Summary: One Shot It takes only two, quick breaths before Lily Evans changes everything.

A/N: This is a one shot. It is my first HP fan fic. It is a JPLE pairing. R&R please.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

Two, Quick Breaths

She could hear them behind her, planning.

"What do you think?" Said one of them with a squeaky voice. That was Peter. Peter Pettigrew-- man number four. The lowest of the highest, all because he followed where they lead.

"I think it's brilliant! I mean, just imagine, a whole corridor full of snow in the heat of summer!" Said another voice, deeper, softer, and a bit raspier. That was Remus Lupin. The werewolf. The moon-obsessed monster. And ironically, the only good one among them-- man number three.

"But why fill it with just placid snow? Honestly-- think bigger! What about rolling boulders of snow! Like snowmen, coming after the students? Now that would be bloody brilliant." Said a third voice. He was excited, like a puppy that wouldn't calm down. Always thinking ahead, Sirius Black took things one-step further. His mind was always on. It was always calculating, judging, reaching for that emotion or that event that he had yet to come across-- the one that would bring him ultimate glory. Sirius Black, man of possibilities, danger, and a past as dark as his surname-- man number two.

"All right there, Evans?" Whispered a voice close to the back of her head. It sent shivers down her spine. Slow and melodious, arrogant and rich-- Lily Evans would know that voice anywhere. James Potter-- man number one of the infamous Marauders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The leader. The one to act. The one to achieve. The one to taunt, to tease, to torture. The one who sent shivers down her spine as her eyes widened and her heart pounded in heavy and painful bursts.

Lily jumped, and turned in her chair slowly to face James. He was leaning over her chair, staring at her with marsh-water eyes from behind his spectacles. His shadowed face, his dark hair, his black school robes-- they all lent to the sudden image of a foreboding specter hovering over her in a thick cloud of darkness.

"Cat got your tongue, love?" Said James, smirking at her and stepping back.

"Oi, JAMES!" Came Sirius's shout from the armchair he was resting in behind the table Lily sat at. "We need your input here, mate!"

Lily, who was still staring at James, shot up in her chair. James moved towards Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who were staring at him with calculating, skeptical, and devious looks. The sat by the fireplace grouped in a circle. Sauntering over to them, James turned and caught Lily's eyes with his own.

"Lost in the depths of my eyes, Evans? Don't drown, love." James drawled at her after a few moments of gazing steadily back at her.

Lily stood up, her chair shoved back with a loud screech, and she rushed away from her table. Her half-finished transfiguration essay slipped to the ground and her quill clattered onto the table as she left her books and school gear behind her. She streaked over to the portrait hole and pulled the door open. Stumbling out into the corridor outside of the Gryffindor common room, Lily's exit was followed with the laughter of James and his friends.

In the dark and deserted hallway, Lily shook her red-haired head wildly and shook her arms violently. He didn't know what he did to her. He didn't know what he did to her. He didn't know what he did to her. Rubbing her hands over her face, Lily shivered, just remembering his eyes. His deep, wild, insatiable eyes that glowed at her like beacons on a foggy, mysterious coast. She pulled her black school robes tight around her body and marched off down the corridor-- to where, she did not know.

This had been going on since third year. Lily was tormented with the image of James Potter. She was plagued with the feelings that washed over her whenever she was around him. The thin parts of quills broke in her grasp when she would catch him looking at her. Her mouth would dry up when he stood over her, breathing harshly, and looking at her as if he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her or kiss her-- she could never tell. But he didn't touch her. He just didn't. It was an unspoken rule. Lily Evans, with her quiet ways and small body, her bright, bottle green eyes and fiery copper hair, was untouchable. Sometimes, when she was the last one in the library or in the common room, Lily felt something at her back, not brushing her skin, but just near enough to be able to feel its body heat. Then she would turn around, only to be staring at thin air.

As she strode down the hallways of a slumbering Hogwarts, Lily's footsteps made sharp pats on the cold stone beneath her. Stopping suddenly, she moved slowly into one of the stone cubbyholes that lined many of the corridors. Hidden in the dark, Lily held her breath and watched the dimly lit hallway in front of her hiding space. A dark figure moved stealthily past the cubbyhole, his wand pointed downward at his side, casting a subtle light at his feet.

Lily waited a few moments for him to move past where she hid, then stepped swiftly out into the hall silently. She stared at the back of James Potter as he moved down the corridor quickly, presumably trying to catch up to her. Suddenly James' body stopped walking, and he stood still. Lily could see his wand shaking in his hand slightly before he turned around so slowly it was as if he was moving in molasses. James stared at the ground in front of him for a moment before his head shot up and he stared at Lily, his hazel eyes gleaming.

Two, quick breaths. Then Lily was pounding down the hallway towards his still form, moving like lightning. Her hands hit the front of his robes and she pushed him back until he slammed against the tapestry-covered stone wall of the corridor. He never touched her. It was an unspoken rule in his mind. Lily could almost taste his nervous, skittish fear as she breathed in and out erratically and stared at his throat, her hands grasping the front of his robes firmly.

There was a clatter, and James's wand fell to the floor, the light going out as it hit the ground. His hands moved up and were on her neck, in her hair, beneath her chin, tugging at her so she stared up at his tense face. He leaned down slightly, and his lips were only millimeters away from hers. Shivers went down Lily's spine as her eyes widened and her heart banged in her chest in heavy and painful bursts.

Suddenly his breath, hot and fast, was on her flushed face, and he was whispering to her, "You don't know what you do to me. You don't know what you do to me. You don't know what you do to me."

Lily stared at his eyes-- his marsh-colored eyes that glinted at her like bright pieces of sharp glass, asking her something. They were demanding from her something. They screamed with uncertainty and impatience at her answer. Lily's hands raced up to James's head, and she grasped the back of his neck and tugged until his lips crashed against her own. Lily, eyes closed, hands grasping, lips pressing, breath ragged, had answered James's question.