Still February 24th, 1977

It was the same dream as always. Truthfully, it was more on the nightmare end of the spectrum, but Dorcas Meadowes had a tendency to downplay the symbols in her life. It made things easier to process and cope with on a daily basis. But, that didn't make anything less disturbing.

She dreamt of her mother burning in the fiery pitts of Hell. Or, she had to assume it was Hell with the dungeon theme and the rancid smell. For some reason, Dorcas is still surprised in her dream. She would try to run to her mother each time. And each time she woke up, she immediately regretted falling asleep.

These dreams made her walk as if she were a reverent. She'd stagger through the halls, trying her hardest not to bump into fellow students. Now try imagine to suffer through a class. It was nearly impossible not to pass out, which she had done twice now (once in Potions and once in Transfiguration).

The added-stress and noise of telepathy made hours of wake grim. The voices never shut-up, causing Dorcas to feel out of control like she did back in her fourth year. It was like she was constantly on high-alert. The wall re-construction was moving slowly, and even though Dumbledore advised her to take her time, it was all easier said than done.

Her mentor also informed her that occulemency was nothing like ligilmency. He considered ligilmency as a form of connection, while occulemency was a form of solitude. It made absolutely no sense to Dorcas, and she would have to wait and find out with her new teacher. She'd meet him next Tuesday for a light supper with Dumbledore in his office. With her wall down, she was unable to stop herself from entering the Headmaster's mind. Luckily, Professor Dumbledore was one of the most apt Occulmens she had known. She was met with blurred images and natural silence. It reminded her of the ocean. Why couldn't more people be like this?

So, one could understand how Dorcas Meadowes was preoccupied in her thoughts (some of them not her own). So, it was fair that Dorcas wasn't really paying attention to where she was walking. She didn't respond either when someone called out her first name. It took a physical pull to stop Dorcas from dragging her feet through the hall.

"Oy, Dorcas," a voice called out. An actual voice, not a thought inside someone's head.

Dorcas looked up and saw that Marlene McKinnon had prevented a possible concussion. "Oh, thanks, Marlene," she said in a daze. She examined the brick wall, wondering how it got there.

Marlene gave her an appraising look. "We need to get you some caffeine," she observed.

Dorcas shrugged. "That's probably true." She looked to Marlene and noticed the blond's rounder eyes. She always had big eyes, but Dorcas noticed the sly darting motion that never quite met her eye.

What if she already knows? Oh, she probably does. I mean, she's staring at me right now.

"What don't I know?" Dorcas asked.

Marlene's eyeballs nearly fell out of the socket. She composed herself quickly though. "That's extremely unnerving," she said.

"No point in hiding it now, aye?" Dorcas said. "Wanna go out to the courtyard for a smoke?"

"Sure…" Marlene never thought Dorcas Meadowes would actually be this calm in real life. Before she had truly met the Slytherin, Marlene assumed that she was hiding something behind that facade, or imitating that too-cool-for-school shite. Even thought it was true that she was hiding something - a ruddy huge something - Marlene still did not expect calmness to be a genuine trait. "So, you aren't you raving mad right now?" Marlene asked cautiously, following behind her slowly.

"No," Dorcas said as they turned towards the courtyard. "I haven't really had time, or patience, to think about it too deeply. So, no, I'm not upset with you, Marlene."

They took a bench under one of the large trees. Snow floated gently from the gray clouds. Marlene and Dorcas brushed the seat and sat beside one another. The darker-haired one was about to offer one, but Marlene beat her to it.

"They're from Amsterdam," Marlene winked.

"Hm," Dorcas mused before taking it. She nodded as thanks. She lit the cigarette with her own lighter and then passed it to Marlene to do the same. "Now, why do you want to talk to me about Apparation?"

"H-how do you know that?" Marlene stuttered. She patted her forehead. "How does this work?"

"I'm not getting into that. Spill."

Marlene made a face. She wasn't sure how to say it. But, then again, maybe she didn't have to outright. Would this be considered a warning?

Dorcas made a face now, blowing out the smoke too. "Warning for what?"

