Getting serious

Her breathing was still too fast. She was definitely still awake.

James shifted closer to the edge of the bed, away from the red haired beauty beside him. For the first time the heat of her body only added to his discomfort instead of the satisfaction he usually received from sharing his bed with his girlfriend.

Girlfriend. Yes, she was definitely that. They had passed the stage of 'dating' a long time ago and they were now officially a couple. A couple of exactly three weeks, five days and seventeen hours (not that James was counting); a couple that were very honest and open with each other; they shared everything.

Except this.

This was something they'd never – um – shared.

Another wave hit him and James clenched until it passed. He was going to do himself serious damage if he carried this on for much longer. He shifted positions, trying to find one that offered more comfort to his condition. Nothing seemed to work.

Surely by three weeks, five days and seventeen hours (not that James was counting) this sort of thing would be acceptable. Right? She'd shared his bed more times than he could remember, and although they hadn't gone the whole way, they had certainly got close - fooled around - whatever you want to call it. James was proud to say he had at least seen Lily Evans naked. If he were to be trampled by a heard of angry Hippogriffs tomorrow, he'd die a very happy man - that much was certain. They were comfortable in each other's presence; there was no topic that could not be discussed between them. Hell, he'd even bared a terrifying discussion on periods when his hand had strayed dangerously close to her knickers last Thursday night. But this…? This was risky business. This was the line between getting serious and…not. James would willingly Avada Kevada himself he managed to screw things up with Lily Evans because of gas.

Yes. Gas.

And James had it bad.

It was all Sirius's fault, he had no doubt about it; sneaking off to Hogsmeade and returning with a crate full of butterbeer to celebrate Peter's birthday. Sirius knew how it made him bloat, that's why James preferred firewhiskey (not to mention it had the added bonus of making one roaringly drunk within a very short space of time). But as it was, he had been guilted into drinking it at least a quart of that damned crate else Peter should think he didn't want to toast to his coming of age. What was he supposed to do? He knew it was a bad idea, he knew what that butterbeer would do to his insides, but then Lily Evans had come into view and before he knew it he was picking her up bridal style and depositing her onto his bed. Thoroughly distracted by a half naked goddess between his sheets, his poor stomach was pushed to the very back of his mind until about one hour ago when he felt a familiar tremble in the deep of his bowels and James knew he had made a very big mistake.

Lily rolled over in her not-yet-asleep daze, a contended sigh escaping her lips. Did she always take this long to fall asleep? James wouldn't know; he usually fell unconscious the moment his head hit the pillow. But maybe if she could just hurry up he might be able to relieve himself without her ever knowing…

Another bout of gas threatened to escape and he tried changing positions again finding that lying on his stomach seemed to put too much pressure on his conjoining regions. Then again, bending his legs like this made it hard to clamp down as another wave hit him. Maybe if he tried shifting his-

"What are you doing?"

Her perfectly manicured hand was extended out to him lazily, resting gently on his upper arm to get his attention.

"Nothing."

"You're rocking the bed."

"Sorry."

She withdrew the arm, using it to pull the blankets back over herself as they had been tangled in James's movement. James focused on remaining entirely still in his new position – one that was not quite as comfortable as he had hoped. He felt his bowels tremble under the pressure.

Living in a dorm with three boys for the past seven years, James had never had to worry about this sort of thing before. Breaking wind was an every day occurrence, widely accepted by the male species as a completely natural event. James briefly wondered if girls even did it at all. A stupid thought, really – of course they must; they'd simply explode if they didn't. But it just seemed so unnatural to think of his sweet, innocent Lily being capable of a bowel trembling blast or one of those evil silent but deadlies that Sirius was renowned for. James wouldn't be surprised to find out she'd never so much as burped in her whole life. She just didn't seem capable of anything so vulgar.

This time his stomach actually gurgled as he clenched his lower muscles against release. It was getting painful. Glancing to his left he could see Lily was still awake. The moonlight from the window sneaking through a gap in the hangings of his four-poster illuminated her face, reflecting in her eyes. She would blink occasionally for the longest time and James would feel his hopes rising, only to have them squashed a moment later as those green orbs reemerged to stare at nothing in particular.

