Drink Me

3. To Be A Fool

There's no oxygen in her lungs.

Lily tries to pull in a breath to fix the problem, but her chest seems to squeeze around nothingness, tight to the point of pain, throat compressing until she can do nothing but choke out a dying sort of sound. "What?"

James swallows, no longer looking sick with stress, though the red staining his cheeks has only deepened with the ticking seconds. A prolonged blink, a hardening of the jaw, and then he squares his shoulders.

"I love you," he repeats, and she has to clutch onto the front of her robes with her free hand, the swooping sensation passing through her stomach not entirely new in feeling but certainly new in its alarming intensity. "I just… I had to say it, Lily."

It's more than just her name, uttered so helplessly, so wretchedly, that gives her pause; it is the way he's said it. The tone leaves no doubt in her mind that what she'd suspected earlier was right, at least on James's part, because his anguish paints the truth quite starkly in the open: he doesn't want to say this. He doesn't want to feel this. He's embarrassed by what the potion is making him do. And that can only mean the sentiments aren't true, but rather forced out by whatever cruel, intricate magic they'd chugged last night.

All in a moment, the flustered haze fades, the feeling in her stomach turns into something uglier—something thick and sludge-like. Disappointment, she realizes. And then: Sadness.

"No, right." She nods, wincing a little at the hoarseness of her own voice. "It's—it's okay. You don't have to sound so miserable about it." A weak chuckle. "I get it. We're both just acting like this because of the—anyway. Bet you feel stupid about not listening to me before, huh?"

In the terse silence that follows, he's suddenly turned still as a statue, blinking slowly. "What?"

Lily looks down at the book still clutched in her right hand to break that gaze, neck heating unpleasantly. "I've been reading for a bit. Trying to search for antidotes to the potion—"

"Right. That's what I came here for, too."

She hums in acknowledgement, even though the information only adds to the heaviness in her limbs. "Most of these take a while to brew. But—" she shrugs, moves to place the tome back onto the shelf. "The effects for love potions weaker than Amortentia are not expected to last for over forty-eight hours, in most cases. And what we drank feels like a weak imitation at best, since we still have our wits about us. I suspect if we leave it be for maybe another day, then it'll disappear—"

"Love potion?!"

She whirls at the pitch of his voice, a frown creasing between her brows as she notices James gaping at the row of books beside her head. He looks almost stunned, more than a little surprised by her blabbering as if what she's said is news to him. But that can't really be, she knows. It can't, because he's—because they've already—

"Yes…" Lily says slowly, waits for him to glance at her again. "Isn't that what—you said you came here looking for an antidote, too!"

"To the potion, yeah." He runs a hand through his hair, visibly flustered. The moment stretches on, his eyes pinned on her unwaveringly even as his arm drops back to his side. She's tempted to shake him by the shoulders and demand an explanation for the rush of expressions taking over his face when James says, "Love potion. Right. Of course, that's what you think it was. It's not—" Something flashes in the hazel of his eyes. "Whatever you said, earlier, was not actually—that is, you weren't… serious. Were you?"

She shifts from one foot to the other, bizarrely out of breath, unable to respond head-on. "You weren't either, right?"

Obviously, he wasn't serious, Lily thinks. Obviously, he's not in love with her.

She feels her entire face redden with embarrassment now, sure that her voice was stupidly evident in its patheticness around the question. She's almost tempted to pull the words back, but James lets out a humourless sort of huff of laughter, rubs at the back of his neck, and she pauses, uncertainty stirring.

"It'll wear off, yeah?" he asks, which is not at all a response to her question.

"I… I think so."

He nods, levels a strange smile at her, and then turns around. "I'll see you around, Evans."

Of all the ways possible, it hits her because of Severus Snape.

It's just as she's leaving the library, long after James's departure, topped with a good few hours spent agonizing over every little detail of her conversation with him, that the familiar, frantic call of her name reaches her ears.

"Lily, wait!"

She spins around, of course—her muscles just a bit too quick to react before her brain can catch up and prevent them with sense—and barely manages to hold in a groan at the sight of him. Predictably alone, as he always is when accosting her.

"Goodbye, Severus."

But there's a wild sort of look in his eyes today, one that sits quite in contrast with the disdainful, bored facade he usually walks around with. Before Lily has even finished turning fully to walk away, he's there, clamping a cold hand around her arm and tugging her away from the middle of the corridor.

