Chapter Two: Repercussions
Where do we go, nobody knows. Where do we go to draw the line? Now, when you work it out I'm worse than you.
I've gotta say I'm on my way down.
God give me style and give me grace.
God put a smile upon my face.
I've gotta say, I wasted all your time, oh honey, honey.
Where do I go to fall from grace?
God put a smile upon your face.
Yeah, when you work it out, I want it, too.
Now when you work out where to draw the line;
Your guess is as good as mine...
-Coldplay, God Put A Smile Upon Your Face
Lily woke early the next morning to the sight of dazzling sunshine streaming through their tower windows, dousing the room in sea of early morning light and causing Lily's head to throb violently. She felt as though she'd been hit over the head with a particularly nasty bludger. She sat up, groaned as the pounding in her head intensified, jerked the curtains shut around her bed, and lay back down, the hammering in her head diminishing slightly now that the glaring sun had been subdued by the heavy curtains surrounding Lily's four-poster bed.
Unfortunately, she found it was now impossible to roll back over and fall asleep, and with an agitated sigh, she began the irritatingly slow process of ridding her muddled memory of the thick fog that seemed to have settled overnight, blanketing her mind in an almost impenetrable haze.
Yesterday had been Petunia's wedding, and Lily, of course, hadn't been invited.
That much she remembered clearly.
What followed, however, was far hazier.
Lily had celebrated Petunia's sleight of hand by – well – getting spectacularly pissed, chasing a house elf around the kitchens like a deranged madwoman, and setting small (but effective) fires throughout the entire castle?
Could that possibly right?
But Lily knew it was. She groaned again, shutting her eyes tightly to ineffectively block out these discomfiting images.
Then Dorcas had dragged her back up to Gryffindor Tower, she remembered….
Her brow furrowed in concentration.
Had she gone to bed then?
No – they'd run into someone in the common room. Viola? Helen? Margaret? No, it hadn't been any of Lily's and Dorcas' other three female seventh-year housemates….
And then it hit her, so hard and fast that for a moment she was sure she was going to be sick. She shot up from amongst her pillows and felt her eyes widening in a mixture of disbelief and horror.
The Marauders.
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew – and James Potter.
"Oh, no." Lily moaned quietly, as more of the night's dreadful events began seeping slowly back into her consciousness.
She had kissed James Potter. She had kissed him, entirely and completely of her own volition.
And damned if it hadn't been the most incredible kiss of her life to date.
She flushed, trying desperately to stamp down any more thoughts of this rebellious nature – a difficult task, as they were now bubbling forth to the forefront of her mind with increasing temerity and force. The softness of his lips, the slight stubble on his chin, the way his hair had felt as she'd tangled her fingers into it—
Was she still drunk? What was she thinking?
James Potter surely didn't have soft lips, the stubble on his chin was more than likely some calculated attempt on his part to look rugged and manly, and she had never met anyone in her entire life, Wizard or Muggle, who needed to invest in a comb more than James Potter did.
There. That was much better.
But messy or not, his hair had been surprisingly soft—
Oh, bother.
Her heart was pounding furiously, and her palms were sticky with sweat. She yanked back the curtains surrounding her four-poster and stumbled into the bathroom she shared with the other seventh-year Gryffindor girls. She examined her reflection in the mirror with a critical eye. ("Merlin's beard, but you do look a fright!" the mirror trilled merrily.) Her hair this morning looked like a longer, thicker, redder, and slightly more insane version of what Potter's hair looked like on a regular basis. It was hopelessly tangled with disheveled tufts poking up and standing on end throughout the back and sides. Her makeup from the day before had left smeared circles of black surrounding her eyes, and her pallid complexion stood out in stark contrast to her vivid hair and dark raccoon-eyes. She was still fully dressed in her school uniform – minus her robes – and her shirt, vest, and skirt were wrinkled and creased beyond belief. Her skirt was twisted sideways, and one of her stockings was pulled up slightly higher than the other.
