrots, every kind of bread with names I could barely remember.

My stomach grumbled again, yearning to be full. I wanted to just plop down on the floor right here and stuff myself, but the clanging of pots and sharpening of knives could still be heard through the door. I really didn't want to be around if that huge cook stepped in to grab some carrots.

"Do you have any preferences?" James asked, tossing a cup of pudding my way. I fumbled to catch it, squeaking a little bit. He chuckled at me as he turned back to the shelves, slipping more food into his pockets.

"Why couldn't have we just asked somebody for food? Or gone to the dining room?"

He was turned away from me, but I knew he was smirking.

"They don't serve any meals right now. And trust me; you don't want to ask the cooks to make something for you." Why did he speak as if he was talking from experience? I wasn't sure I wanted to hear that story, if there even was one.

"What about room service?" I asked, scanning the shelves. As uneasy as I felt about smuggling food, my stomach was screeching at me.

"They never get the orders right. And they take forever." James stated matter-of-factly, taking a bite of an apple.

"Time just seems to go by slower when you're hungry. You don't have to break all of the rules just to get something to eat." I mimicked his voice as I took an apple for myself.

He looked down at me with an odd look. "You didn't have to come with me."

I met his gaze with a start. Of course I hadn't had to go with him. I knew that. Did he think me an idiot?

Yet here I was, standing here in a giant pantry, not three inches from the boy.

I was brought back to the previous night again with how he was looking at me in this moment. How his eyes seemed to darken, and his brow creased as if something intrigued him. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

We hadn't even heard the door creak open.

"Well Fred, I don't think it's mice that are your problem." A gravelly voice came from the now open door. A bulky shadow blocked the already dim light from the dying light bulb, looming over James and I. Behind the shadow, the cook from before looked absolutely furious, I'm actually surprised there wasn't steam erupting from his ears.

I felt that sick feeling again, until James' hand slid into mine. That feeling shouldn't be as familiar as it was to me.

The bulky man stepped more into the small amount of light, giving us a good look at him. He looked as if he was a veteran of every goblin war in every history book at Hogwarts. He was even more gruesome than Filch, and that is truly saying something.

"So the kitchens are a free for all now? When did this happen?" His accent was strange, maybe a mix of something? Scottish and German? I couldn't tell. My brain was a little more preoccupied with trying to figure out how we could escape from this hulk of a man.

"Well, nutrition is necessary to humans." James answered the gorilla like man so calmly, toasting him with the apple he held in his hand.

The man's brow made an even deeper crease in his forehead as he stared at the fruit.

"That doesn't mean you can intrude."

"Are we really intruding? We are guests here sir." I couldn't see very well in the lack of light, but I could have sworn that the man's face was redder than my hair.

"That doesn't give you the right to be here." The man reached for his pocket, his face getting a dangerous shadow over it.

Just as he lunged for us, James diverted us to the side. His shoulder skimmed one of the shelves, causing multiple cans of peas, beans, and corn to tumble to the floor, falling onto the large man.

The cook was still shakily gripping his large knife, but I barely got a glance at him before James whisked us away. He did not even bother dodging any of the servers this time. We barreled past them, the racket of clattering platters and loud complaints following us.

We were a few hallways away from the kitchens when we stopped, trying to catch our breath.

"I blame you for that!" I shouted, still heaving for air. "We almost got ourselves killed in a kitchen because of you!"

My mind kept reminding me of what he said in the pantry. "You didn't have to come with me." I thought he would throw that back in my face now. But when he finally peaked up at me, his glasses were lying crooked on his nose from shaking; shaking from laughter. He was laughing. He couldn't even make a witty reply because he was laughing so hard.

I attempted to stay serious, to stay angry at him. But again, it was impossible. With him now sliding to the ground as his laughter overtook him, I couldn't help but join in. We ended up leaning on each other for support. We probably looked ridiculous with our pockets overflowing with food and tears streaming from our eyes.

"Lily?" My eyes shot open. Down the hall, my sister was staring right at James and me. "Is that you?"

"Oh shit." I muttered, frozen to the spot.

"There you are!"

Down the opposite side of the hallway, the Filch of the resort was storming towards us, his ruddy face looking like he had just won the lottery.

"That's our cue." James whispered to me. Gripping my hand again, he led us down towards my sister.

"James, no! I can't be seen by-" But he swerved before we met up with Petunia. He pushed open a door to a narrow stairway that was barely even visible. How he knew it was there, I had no idea.

"Ladies first." He whispered, repeating the same motion he had this earlier this morning. That last time I followed that gesture, things didn't go well, as our present situation would show.

"I ought to-"

"Yes of course you ought to, Lily. But we don't really have time for whatever you ought to do." And with a warm, large hand pressed to the small of my back he pushed me up the creaky staircase and slammed the door behind us.