A/N: HEY, IS THAT MINA, UPDATING BEFORE THREE WEEKS HAVE PASSED?

Yes. Yes, it is.

As always,
Mina ;)

TWENTY: AFFAIR

"Nothing about you is typical
Nothing about you is predictable
You’ve got me all twisted and confused
(It’s all new)
Up 'til now, I thought I knew love
Nothing to lose and it's damaged 'cause
Patterns will fall as quick as I do, but now

Bridges are burning
Baby, I’m learning a new way of thinking now
Love, I can see nothing will be just like it was
Is that because

Baby, you’re so unusual
Didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to break my heart?
I expect you to; so why haven’t you?"

- Britney Spears, "Unusual You"

Remember the last time James had turned me down? That single event that had opened the whole can of worms that was our strange, blossoming relationship? I think he was figuring out a system: turn Lily away, wait until she drives herself to desperation, and then be ready when she runs, flailing and frantic, back.

Bloody genius. Why? Because it was working.

I didn’t know if that was his plan - whether or not he realized that this was what had basically happened when we started this whole mess was up in the air - but I’ll be damned if my heart didn’t fall to pieces when Remus came to pick me up instead. It was cruel, if he was doing this on purpose, but it did make me realize that I had to give in order to take.

Pretty unfortunate that I had to be hurt in order to learn anything, but hey, such is life.

Once Remus yanked us through space (James and I got in an argument about this once, actually, about where exactly you went during Apparation, when between one point and the other; James said it was something like time, I said it was space; the whole thing ended up with us not speaking to one another for a week), I felt us land on the other side on something that felt like grass.

Coming out of Apparition always made me queasy. Straightening and making sure everything was in place, we turned.

The Apparition point turned out to be at the front gate, right on the lawn, which gave us a pretty good view of the front façade of the mansion - which I’m sure was the point.

And it was very well received. It looked like the place had literally exploded with light.

It looked like something out of a movie. The house-manor-mansion reminded me of one of those period pieces where the men wore cravats and the women were expected to know how to sew and cook and draw and sing (which was unfortunate, since I knew how to do, oh, none of those). Even so, it was gorgeous. Every window was lit, dim lights hung in trees along the borders of their property, and there were charmed orbs floating around the path to the entranceway.

Impressive.

If I hadn’t been so entranced by the glow and the beautiful summer night, the fact that my kind-of-boyfriend lived in a bloody mansion probably would’ve hit home.

“They - they really went all out on this, didn’t they,” I murmured to Remus, clutching his arm as a woman in a tight black dress popped into existence and power-walked her way past us. It was just - I mean - holy hell. The building was two stories tall, and every single window was lit. I couldn’t get over it.

Mum would have a heart attack at the thought of that utilities bill.

“I hope you didn’t expect less grandeur,” Remus said with a surprisingly impressive smirk. It worried me; clearly he was spending too much time with those guys. “Come on, Mrs. Potter demanded me to bring you straight to her once we arrived.”

He led me down the path, nodding at two house elves that were standing nearby. Their property, from what I could tell, was enormous. Surrounded on all sides by tall, thick trees, it was as if the home had been sat down right in the middle of the forest. I could picture it here, in the winter, with everything blanketed by a fresh snowfall, the sky gray and serene, the grounds a perfect expanse of white…

A quiet smile touched my lips. Maybe I’d get to see that one day. Maybe this would all go so well that his mother would invite me back for Christmas and I would refuse, at first, but James would convince me otherwise because of course we should be spending Christmas together; we were doing just wonderfully.

The voice inside my head groaned. James, what’s going on?

“You’re not going to tell me where he is, are you,” I tried again, shaking Remus’ arm.

He chuckled. “Nope. I am your date for now.”

“This really isn’t fair. When have I ever kept secrets from you? Huh, Remus?” I put my hand on my chest and pretended to wipe away a tear with the other. “And here you are keeping all these secrets from me.”

He tripped.

Luckily he didn’t go very far - it was just a quick stumble, probably over one of the bricks we were walking on. Even in flat shoes they had to be treacherous, and I was wobbling down them in heels.

Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Where women fear not walkways that threaten to fell them!

I giggled to myself.