She looked a veritable mess.
After a quick shower, Lily journeyed down to the Great Hall, which was still almost emptied of students at this early hour. She grabbed a few pieces of bland toast and made her way to the deserted library. Her head still ached, but the silence of the library and the familiar smell of thousands of musty tomes helped significantly in soothing her frazzled nerves. She wended her way expertly through the stacks until she came to a table in the back, hidden from view of the rest of the library. She sat down with her toast and began eating in meditative silence, attempting valiantly to keep her mind deliberately blank.
It was no good, though. James Potter's warm hazel eyes popped unbidden into her mind.
Your eyes – they have flecks of gold in them. It's nice, but it's kind of making me dizzy.
And then she had kissed him.
This was too, too embarrassing.
Sirius poked James with his tip of his wand. James grunted and swatted Sirius away with a halfhearted and badly aimed swing of his arm but did not open his eyes. Sirius poked again.
"Whassamatter?" James mumbled finally, squinting open his eyes and taking in the blurry silhouette of his best friend.
"It's two in the afternoon, Prongs," Sirius admonished in a mock-motherly tone. "Moony, Wormtail, and I have been up for almost two hours now."
James reached for his bedside table and perched his glasses on top of his nose. The world slid into sharp focus, and his eyes turned back to Sirius. "So? It's the bleeding weekend. What d'you need me for?"
"Somebody's cranky this afternoon," Sirius replied, unperturbed, poking James with his wand for a third time. (He regretted this action instantly, as James yanked Sirius' wand from his grip and irritably chunked it across the room. It landed with a faint clatter somewhere behind Peter's bed.) "Did ickle Jamiekins not get to partake in a magical enterprise of decadence, debauchery, and sins of the flesh with one Lily Evans after we left for bed last night?"
James laughed shortly, and Sirius continued on a more serious – for him, at least – note. "Really, though – you can't honestly claim that nothing happened between you two last night. Evans was acting as though she'd gotten hold of a particularly potent love potion; she was all over you, mate."
James frowned distractedly. "You don't know the half of it."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Enlighten me," he said with a grin, but before James could offer an explanation, he was speaking again, the grin on his face growing wider and more devious with each passing second. "Oh, wait – I know where this is going. Silly of me not to see it before. Evans really was under the influence of a love potion, wasn't she? Well, to each his own, buddy, but in my experience, it's always better to go after the ones who don't require an altered state of consciousness to find you worthy of a shag. Some might consider that date rape, you know."
James rolled his eyes and permitted Sirius a small chuckle of appreciation before filling him in what had followed in the common room after he, Remus, Peter, and Dorcas had retired to bed. Sirius laughed out loud when James finished.
"Oh – that's – rich," he managed to splutter between fits of rather girlish giggles. "Evans fed you a line. 'Oh, James, your eyes are so golden and pretty'," Sirius mocked, pitching his voice into a rather ridiculous falsetto and fluttering his eyelashes. He lowered his voice and continued, "And you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Nicely done, Prongs – nicely done."
He ducked expertly as James lazily lobbed a pillow at his head.
"Well, I don't see why you've got your knickers in a twist," Sirius persisted reasonably, picking up James' pillow and absently tossing it back on the bed. "I thought this was what you always wanted – Lily Evans, throwing herself passionately into your arms and begging you to ravish her senseless."
"That's not exactly how it happened, Padfoot," James replied dryly, sliding off his bed and shuffling toward his trunk, a slight frown of preoccupation marring his usually carelessly confident features.
Sirius stared at James intently, a look of perceptive contemplation on his face. Blissfully oblivious to Sirius' shrewd gaze, James unlocked his trunk with a flick of his wand and began sifting through its contents, tossing books, articles of clothing, Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, Dungbombs, and what looked like moldy bits of old cheese ("Wormtail," James muttered in disgust) on the ground at random as he dug deeper.