"So, everything I think right now, you can hear?" Marlene asked.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"It's like hearing my voice?"

"Exactly like hearing your voice."

Marlene bit her cheek. On a scale of one to ten, how good was Sirius Black in the closet? A test run.

"Eight."

Should I fuck him?

"If you really want to…?"

That's not weird to you?

"I have so much more going on right now. Like wondering why you want to try so hard not to think about Apparition."

Marlene scoffed as she took a drag. "That's impressive," she said, attempting nonchalance. She kept her face as neutral as possible, but she was a creature of emotion. It was too hard to hide her fear and uncertainty. She was easier to read than a children's book.

Dorcas read her crystal clear thoughts, not by choice of course: Look, Dorcas is reasonable… most of the time. At least with me, not Remus.

"Don't make me mad," Dorcas interrupted the chain of flow.

Sorry, Marlene thought awkwardly, staring at her cigarette. Now, I can't think about it. That's weird, aye?

The Slytherin took a deep breath, now tired of silence. Something she never thought was possible. She rested her hand on top of Marlene's simply and, for a moment, became Marlene McKinnon.

Everything in her current consciousness was now in Dorcas'. Her wall reconstruction covered enough to not penetrate further into Marlene's memories. She did re-experience her conversation with Sirius Black about gentlemanliness and social-shag contracts (weird.), her morning breakfast (buttered over-burnt toast.), her solo vocal practice in the Tower (outstanding.), and hanging out with Lily, Emmeline, and Mary.

Interesting.

Is she listening to me, or just invading the crap out of my psyche? Will she just know about the letter?

Marlene's mind shifted into the Gryffindor common room where the blonde regarded an envelope. It stuck out, and it only took Dorcas a millisecond to figure out why. The return address shocked her so much that she instantly pulled her hand away from Marlene's. She looked to Marlene helplessly, as if begging for her memories not to be true.

"You saw?" Marlene grimaced.

"You saw that letter?" Dorcas asked. "It's not a dream or something, right?"

Marlene shook her head, as he curls swayed along with her. Dorcas knew that was the honest truth. "Max's coming tomorrow, I'm meeting him."

Dorcas let out a long sigh. "If things weren't already shite…" She wasn't talking to Marlene, just the air.

"I'm so sorry, Dorcas," Marlene added, putting a hand on her shoulder gingerly. "I don't think you want to, but if you want to join us-"

"- To make things less awkward for the long run?" Dorcas finished for her friend. Marlene gasped, still shook by the accuracy of Dorcas' telepathic power. "Yeah, that's not possible."

Marlene only really knew Dorcas for the past two months or so, but she knew enough about the Slytherin to know that she was deeply uncomfortable right now. Dorcas looked as if she were still processing this information, or reading further into Marlene's mind. She began to sweat - a rarity in the winter.

"I'm going to go," Dorcas whispered after a long moment.

"Good choice."

Dorcas left without another word, moving away as fast as she could. She didn't even turn back when Marlene called out, "I'm here if you need me…" That being said, Marlene did get quieter as she finished her sentence. Marlene wondered if she should run after her.

She made the right move, because Dorcas wanted nothing more than to be alone. It wasn't the fact that she had to process that a former snog was about to be her Apparition Professor. Truthfully, that was not even on her mind right now. She was more preoccupied with the fact that her skin felt like fire. It felt like she was burning alive, so intensely that she sat herself by a tree. She slid her hands into the snow, but felt no cool relief. She slammed the back of her head against the bark, anything to ease the pain. However as long as she didn't yelp or scream, she'd be content. No one needed to be a part of her episode.

After a few minutes, hours, days, who really knew, the pain disappeared. It vanished as quickly as it had come. Dorcas sighed once she felt the cool breeze hit her face, relishing it.

Dumbledore mentioned that Voldemort would be after Dorcas. He made clear that it would not only be through physical attacks, but also mental. She wondered if this qualified, and would this incident be appropriate to report.

Dorcas' new professor should be able to explain. Then, she felt another pain beat against her chest. This one felt more like a tightening, and she had a feeling that this was going to vanish as instantly as the last attack. No, this was going to be drawn-out.

