Drink Me

1. A Bad Idea

If his arm brushes against her elbow one more time, she's going to kill him.

"…bloody school night, no one's going to be tripping over their feet, drunk in the corridors, waiting for us to just find them, you know?" His eyes are bright as they glance down at her, hazel and alive and enthusiastic. Everything about him is the same—the stupid smile always lingering on his mouth, the shock of dark hair atop his head, the wild gesticulations of his hands in a conversation that requires none. And here, his robes go swish, the fabric dragging against her elbow once more. Her brow twitches in annoyance. James looks pleased. "No one's that dumb. Kind of pointless to make us do this every day, if you ask me."

Huh. Arrogant prat.

She could just push him against the fucking wall and kiss him.

…

Kill him.

KILL HIM, she meant.

Lily increases her pace and folds her arms over her chest, annoyed and horrified at the train of her thoughts. "Don't worry, Potter." She rolls her eyes, impressed by the casual tone of her own voice. "We're almost done. You can return to your little shenanigans with the boys in no time."

"Aw, Evans, you're not such a bad company." He grins, easily keeping up with her. "Although, I'm sure even you'd agree that we could be spending this time in much more interesting ways."

The back of her neck heats, eyes snapping to his. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What?" He shrugs, an infuriating smirk in place, and ugh, what an arse. "I only meant that you could at least help keep the conversation up. I'm doing all the work here."

Lily scoffs. "Sure."

"What? I'm serious."

"I believe you."

"No, really, Evans," He bumps lightly against her, and her fingers flex around empty air, wishing it were his throat. "What did you think I was implying?"

"Nothing."

"No? Then why is your face so red?"

Fuck him, it really is. She can feel her ears burning to a crisp under the undivided force of his attention. "I swear to Merlin, Potter, you better—"

James laughs, loud and boisterous, the sound not at all rich and honeyed like everyone claims it to be. His arm, for some reason, dares to sling around her shoulders. Her body, for an even weirder reason, allows it to happen. Possibly because the November chill has made the castle corridors draughty, and Lily isn't particularly layered up today. And it's a well-known fact that all teenage boys are walking furnaces. Possibly.

"Relax." He jostles her, violently enough that her hands drop down against her sides. "I'm only joking. Had enough time to know you'd rather be on a moonlit stroll with the giant squid, haven't I?"

He winks to accompany the question, lilt teasing, gait casual, but despite all the signs given that he's perfectly able to laugh off their stony history—has laughed about it before, in fact, like those screaming matches were nothing but impulsive reactions of immature minds—she is not quite as easily able to erase the unpleasant tug of guilt in her stomach. It's not that she regrets putting him in his place at fifteen—quite the contrary, in fact—but to hear him dismiss the possibility of her ever considering him a potential… a potential something, ever, doesn't sit right.

Not that—not that she does consider him to be anything.

But it wouldn't be the most outlandish thing, is all.

"James," Lily sighs, grateful that she sounds more exasperated than miserable. "Come on."

Something in his features softens at her use of his first name, long fingers drumming against her shoulder subconsciously. "Okay, okay, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

"You know what would be funny though?" His mouth slants into a smirk again, and her stomach tumbles—in wariness, of course. "If you fell madly in love with me one of these days."

Lily groans, shoving him away roughly as he laughs again, all too amused by his own joke. "God, that is literally the opposite of stopping. You're really insufferable, you know that?"

"Lighten up, Evans."

"Lighten—I'm perfectly able to—"

"Berrybottle Drops," he tells the portrait to the head's office, cutting over her loud harrumph. She glares at the back of his broad-shouldered robes as he walks inside, hoping the burn of the stare makes him uncomfortable. Wishful thinking on her part, but it's better than pulling out her wand and hexing him. If only she wasn't so averse to Azkaban and its dementors. "Oh. What's this?"

At the curious, interested rise of his voice, Lily peers around him to see what's caught his attention. The object in question seems easy enough to spot: a round-bottomed vial of potion, its contents cherry red and faintly glowing, sits near the edge of the desk before them. Sidestepping James, she moves closer, eyeing the unfamiliar concoction with a healthy dose of trepidation.