"Where'd we put the map last?" he finally asked Sirius, slamming shut the lid of his trunk and standing up to survey the rest of their room. "I want to go find Evans – sort this whole mess out somehow."
Though judging by the befuddled look on his face, James didn't have the slightest clue how to go about doing that, Sirius noted silently.
Sirius shrugged noncommittally and twisted his face into what he hoped was a look of puzzled concern, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt as the slight weight of the Marauder's Map shifted in an inner pocket of his robes. It was best that James didn't go blundering after Evans just yet – not until Sirius had had a chance to speak to her first – a chance to test the waters, so to speak.
James tore apart the room in a frenzied search for the four Marauders' most prized possession – a detailed map they'd created in their last two years at Hogwarts outlining the entire school and labeling the students, teachers, ghosts, and pesky poltergeists therein. After searching the entire room to no avail, James finally conceded defeat with a disgruntled sigh. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair before belatedly realizing he was already fifteen minutes late to Quidditch practice and dashing out the door with his broom slung over his shoulder and his Quidditch robes clutched in his hands, cursing wildly as he ran.
Sirius waited until he was sure James had gone before whipping out the map, retrieving his now dusty wand from behind Peter's bed, and tapping the seemingly unexciting scrap of parchment with a muttered "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
The blank parchment disappeared immediately as a detailed blueprint of the school materialized. Sirius looked for James' name and saw it moving quickly across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. Remus and Peter were in the Great Hall, probably getting in a late lunch, and Evans – Sirius scanned the parchment intently – Evans' dot was sitting very still in a far corner of the library.
Perfect.
He set off at once, relishing the thought of subjecting Lily Evans to a grueling interrogation regarding the nature of her intentions toward a certain Mr. James Harold Potter.
Lily woke abruptly. Something – or someone, rather – was poking her, methodically jabbing her side with something long and rather – well, pokey, for lack of better terminology.
"Dorcas?" she protested sleepily, venturing to open an eye when it became apparent that the incessant poking would not soon cease and desist.
But it was not Dorcas staring down at her and continuing to poke her with a wand, and she was not safely ensconced in their tower room, as she'd originally surmised. She was in a secluded alcove of the library, and she was looking up into the leering face of Sirius Black. And, she noticed wryly, drawing a hand up to her cheek, there were breadcrumbs all over her face where she'd fallen asleep on the table that her toast from breakfast had been resting upon. It was a decidedly disadvantageous situation.
She sat up slowly, dread weighing down her limbs heavily. She should have expected this. There was no way Sirius Black would let Lily Evans – Lily Evans, of all people – get away with snogging James Potter in a drunken stupor without eliciting from her a detailed and thorough explanation of her actions. He'd probably want maps and diagrams.
"All right there, Evans?" Sirius asked cheerfully, a disturbing grin plastered on his handsome face.
Lily smiled blandly. "Good morning, Sirius."
"Morning? It's almost three in the afternoon," Sirius responded with his trademark haughty smirk, his gray eyes cool and piercing. "But I expect you're probably still reeling from your randy little romp with Jamie last night. No shame in that," he concluded indulgently, leaning forward to tap Lily lightly on the nose.
Lily wrinkled her nose, shot Sirius a shrewd look, and decided to forgo pleasantries.
"Let's get down to business, Black," she said curtly, sitting up straight and wiping the remains of breadcrumbs and what felt suspiciously like drool off her face. "What do you want to know?"
Sirius continued smiling serenely, somehow managing to push back the chair next to Lily's and slide gracefully into the seat in one infuriatingly fluid motion. Lily watched him through narrowed eyes.
"You made a big mistake last night, Evans," he said simply, shaking his head at her remorsefully. "Do you have even the slightest idea how badly this is going to fuck with his head? He'll be a complete nutter by the end of the week. He's been on the edge for years, of course," he added conversationally. "But this, I'm afraid, will render him a raving lunatic."