What were the chances that Hogwarts would be enrolling two new professors at the same time? Unlikely. Dorcas gulped at the thought of Max McKinnon not only teaching her in apparition, but also occulemency in private quarters.

Dorcas shook her head several times. "Impossible," she muttered, finally standing up from her spot in the cold. Dumbledore would never do something so irrational. He would never employ a professor who had previous relations (brief relations) with a student for obvious reasons.

Then, again did Dumbledore even know she and Max McKinnon had snagged? With any luck, she desperately hoped not.

"Good luck, Mate," chuckled Sirius Black. He was laying on his bed, skimming through his mail while James Potter shimmied on a pair of old torn jeans.

"Sod off," James grumbled without looking at him.

"What?" Sirius asked, confused. "I'm just trying to be a supportive friend."

"A supportive friend wouldn't have gotten the other in detention with a bird who wants to chomp off his head," James countered coolly as he slipped on a long-sleeved shirt, one that he used for odd jobs.

Sirius lifted his head and smirked, "Which head?"

James made a gagging noise. "Oh, c'mon now," he whined, "I'm trying to be decent with her, and I don't need you giving me anymore indecent ideas about her before I spend an evening dusting shelves with her."

"Okay, okay," Sirius said, resting his letters down. "One, you haven't wanted to be decent with Lily Evans since you were thirteen years old. Two, your sadomasochist subconscious has conjured up more than enough indecent ideas that you can't really be gobsmacked by the idea of a blowie. And three, I do not like to be whined at James Potter."

James rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend. Sirius couldn't see the urgency of the impending situation. In his six years, they had never gotten detention by themselves. There was that one time in their second year involving a common room food fight and four hours of wall cleaning, but there was Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, and the Prewetts. The thought of solo attention with Evans sounded liked purgatory.

Maybe Flitwick will be joining us? James, just then, had a terrible mental image of an office threesome and immediately wanted to hurl.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked cautiously, yet still laid in his bed.

"No," James pouted as he slipped his wand into his pocket. "I hate you."

"Oh, don't say that before leaving me, Love," he said, adding a loud smooch at the end.

James did his best not to laugh as he walked to the door. "Whatever. Okay, I think I'm ready to walk to my death."

"That's the spirit. Quick query before you go, would you be opposed to the idea of me shagging Marlene?"

To Sirius' surprise, James simply scoffed and walked out the room silent. Sirius did not like that. A Potter always demanded the last word. Nonverbal cues were a novelty.

Well, he didn't say no, Sirius thought. It was the randier part of himself making an appearance. A seventeen-year old boy had needs too. But this was not about hormonal fluctuations - this was about seducing the un-seducable. Marlene McKinnon was simply too-much woman. He had heard Marlene's past hook-ups praise the bird on her skills, boosting their morals for bedding the 'feat.' And he had heard Marlene critique the same boys harder than McGonagall grading OWL essays. It was tantalizing to spectate, but Sirius could only hold back his competitive side for so long. He had to win Marlene McKinnon over in a way that no one else could.

Sirius decided to interpret James' departure later and re-focused on the letters in front of him. The one that caught his eye had a black seal with a sigil of a wolf. It belonged to Alphard Black.

Sirius rolled his eyes as he broke the seal. He had made it clear to his uncle that this inheritance business was a bad idea during the last get-together. There was no reason to worry about his uncle's death preemptively, and Sirius was not in the mood to be thinking about a will and a potential Howler from his genetic creators.

"Old turd," Sirius grumbled. He unfolded the parchment quickly and scanned the message:

Dear Nephew,

I know the last time we spoke was not as pleasant and appealing as I wanted it to be. New Year's should've been a time for celebration, not post-mortem organization. I apologize for presenting the news in that fashion.

I acknowledge that what I said may have been shocking. ("No shite.") I do remember you saying that you were not interested in inheriting my fortune, but I am still confused as to why. It may be best to discuss more of this once again face-to-face. I can understand opposition, but Sirius you must understand that this fortune will go somewhere. And I do not want it in the hands of my sister, or anyone else with a face on Walburga's tree. You owning this fortune will prevent my nightmare from realizing.