“Uh, sorry about that,” Remus said, regaining my arm. He cleared his throat. “Well, um… When we get up here, they’re going to check your wand and make sure you don’t have anything on you. They did it to me when I first got here, too; it’s not a big deal. Formalities.”

I nearly tripped, not because of his obvious subject change, but because of what I was wearing. They wanted to check that I didn’t have anything on me?

I looked down at the gown that was nearly stuck to my skin - it was snug from my hips up - and back at Remus.

“Are they going to frisk me?”

He chuckled, wordlessly letting my arm go as we finally reached the tall entryway.

This did not give me any hope on the frisking issue.

We reached the entranceway in silence. On either side of the door there were two men dressed in deep robes of navy blue who did not smile or nod a greeting as we reached them. I suppose they were Aurorors, though I’d never seen an Auror in person before, but who else would they be? The bald one on the right, closest to me, wordlessly held out his hand. If I hadn’t already been prompted, I probably would’ve given him my hand to shake, probably would’ve made a fool of myself before even stepping foot in the door.

Which would’ve shouted to the world, Look here, it’s a muggle-born!

As it was, I finagled my wand out of a little slit at my hip and placed it into his palm. The man performed some kind of analysis on it with his own wand, did a weird kind of movement in front of me which I guess “checked” me for any dangerous or malignant spells or what have you, wrote something on a piece of paper, and then handed my wand back to me.

“Have a good night,” he grumbled.

I nodded, looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I regained Remus’ arm, and walked away as quickly as my heels would allow. No awkward frisking! Victory!

“Why is that a formality? They really don’t think anything is going to happen tonight, do they?” I whispered to Remus. We followed a couple in front of us through the foyer. “Is that likely?”

“It’s not unlikely,” he whispered back, slowing as he allowed me to look around.

The front entranceway opened up into the foyer with a magnificent, glittering chandelier, a grand staircase, and white marble floors. The walls were a light gold color, almost white, and as we went down a hallway and followed the sounds of music and people talking, I wondered where the gala would be taking place, since I had never asked.

It turned out to be a ballroom right off the hallway.

James had a ballroom in his house.

It was very much like the foyer, save several more chandeliers and, um, quite a lot more people. With high ceilings and large windows against the far wall, it seemed as if it were bigger than it really was; there were tables littered around the room with a long, stretching buffet in the corner; and a stage was set up as well, where a small quartet was playing soft classical music. People were mingling with one another, dancing, eating, laughing; all around the room were faces I didn’t recognize, but faces that were warm and welcome.

And there was more light. Light everywhere. More floating orbs, floating candles, small flames in sconces on the walls. It wasn’t an obnoxious light, though - it was the kind of light I wanted in a future home. Kind of a dim light. I know that’s contradictory, but it was the kind of light that you find on a spring day when the sun sits at just the right angle in the sky and makes you think that the world really is a beautiful place after all. It was the kind of pleasant light that you want to sink into, the kind that makes you feel at peace, very safe and at home.

I felt myself growing more calm. The anxiety that James wasn’t happy with me was still there, but it was dulled and nearly replaced with something familiar to faith. He’d find me here eventually.

But still, the awe was running strong.

“You get that feeling?” Remus was gazing at me with that look in his eyes. Small and insignificant. He and I, though not the same, were similar in that we didn’t come from wealth or blood like this.

Nothing like this.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… wow.”

“My first reaction, too,” he said, tugging at his collar. “It’s strange being here; I feel sorely out of place. James says you get used to it, but I don’t know…”

I did a quick, hopefully unnoticed scan of the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

And I tried not to be so disappointed, because it was all so beautiful and wow, but - just - it would’ve been perfect had James been there. Remus was a wonderful friend and I appreciated him being there for me and not leaving me to do this by myself, but… I was selfish. Surprise!

I missed James. Congratulations, Universe. You win.

“He’ll be around somewhere,” Remus said, noticeably not doing any looking-around.

I realize he had been here already today and had seen all of the well-dressed people and the tablecloths that probably cost more than my house, but he could’ve at least pretended like he didn’t know what was going on.

“Yes, well.” I’d spare him, just this once. “Let’s go find Mrs. Potter then.”

Weaving through groups of guests, I had almost given up and was close - this close! - to standing up on a chair and looking around for her that way.