She hisses through her teeth, snatches her arm back violently. "Get off me, what the fuck!"

"Lily," he tries again, hands raised in a gesture that is meant to be calming. Her scowl does not relent. "Please, just listen to me. I'm sorry for dragging you here, but—"

"No." She makes to dodge past him. "I don't care. I've heard enough from you over the years, and I just—I don't care, Sev."

"Potter's finally done it, hasn't he?!"

Her feet halt, a strange something slithering up her spine; cold, unpleasant, wary. Better sense dictates that she ignore his jibes and walk away, that attacks against James are a thing of habit for Snape, a warped sort of normalcy for him, even. But something about that tone, knowing and disgusted, has her turning around reluctantly.

"Care to be non-cryptic?"

"He's slipped you a love potion," says Snape, fairly spitting out the words. Lily watches his chest heave with some twisted mixture of anger and triumph, feeling her own breath freeze in her lungs. "I always knew he'd resort to such methods. He's obsessed with you! And now he's finally shown the lengths he'll go to to get what he wants, hasn't he?"

She clenches her hands into fists, tries to keep her voice even.

"You've lost your mind. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie, Lily! Is that an effect of the potion, too?" He takes two daring steps forward, and she refuses to step back, refuses to give him an inch. "I heard you both, earlier near the potions section. You know what he's done—"

"What?" She asks, horror pulling at her mouth. "Merlin, what—were you eavesdropping on us?!"

"You're not listening to me!" He shakes his head, expression scrunching like she's the one being unreasonable. Lily realizes, with an unsettling kind of calm, that this erasure of his own faults doesn't surprise her the slightest bit anymore. "It's a spell, Lily. You're not thinking straight right now, but I'll help you. I can brew you an antidote, and we can report him to Slughorn, and once the effect wears off you'll see—"

"No," she snarls. "What you need to see is that this is none of your fucking business, Severus."

Dark eyes stare back at her in silence, and Lily thinks he'll storm off in fury, having lost his leverage. But something hardens in that gaze, and before she can prepare for it, she finds her wrist suddenly caught under his cold grip.

"I'm not letting this happen," sneers Snape. "I'm not going to let him manipulate you like this. Come with me now—"

And that's when it happens; the bursting of the dam—a feeling comparable to what she'd experienced in the library with James earlier, but decidedly darker, angrier, crueller in nature this time around.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She snaps, shoving him away and drawing her wand from within her robes in one quick motion. At the sight of this resistance, Snape's face rearranges into his usual veneer of cold indifference; the transformation drastic enough to send a chill down her spine, if she weren't accustomed to such a display by now. "Go back to your common room, and don't you dare meddle into my life anymore. You have lost the right to it years ago. I should have never let you have it, to begin with. And—" Here, she marches forward, pulse throbbing at her neck furiously, "Leave James alone, Severus."

"And what if I refuse?" he smirks, the action twisting his features into something truly spiteful and ugly. "I'm looking out for you! I know you're not going to hurt me, Lily."

"No?" she says, cocks a brow. "Brachiabindo."

Instantly, Snape's limbs slam against his sides rigidly, invisible cords holding him in place against the alcove wall, bathing him in the twilight shadows. He grunts his frustration under his breath, immovable at wand-point, and levels a menacing glare at her.

"Think again," Lily says, feeling a heady rush of daring spurring her on. "I'm not scared to fight you. I haven't been for a while, you know. I've been preparing for it, because I know it's bound to happen sooner or later. The choices you've made have led us there, Sev. And I'm not the bright-eyed little girl from Cokeworth who you can fool with your pretentious friendship anymore. I've made my choice, too. And if I have to hurt you, or people like you, who want me dead to realize those choices…" She holds his gaze, makes sure he hears the unwavering conviction in her voice, "I will hurt you a thousand times over without remorse."

The arrogance that had been residing over his face previously gives way to reveal something that looks a lot like envy and repulsion fused into one emotion.

"What has Potter done to you?"

To this, the response falls off her tongue as easily as her own name: "He's given me courage. And hope that there are people like him in this world who will fight next to me on the right side of the war."