"It's—" she tilts her head, squinting. "There's something written down here."

"Is there?" James asks. She frowns at the barely-controlled thrill in his voice, and sure enough, the glint of excitement is only too visible in his eyes as he moves past her to examine the small scrap of parchment trapped under the flask. "One sip to be a true Gryffindor, two to act the fool."

"What the fuck?"

"I know." He glances up, mock disappointed. "It doesn't even rhyme."

"Shut up. Give it here." She takes the message from him, scans it once, twice, thrice. "What the fuck."

"You already said that."

"I know, but—HEY! What are you doing?!"

His hands halt momentarily, the stopper caught between his fingers enough of an evidence to suggest that he's truly the biggest idiot she knows.

"What?" James shrugs. "You read the note. One sip to be a true Gryffindor."

Lily feels her jaw scrape against the stone floors.

"You're kidding me, right? Please tell me you're kidding, James, because you cannot be saying that you're going to drink an unknown and frankly ominous potion that's been left on our desk by an equally unknown person in a magical castle because some cryptic piece of parchment told you it'll prove that you're 'a true Gryffindor'!"

His eyebrows have arched high, surprise etched over his expression at her outburst, and she thinks she's made him realize how utterly mental he's being, but then—the fucking git chuckles. "Relax, Evans. What's the worst that could happen?"

She flaps her arms, looks around wildly, wondering why no one is barging into the room to help her stop him. "You could DIE, for one!"

James scoffs. "It's not poison."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Doesn't smell like it. I sniffed."

"You—Merlin—what—"

"Here." And then he's gently pushing the vial under her nose, forcing the fragrance into her senses. She wants to tell him that the fumes themselves might be dangerous to inhale, but once the notes settle in—sweet, fruity, relaxing—Lily has to admit that if it is indeed poison, it's incredibly well hidden. She doesn't know anyone talented enough in Potions and brewing to be able to pull off something so complicated, save for Slughorn himself and maybe… Severus. "Well?"

Stomach curdling, she frowns. It's a bit of a stretch to think that Snape would go as far as to actually kill James, but seriously hurting him is a possibility that sits firmly on the table. "What if it was… some Slytherin? What if they were trying to hurt us?"

Thankfully, he seems to consider the question instead of immediately laughing it off, and she clocks the exact moment when his train of thought aligns with hers. He looks at her, then, the light in his eyes too knowing, but what he eventually says is, "It's too much of a gamble, and doesn't seem like their style besides."

"Their style?"

"Sure." He nods, perfectly unruffled by her incredulity. "This feels like a silly, fun prank at worst."

Lily bites her lip. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Well, of course, it isn't!" James grins. "That's what makes it fun."

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days with that attitude, Potter."

"Here, hang on." He's suddenly thrusting the vial into her confused fingers, strolling off towards the bookcase lined along the east wall of the room. As she looks on, he pulls out a large tome whose title she can't quite spot because of the angle and that inconvenient height of his.

"What're you—"

"Got it!" he says, and then snaps the book shut before returning to her side. In a beat, he's got his wand out and aimed at the potion in her hand. "Verdimillious Venenum."

Lily cocked a brow, staring at the utterly unchanged potion. "Okay…?"

"It's not poisonous," James declares, pocketing his wand smugly. "That spell would've made the potion glow green if it was."

"Oh." She blinks, something unspooling in her chest, making her feel strangely flustered. "And you just randomly remembered that… because you've read books… about such information. Outside of assigned classroom readings."

Merlin, whatever happened to fully formed sentences?

James smirks. "Obviously. Are you properly impressed?"

Crap, the blasted blushing has made a return. "You know what?" Lily says, returning the vial to him. "Maybe you should go ahead and drink this. Might put me out of my misery."

"Now, Evans, let's not pretend. We both know you'll be the first one rushing me to the hospital wing if something goes wrong."