"Why?" Lily asked with a frown, baffled by Sirius' matter-of-fact proclamation. "If anything, last night should have simplified matters between Potter and me. He got to satiate years of curiosity, and I can now officially be added to the ever-increasing roster of witches – and probably wizards – who have had James Potter's tongue down their throats."
She shrugged her shoulders, and Sirius thought he saw something that looked remarkably like regret in her eyes.
"The thrill of the chase is over," she concluded bleakly, absently twirling a lock of vivid red hair between her fingers. "Potter will move on to bigger and better things now."
Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "And they made you Head Girl?" he asked, sounding genuinely mystified. "You're an absolute simpleton, Evans."
"You're right," Lily conceded seriously. "He may move on to bigger things, but they certainly won't be better."
"Look," Sirius said, rolling his eyes heavenward and shooting Lily a look of barely disguised impatience. "Why can't you give him a chance? He's been after you for three years now – three long, torturous years of 'Why won't Lily notice me?' and 'Do you think Lily will like my new haircut?' and 'If Lily could only see how marvelously attractive and wonderful I am, she'd fall in love for sure.'"
Lily almost laughed out loud at Sirius' surprisingly on-the-mark imitation of James. She was unwilling to allow Black to see she found anything he said remotely amusing, however, so she settled for asking, "Potter gets haircuts?"
Sirius grinned in acknowledgement of her jibe and continued his spiel. "Don't you think you owe him at least one date – or even just a quick shag, if that's what you'd prefer – after everything you've put the poor guy through?"
It was the wrong thing to say, Sirius realized immediately.
"I don't owe James Potter anything," Lily spat furiously, rising angrily from her chair and stalking away from Sirius, irritated that she'd almost been amused – and even convinced – by his wheedling antics.
Sirius rose, too, jogging slightly to catch up with Lily's quickly retreating back.
"All right – clearly I've angered the beast," he said placidly, casually slinging an arm around Lily's shoulders and walking in step with her. "But I warn you, Flower Power – if you hurt James again, I will not hesitate to kill you myself. You've caused enough damage as it is, and I'm not picking up the pieces and putting James back together this time. You aren't worth it."
His tone remained pleasant, but his grip on Lily's shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly; Lily flinched in discomfort and quickened her step.
"I'd hate to have to hex a girl, Evans. Even if it is only you."
He released Lily from his grip and stopped walking. Lily stopped, too, turning to face Sirius, her malachite eyes flashing with anger, obstinacy, and a decided amount of what looked like guarded uncertainty. Even Sirius, who usually looked upon Lily with unwavering distrust and dislike, could grudgingly admit that Evans' animated facial features and expressive eyes made her one of the most attractive girls in the school. There was passion and intensity in everything she did or felt; nothing came in halves with Lily Evans. He could sometimes see how James might be attracted to that vitality of spirit….
"Just think about it, Evans," he concluded shortly, turning on his heel and walking away before any more traitorously magnanimous thoughts could intrude upon and taint his deliberately hostile perception of Evans.
Lily heaved a sigh of frustration. "Think about what, exactly?" she snapped to Sirius' retreating back, thoroughly confused by their entire encounter.
Sirius turned around, walking backwards with casual ease and grace, his hands shoved carelessly in the front pockets of his trousers. "Just think," he said with an evasive shrug. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."
He turned around, and before Lily could think of anything remotely clever or witty to say, he was gone.
Lily was feeling ornery as she made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, and her dark mood wasn't helped when she spotted Dorcas, Viola, and Helen sitting unsettlingly close to James Potter and the rest of his motley crew. Worse still, the seat her friends had chosen to save for her was directly next to none other than the infamous Sirius Black. Lily spared Sirius a glare – which he failed to notice – before sliding into the seat across from Dorcas and next to Viola and Sirius. She began piling her plate with heaping amounts of food, shoveling forkfuls haphazardly into her mouth at a rapid pace in an unsubtle attempt to avoid being drawn into any more unwanted conversation. James Potter was watching her keenly, seemingly amused by her medieval eating habits. Lily felt her stomach give an inexplicable lurch at the sight of him and looked away quickly, her flushed cheeks bulging with an especially large mouthful of mashed potatoes. She turned her attention to her friends.