I want to visit you at school this weekend. Not at the castle, of course. Your Headmaster is still terse with me for quitting after a year in '65. That story is for another time. I will be at the Three Broomsticks at 3pm on Sunday, and yes, I do know that this upcoming weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. So no excuses necessary.

Until then.

Your Uncle,

Alphard

Sirius read the letter twice more through before calling his uncle an "old turd" again. Although Alphard was by far his favorite blood-relative, the old man was still a Black: manipulative and demanding. Of course, Alphard would turn their pure and mutual hatred for their family against him. It was unfair and distracting. Sirius wanted to think about Marlene McKinnon instead.

"So you both understand why you're here, correct?" Professor Flitwick stood on a stack of books beside his desk. He wanted to be at eye-level with his students as he lectured them.

James and Lily both tried to speak at the same time, and that was overwhelming to the small man. They were both so passionate and loud that neither one could be heard properly. "Stop, stop, stop!" demanded Professor Flitwick, silencing the two Gryffindors. "Are you aware of what just happened, just now?"

The two exchanged resentful glances. "We've always bickered," James muttered, leaning against another stack of books. Professor Flitwick had multiple piles of books stacked througout his office, some taller than James even, on the floor and in the windowsills. How could anyone move, yet alone find something?

"Bicker is too kind of a word," Lily countered without looking at her detention-buddy.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands together. "Exactly," he said, "you two have always been like this." That made them shut up, which the Professor found quite peaceful. "It was expected when you were younger but now you are NEWT students and are about to be seventh years. You should be focusing on the fact that graduation is next year instead of finding ways to annoy one another in my classroom."

Lily flushed. She had never seen her professor so upset before; he was normally a rather lenient person.

"You are a prefect," he said, pointing to Lily before pointing to James, "and you, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. Little eleven year-olds look to both of you for support, guidance, and social-status advice. What would they do if they saw how you acted that day in class?"

"It was Sirius," James tried quietly, immediately regretting it.

"I don't care who it was," Professor Flitwick said, waving off the boy's poor attempt at an excuse. "I care about the result. The way you two acted and feed off each other was not acceptable classroom-ettiequte. Insult-after-insult. Don't you two get tired?"

"Yes," they both agreed. They exchanged quick glances before snapping their head at their professors.

Professor Flitwick shook his head. Some lessons just had to be self-taught. He took a deep breath. "Your assignment tonight is to dust all my books."

"Is that hygienic?" Lily wondered aloud.

The Professor ignored the comment. "Then, you will put those books in that corner back onto the top shelves. No magic."

"Professor!" James shouted, as if he had just accused them of murder. "That's ludicrous; it'll take hours."

"You'll live," shrugged the Professor. He hopped off his stack of books and slid on his robe. "I'll be back in two hours and expect to see some decent progress. No dilly-dallying." He walked out the classroom without another word, proud of himself for his discipline.

The door closed after Professor Flitwick left. They heard the door lock itself, ensuring no early escape. Lily and James looked to each other for a long moment, neither one was sure of what to do. It was a like a game of Chicken.

Lily was the first to break contact. She stalked over to one side of the room as she pulled out a rag from her pocket. "I'll do this side, you do that side," she said, keeping her voice level.

James didn't budge. "Are you going to ignore me this whole time?"

"I'll do my best to do so," she said, focusing intently on the number of rag strokes.

He let out a scoff. "You're seriously one of the most childish people I know." He walked over to his side of the room and took out his own rag.

"I am not," Lily countered hotly, finally looking up at him.

James decided two could play at this game. He simply stared back at her, saying nothing as he cleaned off his Professor's books. The ginger was smart and immediately caught onto his mockery. She let out a huff before moving down her first of fifteen stacks.

Emmeline was in the stacks of the library. She had a Divination project coming up about tarot cards as focusing objects for seers that she needed to get done by tomorrow's class. The Hufflepuff skimmed through the Divination section looking for the author, Susan Schupak, and it was taking forever and a half. Looking for the evidence and books took longer than writing the actual essay.