"You're living in a dream world, then," he says, and sounds pitying, almost. "He only cares about one thing. And that's getting into your knick—"

"Petrificus Totalus," Lily hisses, and whirls away from the figure that topples to the floor. "Let's see how many of your mates care enough to get you out of here before the spell releases."

It's only after she has exited the corridor that she recognizes the feeling coursing through her veins and buzzing at the tip of her fingers: not compulsion, not obsession, not madness.

Bravery.

"It's not a love potion."

Mary looks up from the record player she'd been tinkering with as Lily drops onto the couch next to her, appearing as if caught in a daze. Around the pair, the common room sits relatively quiet, with only a few occupants lazing about their chosen corners or attending to their assignments for the last day of the week.

"Really?" Inquires Mary presently, clearly trying not to appear too curious or delighted. "Did you figure out what it is, then?"

Lily manages something between a hum and a choked-out grunt.

"Good. At least all those hours in the library paid off, didn't they?" She sets aside the player to give the conversation her undivided attention. "Well, then? Was I right?"

"No." Lily swallows. "It's not a realization potion, either. It's…"

Mary arches her brows. "Go on, then."

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's something to do with being brave. I've been trying to put it together, and it makes sense—that note we found said drinking the potion would make us true Gryffindors, and bravery is the house's main trait, is it not?"

"I suppose so…" Mary mulls it over, mouth slanting in doubt, still. "But it doesn't really make sense why a bravery-inducing drink would make Potter act like a lunatic terrified for his life, or why it would make you say things like—" a gasp; eyes widening; grin spreading, "Ohhhh, I see it now."

"It's just a theory," Lily mumbles, face flaming in mortification. "But I guess, I may not have been entirely truthful to myself about how… I've been feeling. Perhaps."

Mary's smile softens at that, her hand reaching forward to wrap around Lily's fingers comfortingly, squeezing once. "It's not too late."

"I, um—" Lily bites her lip. "I sort of told him I liked him."

"WHAT?!" she screeches, "Told whom? Potter?"

"Yes, can you lower your voice, please? Merlin." She looks around frantically, releasing a relieved breath when it appears that no one has been paying them any attention. Returning her focus to Mary reveals that her friend has quite possibly frozen to the spot in shock. "Stop staring at me like that, would you? I couldn't help it. It just… poured out of me like I was some overflowing cauldron. It was terrifically embarrassing."

Narrating the incident unfortunately brings the horror that had clung to her senses when her mouth had run off on its own to the forefront of her mind. If she's right about the theory, however, at least the disappointment that had followed has no reason to persist; never had a reason to exist, in the first place.

Because if she's being honest with herself—and really, Lily finds it increasingly difficult to do otherwise—she can now admit that it has been the fear of reading him wrong, of ruining what they have built, that has kept her from voicing what she knows.

She has a big fucking crush on James Potter.

"And?" Mary pokes her side, and Lily jumps in surprise, pulled back into the moment. The skin around her ears and neck feel awkwardly hot. "What did he say?"

"He said…" I'm in love with you. "He, uh…"

She swallows, blushes a little darker, and then something—someone—catches her eye across the room, arresting the words trying to climb up her throat. "Sorry, love. I just—I need to talk to someone."

"What?" cries Mary, outraged. "Right this fucking second, Evans?"

"Sorry, I'll catch you later upstairs," Lily mumbles again, already out of her seat.

"Oh, fine!"

She throws a smile at Mary as the girl gathers up her things to head to their dorm, and then makes her way to the figure sitting near one of the large common room windows. Sensing her arrival, Remus looks up from the book splayed over his lap, all pretences of reading abandoned. "I need your help."

"Hi, Lily," he greets, face carefully blank, eyebrows arching only slightly. "Sit. What's the matter?"

"I'll tell you, but only if we can stop pretending like you lot don't know anything. Please?"

He remains immovable for a few moments, and she thinks she'll have to resort to begging—or worse, rehash the whole sordid tale to him herself—when Remus finally cracks, eyes rolling and shoulders sagging in exasperation. "I knew this was going to happen."

"Of course, you did." Lily takes the chair opposite him and leans forward. "You're not as brilliant at acting as you think, you know."

Okay, that was a lie.

"Go on, then. What is it?"

"That depends. How much do you know, exactly?"

Remus looks down, scratches the fringe of his mousy-brown hair. "Probably enough."