Viola and Helen were discussing the impending Quidditch match, as Viola was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team and lived and breathed all things Quidditch. Dorcas and Remus Lupin, who were sitting next to each other, were discussing something in hushed tones, heads bowed together in a decidedly conspiratorial fashion. Lily cast them a suspicious glance before turning to Viola and Helen and tuning into their conversation a bit halfheartedly; she had never much cared for broomsticks or Quidditch.
"James was a bit off at practice today," Viola was confiding worriedly, casting occasional sidelong glances in James' direction. "If he doesn't get his act together by next Saturday, Slytherin will flatten us, and we'll be knocked out of the running for the Cup."
"But on the plus side," Lily quipped helpfully, "maybe Potter will fall from his broom and plunge to an unfortunate and untimely death."
She smiled blissfully, vividly imagining Potter's hypothetical demise, and shoveled a bite of steak and kidney pie into her mouth.
"Why would you say that, Lily?" Viola asked reproachfully, failing to see the humor in any scenario that resulted in the loss of the Quidditch Cup. "He's our best player."
Dorcas looked up from her conversation with Remus and narrowed her eyes dangerously at Lily. "Don't mind Lils, Viola; she's just a tad disgruntled that snogging James in the common room last night didn't result in an uninhibited night of wild, animal shagging by the fireside."
Lily, who had been about to swallow the last of her rather large bite of food, started violently choking, her face reddening and her eyes watering as she sputtered and coughed incoherently, glaring daggers at Dorcas' deceivingly blameless face. Viola and Helen stared at her dumbly; Dorcas smiled innocently; Sirius was grinning with unrepressed glee; Remus and Peter looked vaguely concerned; and James was standing up, walking 'round to Lily's side of the table, and kneeling down next to her chair. He patted her lightly on the back and offered her a goblet of pumpkin juice, which Lily took gratefully with shaking hands. She took a swig of juice and turned to James, the last of her coughs subsiding.
James grinned at her. "All right there, Evans?"
"Smashing," she rasped in reply, wondering vaguely why being in such close proximity to James Potter was making her feel so light-headed and heady.
It had to be the near-death experience, she concluded weakly, not entirely convinced by her muddled mind's flimsy justifications.
"Next time, try smaller bites," he advised, patting her on the head and running a lingering hand through her hair as he rose and sauntered back to his seat.
Lily hated the way he walked – like he had all the time and all the confidence in the world – like he knew you were looking at him, and by Merlin, he liked it, attention-seeking prat that he was.
It was maddening – and kind of sexy.
Treacherous thoughts of this nature seemed to be cropping up in her mind with increasing frequency of late, Lily reflected dully, watching as James slid into his seat and quirked an inquisitive and cocky eyebrow at her blatant staring.
She tore her eyes regretfully from James and turned back to Dorcas, who had a knowing smirk plastered on her face. She bore a striking resemblance to Sirius at that moment, and Lily shuddered inwardly.
"You-" Lily began calmly, uncomfortably aware that Viola, Helen, and all four Marauders were listening intently. "I will kill you. I will kill you, Dorcas Meadowes, and you will die a horrible, painful death, and you will go to Hell, and I will celebrate, and I will dance on your grave."
"I'll save you a seat, Lils," Dorcas said with a giggle, raising her goblet to Lily in a mock toast.
Lily glared rather unconvincingly. "I know where you sleep, Meadowes."
"Well, it's nice to see you've finally caught on, after seven years of sleeping in the same room as one another. I had despaired of your ever making that brilliant leap of ingenuity."
Lily couldn't resist cracking a reluctant smile. Dorcas Meadowes always held her own in the department of witty repartee. She was almost as worthy an opponent as James Potter.