Emmeline made a right towards the Defensive Magic section. She thought she'd find her book right on the edge of the aisle but instead was met with something much different, but not unexpected.

Well, it was sort of unexpected because one could never really get used to the sight of an ex-partner being straddled by a blond peer. Emmeline nearly dropped her books at the sight of Lucinda Talkalot sitting on top of a desk with both of her skinny legs on either side of Robert. She had a hand on his tie and looked as if she was going to eat him, like a Black Widow luring its prey.

"I'm going to vomit," she whispered.

"Emmeline, wait!" Robert called out as Emmeline turned around and stalked away. "This isn't what it looks like!"

"Oh, Vance," whined Lucinda, leaning forward to stop him from getting up. "Don't be like that."

"Get off of me, Lucy," Robert demanded, pushing her back gently. He slid his chair back and followed Emmeline through the aisles. He caught up to her and grabbed her by the wrist, but she snatched it back.

Emmeline spun around. Robert expected to be punched in the jaw, nose, or throat, but was actually untouched. Instead, he was just met with a small angry girl right in front him, with tears swelling up in her tear ducts. He had dated her for a whole year and had never seen her try and hold back tears before. But, right now, her pride was in control and unwavering.

"Listen, you came in at a bad spot-"

"I told you so," Emmeline interjected calmly. "I told you so."

Robert shook his head. "It's not what you think."

The Hufflepuff looked down at her feet and scoffed, "I don't even care. Go have fun with Lucy, aye?"

"Don't be like this, please."

"Don't follow me," Emmeline said, ignoring his plea. She turned around again and left him. He reached out for her but before he could even touch her, Emmeline warned, "I'll scream if you touch me one more time."

The threat came off as a shock, so much so that Robert Vance didn't move for a moment. It was long enough for Emmeline to have walked away and not look back.

Robert let out a quiet 'fuck' as he kicked the edge of a book shelf. Why were girls so complicated?

"Fucking Bullocks!"

"What happened?!" Lily sat straight up from bending over dusting Flitwick's collection of fertility charms textbooks. For the past hour and a half, James and Lily had remained to their respective sides dusting in silence. Occasionally, they'd hear one another chuckle at the title or the content of a book. They were almost done with cleaning the stacks of books, and James had just begun to set-up for placing the books on the shelves. That's how it had happened.

"Nothing," James groaned as he sat down on a pile of books. He crossed his leg and began rubbing the arch of his book. "Chipped piece of wood on the ground."

She tried not to come off too interested. She leaned her head up, trying to get a view. It wasn't just a piece, but a small part of a plank inserted into James' big toe. "Merlin…" she whispered.

"It's nothing."

"Ha. Sure. Why are walking barefoot anyway?"

"I don't like shoes," he said simply. He scratched his head and examined the piece of wood. "Do I take it out, or just leave it?"

Lily rolled her eyes. Of course, James Potter didn't know proper first aid. For a moment, she thought about letting him figure it out on his own; it would be good for the spoiled prat. But the reality sunk in that she'd probably have to clean-up after his bloody mess and then explain it to their professor.

She grabbed a clean rag from Flitwick's desk and walked over to James. He looked surprised as she approached him. She bent down in front of him and observed the situation. Once she made her assessment, she looked up at him. "This'll hurt."

James had a sarcastic reply about Quidditch Training, but it never came out. Instead, he grunted as Lily ruthlessly pulled the hunk of wood out. Immediately, she wrapped the rag around his foot tightly, stopping the incoming bleeding. She tied a knot that would make a girl scout proud and said, "Don't take it off."

After James examined the decent bandage, he looked up at Lily. She was washing her hands in a sink. "Where'd you learn that?" He asked.

"My uncle was an ER Doctor. He taught me some basic stuff."

"ER?"

"Emergency Room," Lily clarified. "It's a muggle Healer."

"Magic would've been easier for this incident though, no?"

Lily looked around the room and circled a finger in the air. "Magic-free zone."

"You can tell that?" James asked, looking at the office in a new light now. He was decent at charms, but never found it to be his strong suit. Charms was a subjective art, in comparison to Transfiguration that had formulas and rules to follow.