"Did James tell you…" She bites the inside of her cheek, and then whooshes out the words on a breath, "About what happened in the library?"

"He told us that you ran into each other. And that you seem to think it's a love potion. But—" his eyes gleam here, body leaning forward to mirror her interest. "Now that you bring it up again, he did seem unsettled about it; more than he's been the whole day, I mean. Something you want to tell me, Lily?"

"I don't—I don't think it's a love potion. Not anymore."

"Oh?" Remus's thumb swipes at his chin, fingers coming to rest atop his mouth. "What do you think, then?"

"I ran into Snape on my way back from the library. And there are things I said, things I did, that I've thought about saying and doing before, but something has always held me back." She plays with the end of her braid to keep her hands busy. "I suppose it was the fear of finally letting go, or of hurting him intentionally. I don't know. But I did it today. And…"

"Yes?"

"And I—" Her voice halts, something about the way his gaze jumps around her head, about how the curiosity on his face looks a little too perfect, like an emotion manufactured for this very conversation, raising her suspicion. Eyes narrowing, Lily points an accusatory finger at his deceptively innocent sweatered-chest. "You know. James told you what he said to me! Didn't he?"

As if in exact replication of a few minutes ago, his mask seems to give way under her stare after a beat. "For Merlin's sake! You know me too well. I told Padfoot this wouldn't work, but no, of course, no one ever wants to listen to me! I'm only here to clean up the aftermath of the damage already done—"

"What the fuck, Moony?!"

Lily lets out a muffled squeak of surprise at the sudden voice behind her, and a quick twist of her torso reveals Sirius Black's displeased countenance glaring venomously at Remus, Peter standing close behind him with considerably less drama on his face. "We were so fucking close! You folded like a pack of cheap cards."

"How the hell did you get here?! Could you hear everything I was saying?"

"Staircase. And yes," Sirius answers shortly, no further elaboration provided to Lily's shock.

"What—"

"She saw right through me, okay?" Remus huffs, and now, when his eyes land on her again, he looks contrite. "Plus, I think she's figured out what the potion does anyway. I see no point in keeping this up."

Lily blinks.

Feels her lips part. Feels her fingertips dig into the cushion of her chair.

"Hang on. Hang on, hang on." She looks up, glances rapidly from one face to another, finds her tongue unable to formulate sentences. "You—the potion—keeping this up—so you know what it does, and—" A gasp tears up her throat, eyes widening with furious realization. "It was you—"

"Yes, Evans. Please don't pop a vein." Sirius pinches his lips, still frowning at Remus. "Look at what you've done. Now she's going to hex our bollocks off."

Lily has to at least hand it to the man: he can predict well.

"We're sorry, Lily," Peter mumbles, looking a little pink-cheeked as he steps around Sirius and offers her what she guesses is a half-terrified, half-hopeful smile. "It was just getting painful watching the two of you dance around each other."

"Damn right, Wormtail." Sirius claps him on the back firmly. "Not to mention Prongs was whining our ears off about how you just barely tolerate him, when it's blatantly obvious to the entire bloody castle that you keep eye-fucking each other until the rest of us are really uncomfortable—"

Remus clears his throat loudly, mercifully putting an end to that spiel and preventing Lily's face from turning to ash at their feet.

"I'm...um—we don't—"

"It's alright, Lil," Remus chuckles fondly, "We deal with James on a daily basis. It's much worse there, trust us."

She breathes deeply, forces her skin to cool down to a tolerable level. "So you brewed that potion? What was it exactly?"

"You tell us," Remus smirks.

"My guess is that it allows the drinker to admit things they otherwise would not." She squints at nothing. "So, like, a bravery-inducing potion?"

"Courage Concoction, actually. Took us a week to finish it," Sirius supplies, a pleased grin flashing momentarily over the sharp lines of his face. "And you're close. It only makes you brave enough to say the things you actually want to say. So it wouldn't reveal all your deepest darkest thoughts, unfortunately; simply the strong ones you hold back out of fear."

Three sets of eyes pin on her post his explanation, and Lily tries to sink inside and become one with the chair to hide from the meaningful light shining in their stares.

"Oh," she says lamely, pulse pounding at her neck. "That's sort of brilliant, actually."

"I discovered it," says Peter, his smile proud. "We figured you just needed the right push."