"All right, point for Dorcas," Lily conceded grudgingly, rising from the table and waiting for Dorcas, Helen, and Viola to do the same. "You're a clever little minx tonight. Have you been practicing?"
James watched as the four girls exited the Great Hall, stopping by the Ravenclaw table to say something to Margaret, their fifth roommate who often ate dinner with her Ravenclaw boyfriend.
Remus cleared his throat and smiled slyly at James. "At least you don't have to wonder anymore if Lily remembers what happened last night. Dorcas seemed to take care of that well enough."
He conveniently left out his and Dorcas' mutual collaboration in making sure Lily's and James' escapade was mentioned in front of the two as soon as possible in order to avoid any future hemming and hawing that might occur over the delightfully awkward situation. Dorcas had taken care of that beautifully, Remus thought with approval. It was out in the open now, and sooner or later, Lily and James would be forced to acknowledge their situation and whatever ridiculously compartmentalized emotions it seemed to entail.
"Well, she wasn't exactly flipping cartwheels at the revelation," James muttered glumly, staring after Lily's retreating back. "She barely said two words to me."
"Actually," Peter supplied helpfully, "She only said one word to you."
It was with great pleasure that James knocked Peter out of his seat and onto the cold, stone floor of the Great Hall.
Lily made her way down to the entrance hall with dragging feet. She was in no mood to make the castle rounds, but it was one of those unfortunate Head Girl duties that was – sadly – unavoidable. She wondered briefly who her partner would be for the night; she had forgotten to glance at the schedule as she'd hurried down from Gryffindor Tower. Well, she thought grimly, no matter; as long as it wasn't—
"Lilykins!"
The unmistakable, discordant tenor of James Potter's voice echoed mercilessly throughout the entrance hall.
Lily turned slowly, closing her eyes and wondering briefly why her mind bothered feigning surprise after the day she'd just endured. It wasn't enough that she'd been accosted by Sirius Black in the library and been served what amounted to an unofficial death threat. It wasn't enough that Dorcas had said the words "Lily," "James," and "animal shagging" in the same sentence when all Lily had been trying do was innocently and unobtrusively eat a bite of steak and kidney pie. It wasn't enough that she'd endured constant ribbing from her friends all the way up to and into Gryffindor Tower afterward. No; all that wasn't enough….
James Potter simply had to be her partner for tonight's rounds of the castle, on top of all the aforementioned grievances.
James, meanwhile, in typical James fashion, had decided that the best way to deal with this tenuous situation was to grab the metaphorical bull by the horns and be as obnoxiously overbearing as possible. Otherwise, he felt sure, Evans would be avoiding him for months, and that simply wouldn't do. James had grown far too accustomed to her scowling face and caustic and biting tongue.
He skipped down the remaining steps of the marble staircase and skidded to a halt in front of Lily, positively beaming at her obvious discomfort, apparent in everything from her furrowed brow, carefully veiled eyes, and pursed lips to her ramrod straight posture and crossed arms. Immediately, James had taken control of the situation. Lily was on the defensive; James had possession of the Quaffle, so to speak.
He was the Chaser to her Keeper, and he was more than willing to try scoring a few times on a charmingly cantankerous Lily Evans….
Disturbingly enough, James Potter's recurrent Quidditch analogies often ended up interspersed and jumbled with lewd sexual innuendoes – and as many of James' sexual conquests could testify, his lines of seduction often ended in graphic references to illicit broomstick riding and searches for the "Golden Snatch."
But perhaps what was most disturbing was that these loosely termed "lines of seduction" generally seemed to work on the vast majority of Hogwarts' female population.
"You look surprised to see me, Evans," James said genially, turning to walk with Lily back up the marble staircase and toward their designated area of patrol. "Surely you noticed it was none other than the enchanting James Potter who would be accompanying you on tonight's tour of duty?"