Lily nodded. "It's to ensure we don't use magic to speed up the process of books. Also, you could just say thank-you." She added a curt smile at the end.

"Thank you, Evans," James said, mockingly. He stood up and set the ladder up. Luckily, there weren't many books to put on the shelves, they'd be done within the half-hour. It was beyond James why Professor Flitwick would want his collections on the tip-top shelf. Ironic. "You should be the one to go up."

Lily made a face and instantly said, "No."

"Why not?"

"Why not you?"

"Because if I fall, you can't catch me. And I'd really rather not worry about a potential head injury. If you fall, I can catch you. Or at least, lessen your fall."

She looked at the ladder warily. He had a point. James was nearly 1.9 meters and was muscular. Lily was wiry and small, hitting 1.6 meters. It was a considerable difference. Even though it made sense, Lily still had zero desire to stand up on the rickety-looking ladder. "I don't want to…" She whispered.

James looked at the ladder and gave it a hard tap with his knuckles. "It's pretty sturdy."

"Hardly convincing."

"Evans, are you still afraid of heights?"

Lily bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't want to let her pride down again, especially with him. But, her phobia was obvious. "Yes…" she said.

James tried not to further antagonize the ginger by smiling, but it was hard. She was just so... cute sometimes. "I'll hold onto the ladder for you and will hand you the books. I won't let you fall either."

"You mean that you'll catch me if I do."

"Yes, I will."

Lily took a deep breath as she approached the ladder slowly. She looked all the way to the top and suddenly felt rather small.

"One hand on the ladder," James instructed.

A less-nervous version of herself would've told him to sod off, because she clearly knows how ladders work. But, right now, she was unsure of the truth in that statement. Lily put her right hand on the ladder and let out a long exhale. She put another one on and slowly began her climb.

"'Thatta girl," James smiled as she made her way onto the ladder. She even moved up without further instruction. "You're going to do fine."

"I feel like I'm about to re-experience my supper." Lily was on the third step.

"Okay, let's talk about something else."

"Like what?"

"Oh, like anything," James insisted. "What's your favorite color?"

"Burgundy. Yours?"

"Teal. What's your favorite exotic cuisine?"

"Japanese food. I like oshinko."

"Ah, good choice. Udon noodle soup always knows how to calm the heart." At this point, he was just trying to say anything to distract her from the fact that she kept climbing. He commended her for her bravery though, until she nearly slipped off it. She winced, holding onto the ladder for her dear life. "You good?" He asked quickly. "Want to come down?"

Lily shook her head, but didn't move the lower half of her body. After a few deep breaths, Lily resumed her climb and said, "Tell me something more interesting than your love of noodles."

James thought about this as Lily motioned for the first few books. He passed them to her and said, "Sirius asked me if he could sleep with Marlene."

Lily laughed shortly, a harsh noise. She bent down to take the books gingerly before hurriedly placing them in their correct order. "How does that make you feel?"

"I can't tell if he's fucking with me or not."

"True."

"I mean, she's my cousin and more than capable to take of herself. But, just the thought makes it seem weird. Ugh, now I'm getting terrible visuals."

"That's valid. He's your foster-brother and she's your cousin. Both of them are family, and you're allowed to be weirded out by that. Next set, please."

James was impressed by her speed and sensitivity. Although he did have feeling that she was moving quickly so that she could come down even faster. He passed them to her and asked, "Do you think you'd be weirded out?"

"Sure, but they're adults. Literally. Both Sirius and Marlene are of-age and allowed to make their own choices."

James faltered. He leaned against the book case with the next set ready and waiting. "But they're both arses."

Lily let out a laugh, a softer one this time, as she placed the next set. She motioned for the next set and said, "Yes, they are. Especially when it comes to relationships."

"I mean, they both believe in one-night stands and two-night stays. And if they go farther than time, it's barely for a week. They like to charm them and leave them more than shag them and leave them."

"Again, true," She agreed. "And you're worried about what that might do for you?"

James hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"Would you like it if Marlene had a say in you shagging Henley?"

Now, that was uncalled for and unexpected. He looked down at the next set of books, which of course had to do with more sexual potency charms. No wonder the professor wanted those out-of-sight from students.