She wants to roll her eyes, wants to call him an annoying prick, but before she can so much as bring the words to her tongue, James tilts the potion back into his mouth, swallowing down nearly half of it. Almost instantly, and despite the fact that he's already gone and checked for poison in the drink, Lily feels like her fears shoot up exponentially. What if it was an advanced piece of magic? What if the lethality was carefully masked? What if, right this instant, he's slowly being killed before her eyes?

"Oh, fucking hell," she mutters, reaching out and twisting him by the arm so that he'll face her. "You actually drank it, you bloody idiot!"

"I did." Hazel eyes fall on the fingers wrapped around his arm, but she can't even bring herself to care about the surprise in his gaze, too busy looking for signs of distress on his face.

"Well?! How do you feel?"

His lips bunch to one side, expression turning contemplative. "Alright, I think. It's not yet taken effect, probably. It's a bit—"

Quite abruptly, his voice cuts off, eyes widening, lips parting as he swallows loudly. She feels her heart bang against her ribcage at the way his eyebrows stitch together. "What?" She sounds breathless. "Oh god, oh god, what's the matter?"

"Just—" And here, like an excerpt from a nightmare she didn't even know she'd ever had, James wraps a hand around his throat, rubbing uncomfortably. "Feeling a little hot. The air suddenly feels… stuffier, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't." Lily clutches at her braid, can't help the panic rising in her voice. "Shit, fuck, I told you not to—fuck, fuck, okay you're coming with me to Pomfrey right away—"

But he's leaning against the desk now, pulling at the collar of his robes roughly. "Merlin, can't—breathe—"

Her fingers have turned clammy with cold sweat.

"Fuck! James—you—"

A terrifying beat passes. His hand drops from his neck, reaches out to curl around her shoulder. And then, for some absolutely nonsensical reason, he begins laughing. Lily's eyes rush to his face, widening at the mixture of amusement and contrition there. It's a very strange and confusing combination against the setting of his flushed cheeks.

"Oh, bugger. Evans," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I was just messing with you! Shit, it's okay, I feel perfectly fine, don't worry!"

Lily takes a second to blink, to pull in breath into her lungs again; another to let her mouth drop open; a third to feel embarrassment stain her face dark red. And then, with next to no thought required, she pulls her hand back and smacks his stupidly firm chest. Hard.

"Ow!"

"You—fucking—prick!" Another smack. Fuck, is he made of stone? "That was not—bloody funny!"

"Alright, alright!" He grabs hold of her flailing wrists. "Stop hitting me. I'm sorry, okay? Merlin. In my defence, I didn't think you'd take me quite so seriously."

She glares heatedly at him, annoyed at the jump of her pulse under his fingertips. God, she hates the bastard. "I sincerely hope the potion tasted bitter as all hell on the way down your lying tongue."

His lips twitch. "It didn't."

"Well, then I hope it at least turns your skin purple or gives you horns, or something!"

"To be honest, it's actually sort of nice. Like swallowing warm honey, you know?"

She makes a disgruntled face and shoves off from him. Really, where's the justice in this world? "Fuck off."

But James seems unperturbed by her vitriol, and when he extends the vial to her again, his gaze is almost fond. "Here."

Lily looks down at the remaining portion warily. "What?"

"Well, it's your turn, isn't it?"

Oh, he's fucking joking.

"Excuse me?" She gapes, disbelieving. "What in Merlin's name could possibly make you think that I'll be drinking that as well?"

He tilts his head. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Yes," she huffs, half-tempted to laugh at his logic. "But I don't need to follow what a random piece of parchment says to know that about myself."

"Sure, but what's stopping you from a little exciting challenge?"

"Oh, let's see, I don't know, common sense?"

But he smirks, looks at her as if he's in on some dark secret of hers. "I think it's fear."

"Really, Potter—"

"I dare you to drink if you're not scared, Evans."

That stops her short, skin bristling at the taunt to her pride. Lily narrows her eyes, snatches the vial from his fingers in a quick motion. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Doesn't matter as long as it's working."

She considers, fleetingly, splashing the potion in his grinning face. "Why are you so insistent on me drinking this anyway?" She peers down at her hand. "This better not be some elaborate prank of yours to get me to take it and then humiliate me in front of everyone."