Lily grunted inarticulately, and James leaned closer, so close that Lily could smell his soap or his cologne or whatever it was that made him smell so damn spicy and good. She took a step away from James, putting a reasonably safe distance between the two, and tried desperately to maintain a regular, healthy breathing pattern. It wouldn't do to pass out from a lack of oxygen while patrolling with Potter; he might deem it appropriate to give her mouth-to-mouth… a rogue thought which only served to make Lily's breathing more shallow and irregular, of course.
"I'm afraid I didn't quite understand your incoherent mumbling, dear Lily, flower of my heart."
He was really laying it on thick tonight, he thought with satisfaction, giving himself a mental pat on the back. He had almost forgotten how fun this was – it'd been so long since he'd done it properly.
Lily was staring curiously at James from the corner of her eye now. Something was off tonight. James was treating her with a certain endearing comicality that she hadn't seen since the end of their fifth year. It was slightly different now – more mature, more – well – attractive – and Lily was slightly horrified to find she was enjoying it – moreover, she had missed it.
There was no denying that James Potter had changed and matured from the eleven-year-old wanker Lily had first had the displeasure of meeting on platform nine and three quarters over six years ago. The boy who had once relentlessly tormented those students who were weaker, less intelligent, and less socially inept than he had long ago been replaced by someone far more – or a bit more, at least – considerate and kind. Though it couldn't be refuted that he was still inexplicably popular with all girls third year and up, his incessant attempts at deliberately capturing their attention and impressing them with his rakish and "irresistible" – Lily scoffed at this description – charm had ceased almost entirely. The Marauders, as they still insisted on calling themselves, had persisted in their pranks, but they were no longer intentionally cruel; their laughs no longer came solely at the expense of some unfortunate and unsuspecting victim's debasement and humiliation.
The only person who had not benefited from James' evolution of character, in fact, was Lily Evans.
Tensions had shifted subtly between Lily and James the beginning of their sixth year – a shift Lily had been quick to notice and startled to find she minded. Gone were James' dogged and endearing requests for a date to Hogsmeade. Gone were his surreptitious glances at her in classes and the overly chivalric gestures of adoration he had once regularly exhibited whenever he felt the occasion called for it – which, as all of Hogwarts had at some point witnessed, had been embarrassingly often. In fact, this new James barely acknowledged Lily's presence at all. They had seldom spoken that year, and Lily had just begun adjusting to the startling revelation that James Potter might actually have left her life for good when suddenly – and shockingly – James had been appointed Head Boy to her Head Girl, and he had come plummeting back into her life – full force and none too kindly.
Lily had never been a cruel person, but this new James brought out the absolute worst in her, and the beginning of their seventh year had brought forth a new and alarming intensity to Lily's and James' frequent public spats and all-out quarrels. She was scathing; he was cruel. They had pulled no punches this year, and Lily was justifiably shocked that for the first time in over a year, James Potter appeared to be flirting with her.
Of course, it was highly possible that she had encouraged the resurfacing of James' schoolboy crush when she'd all but thrown herself at him in the common room last night.
But there, it wouldn't do to mull on that embarrassing incident. Repress, Lily, she advised herself severely. It's all about repression.
James, who had noticed the creeping blush in Lily's cheeks, smiled widely.
"You're blushing, Evans," he taunted softly, inching closer to Lily so their sides now brushed lightly with each muffled step they took down the narrow, darkened corridor. To his immense satisfaction, Lily didn't step away immediately; he was making progress. "What's going on in that deliciously dirty mind of yours?"
Lily was scarlet now. She scowled at James. "In no shape, form, or fashion do any of my 'deliciously dirty' thoughts concern you, Potter," she said in what she hoped was a scathing and convincing tone.
James didn't falter. "Oh, but I beg to differ, my beautiful Tiger Lily. For all I know, you could be reliving certain events of last night." He paused theatrically, gazing down at Lily's crimson face fondly. "Or don't you remember? You kissed me last night, Evans, and forgive my effrontery," he continued, not sounding very sorry at all, "but from my limited perspective, you seemed to enjoy it."