"She adds her say whether I like it or not," James revealed as he passed her the set of books.

Lily laughed again, this time softer. "Oh, does she ever. But do you listen?"

"Hell no," James said defiantly. "She's been calling Henley a tart since the New Year's party and now we're shagging. And that was the first night I kissed her." And you, he wanted to add but thought better of it.

Lily waited for a moment. "Right," she said. "So, you don't get a say in whether she gets to shag Sirius. I mean, you didn't listen to her, she doesn't have to listen to you."

James exhaled. "Maybe I should've."

"Listened to Marlene?" She repeated. She never thought she'd live to see this day.

He nodded. "Last set," James said as he passed the books to her. When he realized that Lily was remaining silent for him to continue, he added, "Camilla has been on-edge recently."

"Explain."

"Well, it's like… she's following me. Everywhere."

"Oh. Oh."

"Maybe she feels like I'm not telling her something, which is true. I couldn't have told her about all the Meadowes and Usuper shite even if I wanted to. She'd probably tell Cresswell and Jones in a heartbeat, and then they'd tell someone else, and then it becomes a bloody congo line."

"You can't be with someone you don't trust." It took Lily a minute to realize that she said it aloud instead of in her head. She coughed and said, "That's what happened to Connor and me. He stopped trusting me."

James gulped, unsure of what to add. "You know, I am sorry about that." It was better than nothing.

"Me too. Also, I shouldn't have put that on you."

"But you had a point," James said, still not sure why he was attacking himself. "Greyson would've always nervous if we were friends while you were dating. I should've stayed back."

"No, no," Lily said immediately. She took a deep breath. "I shouldn't be with someone who puts his own insecurities onto me. He thought my… acquaintance-ship with you would compromise mine with him and broke up with me because of it. And now that I've had time to process it, I just decided to blame you."

"Oh?" James asked, curiously.

Lily placed the last book and then looked down at James. His large hazel eyes were staring up at her, waiting. "You're an easy scapegoat for me, Potter. When something goes wrong, I blame you. I always have," she said. It sounded awfully similar to an apology.

James waited for her to explain that loaded statement, and when he realized that Lily wasn't going to do so, he simply exhaled. How many times could two people leave one another speechless?

"I'm going to come down now." Lily moved slowly down the steps, holding onto the ladder securely. Despite her cautious actions, Lily could not compete against good ole' fate. The wooden step broke towards the middle of the climb. She didn't fall backwards, but straight down, like a pencil dive into the pool.

It was only a moment of action since James was ready and waiting by the side of the ladder. He managed to somehow get himself between Lily and the ladder and wrap his arms around her thighs (right below her buttocks, which everyone was trying to ignore). His chin rested right above the hem of her jeans. He was looking up at her face, which was slightly hidden due to the fact that she had breasts. What he could see of her face was that she was panting for air and shaking. In a calm voice, he instructed, "Lily, take your hands off the ladder. I got you."

"E-easy for you to say," She said. "You have two feet on the ground."

"You can trust me. I won't let you fall." His words were surprisingly relaxed and level. She didn't know he could sound so serene.

It took another several seconds for Lily to listen to his words, but eventually, she lifted her hands off the wood. She imagined James falling backwards due to her weight and them colliding onto the ground and books. She thought of broken bones and scars, but was met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. He held her steady. "Rest your hands on my shoulders, not hard, please," he continued.

"What about tipping of weights?" She whispered, and not sure why she was speaking in a lower decibel.

"It's fine," he said gently. He had to maintain a voice to keep her calm, otherwise they'd both be in trouble. "Trust me."

Lily made a face but eventually rested her hands onto his shoulders gently, which were tense and solid masses. Perhaps that was the only thing she could focus on besides the idea of a falling death.

James lowered his grip around her thighs slowly. Slow enough to let her slide down his body and still close enough to hold her. He tried not to smile when his breath against her skin made her body shiver. He tried not to get an immediate erection when his face passed the valley between her breasts. It was hard being sixteen.