Would she really care? James felt he had to be honest now; this was Lily Evans after all. Mature, understanding, sensible Lily Evans; beloved girlfriend of three weeks, five days and seventeen hours (not that James was counting) whom as far as he knew, loved him very much in return. Would she really care about a bit of gas? Surely it was beneath her to start pinching her nose and squealing like a child because her boyfriend had the terrible need to relieve himself of a perfectly natural, uncontrollable problem. Let's face it; farting was a part of life. And if they expected to spend the rest of their lives together then it was something they had to get used to. It wasn't really a hindrance on the progression of their relationship – it was a step forward – one last boundary to cross on the road to getting serious. The breaking of wind in the presence of his true love was a symbol of complete trust and total devotion. She should be delighted that he felt comfortable enough to fart in front of her. He very much hoped she might return the gesture one day.

So it was decided. He would do it. No more clenching and cramping. The next time that wave hit him he would ride it to the end. This was his moment of-

Crap.

A sudden movement on Lily's behalf brought her directly to his side, one leg draping over his and her arm across his chest, slowly massaging soothing circles into his taut muscles. He couldn't break wind on her. That was just wrong. It had to be discreet, carefree, not in the midst of a loving embrace.

The wave hit. He clenched.

"What's on your mind?"

She must have noticed him watching her earlier, and knowing how he usually fell asleep straight away assumed there was something amiss. But before he had the opportunity to reply, she spoke again.

"You're warm," she whispered with a slightly worried tone after running the back of her hand down his cheek. A second hand to the forehead conformed her suspicions. "And you're clammy; are you not feeling well?"

Clammy? Perhaps she was just being nice. James felt as though he was sweating buckets under all the pressure.

"I'm fine," he replied assuringly. "Just a bit hot in here, don't you think?"

Thankfully Lily took this as a signal to back off and she considerately rolled down the sheets to his mid section. Pushing his hair back from his sweaty brow she adorned a quick kiss to his temple and settled herself back on her side of the bed. James breathed with ease again and everything was fine for about three seconds until his stomach gave a particularly painful spasm and gurgled loudly. James grimaced.

"James? Are you all right?"

"I've – I've got a bit of a stomach ache," he told her honestly. "But it's nothing, it'll pass."

Her head was raised from the pillow, watching him uneasily. His stomach squelched again. "James, you won't sleep if you're feeling under the weather. It's okay to admit you're ill, you know. It doesn't make you any less macho." She smiled adoringly.

James nodded. Oh how lucky he was to have such a caring girlfriend. Off to Madam Pomfrey it was! Or at least, that's what she'd think. Leave the dorm for ten minutes, pretend he was off to visit the hospital wing, and he'd have all the time he wanted to relieve himself in the deserted common room. Perfect.

"Maybe you just need to sit on the toilet for a while, that might help."

James froze half way out of bed. The toilet? Gas was one thing, but he certainly didn't need Lily Evans imagining him with diarrhoea.

"It's not that," he replied, hoping to hide his embarrassment with a slightly stern tone. "I'll be fine," he added quickly, getting back into bed.

It took a moment before she lay down again, clearly not 100 content with his response, but she was in no place to argue.

And then there was silence. And James resumed his earlier task of gauging his girlfriend's breathing.

That was it; James was never drinking butterbeer again. Come to think of it – clench – from now on he was swearing off beer of any type, broccoli, beans, brussel sprouts – clench – and any other kind of gas producing foods. Breaking wind if front of one's girlfriend was something not to be taken lightly. It took great courage to step over that particular boundary and Griffindor or not – clench - James was in no condition to face that sort of challenge at this moment in time. Perhaps in another couple of weeks. After all, he was pretty sure sex came first on the list before the sharing of vulgar bodily functions. Yes, that's right. Nudity, sex and then farts. That was the way of it – clench – and in the morning he was going to kill Sirius-

PARP

James's eyes squeezed shut in mortification. He'd gone and done it. It was very small and barely audible, but he'd done it. He'd broken the rule of sex before gas and any second now Lily was going to be running from his bed accusing of him being a vile pig and he'd never even get to have sex with her at all…

But wait… If he'd just gone and done it, then why did he still feel so bloated? He chanced a glace at Lily. She yawned, rolling over as though nothing had occurred.

And then he heard it.

"Pardon me."