Lily stopped walking abruptly, gazing up in disbelief at James' shadowy face in the dimly lit hallway.
"You are unbelievable," she said flatly, crossing her arms and leaning back against a roughly textured tapestry.
James shrugged his shoulders lazily. "It was only a subjective observation."
"I was drunk, Potter," Lily practically spat, her earlier affection for James evaporating immediately in the face of this new humiliation. "I would have made out with Snape had the opportunity arisen. Don't let it go to your already overly inflated ego."
"I think you're lying, Evans," James intoned softly, mockingly, taking a step closer to Lily and reaching out to gently toy with a stray lock of auburn hair.
Once again, Lily was overcome by the increasingly familiar sensation that all the air was being sucked from the room – or corridor, as it were. She swatted James' hand away from her hair and pushed her hands against his chest in a feeble attempt at shoving him away from her person. But James was not to be deterred.
"Are you telling me," he inquired slowly, so close to her face now that his warm breath tickled her cheek, "that if I were to kiss you right now, you wouldn't like it?" Lily nodded her head wordlessly, not quite sure what she was trying to communicate, and James chuckled lightly, murmuring, "You are unbelievable, Evans."
If Lily had been able to form any semblance of logical thought at that moment, she would have wondered what on Earth she'd done to get herself into this sticky situation. The answer was obvious of course; she had kissed James Potter, and now that one night of drunken snogging was going to haunt her forever.
As it were, however, Lily was in no frame of mind to actively think, and all she could do was widen her eyes and part her lips slightly as James leaned ever closer and sought her lips with his. Her eyes fell shut involuntarily as James began kissing her with a lazy languor and gentleness that hadn't been present in the previous night's frenzied, almost messy kisses. And just as Lily was about to open her mouth and deepen their achingly slow, shallow kiss, James pulled away, looking down at Lily with a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"How was that?" he asked innocently.
Lily gurgled eloquently in response, shoving James backwards against the opposite wall and kissing him with such overwhelming intimacy and intensity that it shocked both of them. James' hands snaked around her waist, grasping her tightly so her body was flush against his. Lily leaned into him, tangling her hands into his messy hair, trying not to pass out as something hot, like liquid fire, surged through her body and settled low in her stomach.
This was what kissing was supposed to be like, some useless part of her brain yammered elatedly. This was what she had read about and scoffed at in ridiculous Muggle romance novels. This was what she had hoped for and never received from her previous snogging partners. It was overpowering and heartbreakingly intimate and so perfect, and Lily was sure her knees were going to buckle at any moment, so she leaned more heavily into James' warm, surprisingly muscular (for someone so lanky and downright skinny) body, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and deepening their kiss.
And then, altogether too soon for Lily's liking, James was pushing her away, straightening his rumpled robes and smoothing down Lily's tousled and tangled hair.
"Well, it certainly seemed like you enjoyed that, Evans," he said with casual and lightly mocking levity in his voice, turning away from Lily entirely and beginning the trek back toward Gryffindor Tower without another word.
Lily stood still for a moment, watching mutely as James rounded a corner and disappeared from view. She was utterly bewildered, her mind moving at a sluggishly slow pace, and it was a moment before she could will her legs to work and follow behind James at a safe distance, torn equally between two conflicting urges – either to viciously slap or viciously snog him senseless.
And just like that, tensions shifted once more in the increasingly nebulous relationship between Lily Evans and James Potter.
Now, when you work it out I'm worse than you.
Yeah, when you work it out, I want it, too.
Now when you work out where to draw the line;
Your guess is as good as mine...
A/N: Well, this is what I did today instead of studying/eating/sleeping/generally making myself a productive member of society. It was actually hard and took me forever. As such, I hope you like it. Otherwise it will have been for nothing.
P.S. I laughed myself silly over the phrase "Golden Snatch."
It was too much for me.