"Right. And um—does James—did he know about this?"

Sirius snorts, incredulous. "What, are you mental? He'd kill us if he found out."

"Also he'd never have believed us if we'd told him it'd work," Peter shrugs, "So we just had to target his idiotic Gryffindor side."

"The note." She nods absent-mindedly. "What was that, about the second sip making you look like a fool?"

"Exactly what it said," Remus laughs. "Taking too much of the potion would have had you blabbering everything in your head, and James does enough of that without requiring help from magic."

Lily inclines her head, fighting off the smile pulling at her lips at their simple, yet effective logic. That boy was really too predictable sometimes, a trait that stood highly at contrast with his dominantly impulsive, spontaneous side.

"Actually, we were hoping you'd tell him for us."

"What?" She squawks, pulled out of her head at Remus's words. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we just think it'll go over well if he finds out about our plan after the outcome plays out in his favour," Sirius says, and then proceeds to smirk insufferably, "Which we have no doubt it will."

A strange, thick mixture of terror and anticipation slides down Lily's limbs at Sirius's suggestion; the thought of confronting James about everything—about what she'd said, what he'd said, about why they had said all that maddening stuff at all—making her blanch with pressure.

"It's run out, hasn't it?" She squeaks, voice low. "The effects of the potion?"

"Twenty-four hours." Peter nods, watching her warily.

"Right. Well, I can't do this right now," her voice sounds panicked even to her own ears, and she pushes off from the armchair, back peddling towards the portrait hole. "I'm sorry, I—I need to think about all of this."

"Where are you going?" Sirius frowns, displeasure evident on his features. "It's after curfew."

Lily shakes her head. "I'm Head Girl."

For all her outwardly displayed confidence, she knows it's not her day to patrol the castle, and roaming about aimlessly in the corridors without any evident duties will garner suspicion, Head Girl or not.

And so, after she narrowly escapes running into Professor Flitwick outside his office on the seventh floor, Lily rushes to the only place in Hogwarts other than the Gryffindor common room where her presence will not be questioned: The Heads Office.

Of course, somewhere inside the recesses of her mind, she's aware the space is not hers alone, never has been by virtue of the type of job she holds and the shared responsibilities—and perks—it entails. Perhaps that's the reason why, when she provides the password and enters the room, only to see it already occupied by the one other person who could possibly occupy it, she finds herself only mildly surprised.

More of an Oh! Didn't expect to see him here at this hour rather than the Oh my fucking GOD, now I have to talk to him! that she'd expected.

Still, her heart unfailingly thumps somewhere at the base of her throat when James looks up at the sound of her entrance, the scratch of his quill on parchment halting.

"Oh. Hey," he says, voice a little hoarse. She's devastated to note that his tie hangs loose around the collar of his shirt, hair mussed more so than usual. The fire in the hearth burns low, casting the right side of his face in a sleepy, yellow-orange glow. "Um—I was just…finishing up some homework. The common room was too noisy."

"Noisy, yes," Lily mutters, feeling strangely out of breath at his poor lie.

She wonders if he's been trying to avoid her as well, then, and what that means for the conversation they need to inevitably have.

I'm in love with you.

"Can we talk?"

James sighs, places down his quill silently, and looks at her with a pained expression. "Suppose we must, don't we?"

She clenches her fingers into fists behind her back. "I spoke to the boys."

His lips part at that, a deep breath expanding his lungs. "Okay. What did they say?"

"Doesn't matter," Lily shakes her head, walks closer to the desk. "What matters is what you said. At the library. Did you mean it?"

Hazel eyes flit over her face, cheeks staining light pink, and after a few seconds of tense silence, James stands, his brows creasing. "Lily, I just—"

"Because I did," she says, voice firm despite the thundering taking place behind her ribcage. "I meant what I said. The delivery of it may not have been the best, or the cleanest, but…I don't regret any of it."

"Really?" James mutters, a hand running over the back of his neck. "Because that's not exactly the feeling I got from you in the library."

"I wasn't sure what was happening back then."

"And you are now?"

"Yes," she whispers, trying to catch his eye. "At least I think so."

"Please enlighten me then, because I'm mighty fucking confused here," he groans, tugging at his hair roughly.

"It wasn't a love potion—" Lily starts.