James only stopped when they were eye-to-eye, which was a rarity since they were a whole head a part. He just wanted to look into her eyes and see what she really meant. Why was she trying to apologize to him, and what was she doing to him?

For a moment, his mind wandered. He imagined something vulgar, yet pure. His body against Lily's, right up against the bookcase, and taking her. Of course, if she'd allow. They had been playing this game for so long now that he just had to at least try. She made think him fuzzy, and his heart race like he was constantly on adrenaline.

Why not? James thought.

Lily must've been thinking the same thing because she leaned in too. James Potter was truly in heaven.

Until he heard the door unlock. James cursed God (or Buddha, Zeus, Allah, etc.) and immediately set her down, just in time for Professor Flitwick's shadow to be visible. The little professor popped his head in. "Ah, well, you two have done a marvelous job. I didn't expect you to do so much in such a short time," he commended, looking around the room admirably. "Good teamwork, I suppose."

"You could say that," James muttered under his breath. Lily stepped on his toe. He wanted to holler and curse her out, but remained as silent as possible. At least, they wouldn't be awkward about their almost-song. What was this, the third time now?

"Well, off you go," Professor Flitwick said. "You ought to be tired. I'll give back those ten points for timeliness. You two did a splendid job. I hope you both now understand your positions in relation to one another and the rest of the school."

James wanted to say 'we sure do,' but decided against another round of foot-to-toe action. "Thank you, Professor."

"Good night, Professor," Lily nodded. She walked ahead with James on her tail out of the third floor office.

"Sleep well, you two," Professor Flitwick said, still admiring the cleanliness of his book collection. He closed the door without even looking at them.

James didn't stop walking once he started, same as Lily. There was too much going on in both of their minds and bodies. The two parts were clashing: mind says stay away, while body says why aren't you already ripping each other's clothes off. But, neither one wanted to be the first to initiate. They reached a stand-still like elementary school love where nobody wants to confess first.

You only get one chance, Potter, his brain reminded him. But his body reminded him that it seemed like she wanted to too.

Luckily, James didn't have to think too much about it. Because Lily made up her mind first. She stopped in her tracks, causing James to do the same. They were on the staircase now, almost by the Fat Lady's portrait. No one was in the hall, so no one would witness the spectacle of Lily turning around and trotting down the stairs right to James.

"Lily, what're you-" He didn't have time to finish his question, because Lily had taken his face into her hands. She pulled him close and pressed her lips warmly against him. James now for sure thought he was in Heaven, or at least, dead because no way would reality allow for Lily to be the one imitating a kiss with him. It just couldn't be real.

But then she parted her lips against his. And well, James didn't really care if he were dead or alive at this point. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into hers, he wanted to be the first at something. His hands dropped to her hips, pulling her closer. He had to feel everything.

It felt like nothing before. Her skin felt soft and smooth, and her touch was warm. She tasted like vanilla and rain on cement. But the best part was hearing her whimper. Lily Evans fucking whimpered because of him. The sound was barely audible and short-lived, but he would't forgot that airy noise ever. It was addicting, and he had to hear it again.

But then, the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. She turned around as quickly as she could and wiped her lips. Hestia Jones came out through the portrait with their wands in hand, probably off to do their rounds.

"Hi," she said awkwardly. Although she didn't see anything since the castle was dark, she knew she had interrupted something or other. The looks on their faces gave everything away.

"Hi, Jones," Lily smiled, trying her hardest to seem bright. James just grinned, but immediately looked to the floor. "We're coming from detention with Flitwick."

"Oh, right. I heard about that from Camilla." She added the last part with emphasis, looking at James.

Message read, James thought to himself.

"Well, we best be going inside," smiled Lily. She trotted up the last couple of stairs with James following. Neither one decided to look at Hestia as they entered the Gryffindor common room. And neither one decided to look at each other as they returned to their respective dorm rooms.

A/N -I apologize for the late update. Things got pretty hectic recently, but I'm glad I got to update in two weeks and not longer! I hope the ending made up for things :) Enjoy! If you feel like it, please follow, favorite, or review. Constructive feedback is also wholeheartedly welcomed.

Thanks,

Rose