James gasps, but despite the dramatics, she thinks she spies something like genuine hurt flicker in his eyes, there and gone in a single breath. "I wouldn't try to humiliate you! I took a sip myself. It's just—I just thought… well, it'd be nice to have some company, wouldn't it?"

It takes concerted effort to not let the frown between her brows smooth out at his words. It won't do to let him know the effect his quietly voiced sentiments have on her; the strange flutter of her stomach when she recalls how he'd jokingly told her, earlier, that she wasn't too bad of a company. Perhaps, the thought of having an experience only the two of them could share begrudgingly thrills him just as much as it does her.

Lily glances at him, sees the hopeful smile on his mouth, and thinks: maybe not begrudgingly.

"You don't have to, you know," James says after another second of silence, "I know I said it's a dare and all, but I get that it's a bit too reckless—"

"Oh, shut the hell up, Potter." And before he has the chance to give literally any kind of reaction, she tosses the liquid back down her throat. Much like James's description and the smell it emanates, the potion tastes sweet on her tongue, warm and pleasant and utterly unlike poison. Still, once she's done with her sip, she pulls it away to say, "If I die because of you—"

"I wouldn't know." He grins. "On account of having died first."

She shakes her head, gathering her books from where she'd set them on the desk earlier in the evening. "Merlin, I can't believe I let you rope me into this."

"Honestly? Me neither." James admits, following her out of the office. "So, how do you feel?"

Lily takes a moment to conduct a rapid self-assessment. "Perfectly fine, actually. In fact—" she hums, "I feel good. It's this—"

"Buzz of energy in your blood?"

She glances at him, surprised. "Exactly."

He smiles brightly, and she quickly looks away again. "Maybe that was it, you know. A challenge to get us to prove our courage and bravery. No bad consequences."

"Pretty anticlimactic, then. And how do you think that even worked? Someone was spying on us as we argued over whether to drink it?"

"If they were, then I clearly came out as the truer Gryffindor."

"The truer idiot, more like."

He scoffs loudly as she chuckles under her breath. Shifting the books in her arms, Lily peers up at him curiously, trying not to linger too long on the way the candlelight spilling along the corridors illuminate the sharp features of his face. "And… you're still feeling alright too?"

"Yeah." James nods, and then, after a short pause, reaches up to pat around the mess of his hair. "No horns yet either."

"Ha ha. You kill me, Potter."

He laughs. "Only returning the favour, then."

Merlin, she shouldn't be blushing at that throwaway statement, she shouldn't.

Mercifully enough, the Gryffindor portrait hole soon comes into view, and she's not required to formulate a response to his cheek. "Finally. I feel exhausted. Bulbadox."

The Fat Lady clicks her tongue. "I could do with a greeting once in a while, you know."

"Sorry," Lily winces, stepping inside. "Goodnight."

James's snickers follow her all the way to the bottom of the girls' staircase. "Only you'd sincerely apologise to a portrait for not greeting her right, Evans."

She turns to him, sighing exasperatedly. "Then everyone else had better improve their manners, I reckon."

His mouth, already tilted open in anticipation of throwing her some—undoubtedly amusing—comeback, suddenly snaps shut when his eyes land on hers. Lily watches, more than a little confused, as a range of emotions flash over his face in quick succession, only to ultimately freeze on an expression that makes him look like he's going to be sick. The press of his lips is tight enough to turn them white.

"Funny," she says flatly, "but that's not going to work twice on me."

Despite the words, however, discomfort still runs thickly under her skin, the panic in his eyes a bit too real to be pretend.

"Yeah," James manages, sounding choked, as if it takes monumental effort to simply get the single syllable out. And then, face twisting in inexplicable agony, he whirls on his feet and practically flies up the boys' staircase, taking them two at a time. "Bye, Evans!"

She stands there, staring at the empty spot before her.

"What the hell?"

A/N - This will most likely be a three-parter. Come say hi on Tumblr at maraudersftw