He huffs out a humourless breath of laughter. "No, I didn't think it was."

"It was Courage Concoction," she says, lips twitching at the recollection of the name. "It, um—well, the name's pretty self-explanatory, but it gives the drinker the courage to say things…" her eyes flit away, neck warming, "they might otherwise be scared to admit out loud."

A log in the fireplace crackles softly, filling up the ensuing silence that befalls the room.

"Oh," James manages eventually, voice soft enough to send the hairs on her arms rising unreasonably. "Yeah, alright, that makes sense."

Lily chances a glance at him, finds him staring back at her with a dumbfounded expression. It makes her smile. "Yeah."

"So…" He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, makes his way around the desk in a stroll that Lily would consider casual if not for its deliberate slowness. She feels her lungs struggle to pull in air. "How did you figure all of this out anyway?"

"We have your mates to thank for that."

"What?" His steps pause, confusion pulling his brows together. "What do you mean? They didn't tell me anything."

"They wouldn't." She rolls her eyes, almost fond. "On account of the fact that they want to live, and telling you that they're the ones who brewed the potion to get us to, well, talk to each other would make that somewhat difficult."

He gapes at her, standing all but an arm's length away now, and she can clearly make out the way thoughts whir behind those stupidly pretty eyes of his. "What the fuck," he whispers under his breath, and Lily has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "That's really bloody manipulative!"

"I know."

He looks at her, and as if stunned by her presence in the room, his face splits into a disbelieving grin. "And also sort of brilliant."

"I know, that's what I said!" She beams back. "You're still going to hex them though, right?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Good," she says, and inwardly congratulates herself on how even her voice sounds despite the hammering that has resumed inside her chest. "Later though, I hope. We still haven't finished talking."

"No, we haven't," James agrees, voice low as he takes another step forward, effectively eliminating the space between them. "Lily. What I told you back at the library, I don't—I don't want you to freak out about it, alright?"

She pulls her eyes away from where they'd latched onto the third button of his shirt and looks up, strangely pleased to notice that she's not the only one with burning cheeks.

"I mean, I said some freaky stuff, too, Potter."

He laughs almost helplessly. "It's different."

It is, she knows. But—

"It doesn't freak me out," says Lily, holding his stare so that he'll know she means it. "I'm—I mean, it's not as if this whole liking you business is entirely new to me, yeah?"

He finds this surprising. "It's not?"

"Are you kidding?" She shoves his shoulder playfully, heart trilling when his hand wraps around her fingers the very next second, holding it between their bodies. "James, I've pretty much fancied you at least since the end of sixth year, alright? It's turned problematically massive."

"Massive?" His brow cocks, lips slanting into a smirk.

"Oh Merlin, check that ego," she laughs. "You're really bloody annoying, you know that?"

"Lily…" The fingers of his free hand stroke against the braid slung over her shoulder. "Can I kiss you?"

Something swoops dangerously in her stomach, the grin on her face wide enough to hurt her cheeks. "Yes."

"Okay. Thank you," he says, chuckling shyly when she laughs again. "Fuck off, this is big, okay?"

"I'm not saying anything." She tilts her face up, anticipation tingling down her spine as his breath fans over her lips. Sweet, minty. "And you're welcome."

His thumb brushes gently against her jawline. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"Okay."

"I'm—"

"Hey," Lily whispers, eyes falling closed, fingers twisting into his shirt, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. "One kiss to be a true Gryffindor."

She tastes his smile as her lips brush over his, feels the erratic beat beneath his chest when their intertwined fingers come to rest atop his sternum. He's warm—so fucking warm—and Lily finds it impossible to reign in the sigh of pleasure she breathes into him. James drags her even closer, mouth never leaving hers even as his hand cups her cheek, plays with her hair, slides down the side of her body and around her waist in maddeningly smooth movements.

He drives her fucking spare, she thinks, tilting her head, changing the angle. Maybe she loves him, too, just a little bit, she considers, sliding her tongue over his, feeling her toes curl inside her shoes like she's being kissed the very first time.

And it would make sense, she ultimately decides, leaning back against the desk and allowing James to cage her in against the furniture.

Because they've certainly kissed more than twice. And there's no bigger fool than the one in love.

A/N - Thank you so much for reading, lovely souls! Come say hi on tumblr at maraudersftw