The room is dark and smells funny.

"You lost," She states, creeping closer to his lying form on the bed. He groans in response. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't move when she sits on his bed and tentatively lays a hand on his back, his head buried in his pillow. He breathes deeply and slowly turns his head towards her. "What are you doing here?" He asks and she swallows.

"I was worried about you. Thought you'd come up here to kill yourself," She mumbles, rubbing comforting circles on his back, and his breathing becomes deeper.

"I've already killed myself. I've killed myself night and day training this godforsaken team…and this is how they repay me. My beater breaks one of chasers' arm, my other chaser can barely keep the fucking quaffle in his hand for longer than 10 seconds, and the seeker just lets the snitch pass by him!" His voice is muffled by the pillow but she could sense the rage flowing through his veins, his muscles quivering under her fingers.

"You need a better team," She states and he slowly turns around and lies on his back. He has a nasty contusion on his cheek and a gash on his forearm, and she's sure his ribcage must have been bruised because of the way he winced as he turned around. "You look like you're in pain."

He shakes his head. "I can take it. I've been worse," He states, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Thank you," He mutters, "for being here. I needed some company." She smiles lightly and runs a hand through his hair. "That feels nice," He mumbles, his eyes closed. "Lie down with me." He flinches as he shifts in his bed to make room for her.

They lie quietly for a while, his eyes still closed, his breathing slowly getting heavier, and she watches as he falls asleep, her fingers lightly brushing against the bruise on his cheek. Before she knows it, she falls asleep as well.

She wakes up the next morning to the sound of his roommates chattering animatedly. He's already awake and he puts a finger to his lips, motioning her to keep quiet. The curtains are drawn around his bed and she's grateful for it. The endless jibes and sexual innuendos she would have to endure from Sirius for the rest of her life if he ever saw her in James Potter's bed come to mind and she grimaces. What was she thinking falling asleep here?

James must have felt her distress so he puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a small smile, and some soft caresses on her arm, and she can't look away from his face.

Soon enough, his friends leave the room and she slowly gets up. "I should go," she whispers, rubbing tiredly at her eyes and trying to smooth out her wrinkled shirt.

"No, stay," He mutters, tugging at her arm and making her lie back down.

"I can't…what will people say if they saw me coming out of the boys' dormitory so early in the morning? I can't risk that…" She mumbles trying to get up again but he keeps a firm grip on her.

"You're worried about your reputation, is that it? I can get you out of here unseen; you don't have to worry about that. But if it's something else you're concerned about; maybe about what this might mean to you?" His eyes were so dark and smothering and she swallows thickly. His fingers run along her ribcage and she shivers slightly. "I want to kiss you," He states, his warm body sliding closer to hers, "You have no idea how badly I want to… but you say the word and I'll let you go."

Her mind is racing, and her heart is in her throat and her fingers are numb as they slide up to his face, feeling the slight stubble graze her skin. She nods frenziedly, grabbing the front of his shirt to bring his face closer to hers. His lips were dry as they touch hers, sliding awkwardly yet surely.

"Open your mouth," He groans and she immediately complies, his tongue sliding into her warm mouth, touching hers and making shivers run down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. A soft sigh escapes her lips and he deepens the kiss, grabbing her face and running his hands through her hair. She feels she's drowning in fire, her entire body is scorching hot and when she feels how hard he is against her thigh she almost stops breathing.

The kiss gradually slows down, becoming chaster, gossamer touches of the lips, and their breathing calms as he pulls away, rubbing his nose against hers, and all he can think about is how he had to lose at Quidditch to win Lily.