Thankfully Dorcas saved me from committing this faux pas, as she so often did. I would be the epitome of a societal dumbass if not for her.

“Look at you!” she said as she emerged from behind a rather large man dressed in a rather ugly shade of mustard. Grinning, she leaned down to kiss my cheek. “All dressed and in one piece! You look stunning.”

“Look at you!” I said. I made her turn, her blue dressing gown and long, curled hair catching the air, and I could see her fitting in here, mingling with the best of them with her perfect self.

I wasn’t jealous.

Really.

“Where’s James?” she asked us, pecking Remus on the cheek as well. “He hasn’t shown yet?”

A terrible moment of silence passed between the three of us as several things were realized. I realized that there was something funny going on they that all knew and I didn’t, Dorcas realized that I hadn’t been filled in yet, and Remus realized that he was probably going to get in some amount of trouble by one or more of his friends on this night.

“Has he gone somewhere?” I asked them both.

They both turned uneasy.

“I can’t believe you two! Keeping secrets from me when you know I worry - ”

“Shiv’s not here either. I haven’t seen her anywhere - ”

“Lily, dear! I’m so glad that you’re here.”

I turned, pasting on a smile that I hoped would impress. “Mrs. Potter, it’s lovely to see you again.”

She laughed. “Please, dear. Call me Elaine.”

It must be mentioned again how beautiful Elaine Potter was. I knew that she was older than my parents - who weren’t exactly old, per se, but when wizarding folk live much longer than muggles do, I guess they seemed so - but the years were definitely being kind to her. Her gown was a deep purple and very elegant, something I’d imagine a queen would wear, but Mrs. Potter wore it with a simple humility that I admired.

She knew she was beautiful, she just wasn’t flaunting it. It made me stand up a little straighter.

And beside her had to be Mr. Potter. He was tall. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with eyes that contained so much mischief that I worried about drinking anything from the punch bowl. Where James looked exactly like his mother, it was his father, I assumed, that leant him that eternal wild spirit.

After Mrs. Potter gave me a gentle hug, Mr. Potter reached for my hand. “Call me Harold. It’s wonderful to finally meet the girl of my son’s dreams. You’re welcome here, Miss Lily, any time you want.”

I blushed for both James and myself.

“Thank you,” I managed to murmur, repressing the urge to drop into a curtsy.

“You haven’t seen my son around, have you?” Elaine asked, holding Harold’s arm in order to look around the room. “That miscreant; he’s going to give me a fit one of these days if he doesn’t keep still for a moment.”

“I haven’t,” I said. “Not all night, as a matter of fact.”

Harold frowned down at me. “He didn’t escort you here?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“No,” I said. I turned to Remus and Dorcas, who were looking anywhere but at me, and hissed, “You’re lying to his mother?”

Dorcas looked very, very, appropriately guilty. “We had to!”

“Why don’t you three enjoy yourselves, then,” Elaine said, keeping up her hostess smile. “Find me again when James comes ‘round, will you?”

I nodded. When she and Harold stepped away, I turned on my horrible excuses for friends.

“There is a very special place in Hell reserved for the both of you,” I whispered fiercely, both exasperated and wrongly amused at the humored smiles that twitched at their lips. “I’m serious. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I swear I am going to tell her - ”

“Lily, don’t - ”

Remus waved his arms in a shushing manner. He grabbed my hands, left Dorcas with an eye-roll that I guess communicated their long, eternal suffering of dealing with my temper, and whisked me onto the dance floor. It was a lively waltz, and we stumbled around wordlessly for a long moment while we tried to find our rhythm.

“Will you please be patient, Lily?” he said after apologizing for stepping on my foot. “You know James, and you know he’s not going to… He’ll be here, alright? He promised you that.”

I couldn’t look at him. Over his shoulder, as we turned, I saw Dorcas weaving her way through the crowd to get to an empty table. By the buffet, a woman who looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall - was McGonagall here? Really? - was talking to a gesturing short-statured woman with long black hair. Black hair like James’…

“He promises a lot of things,” I grumbled to Remus.

Selfish and impatient. I know. But I missed him, you see? And because he knew the system - at least, I think he did - he knew what it was he was doing to me. Yeah, it was working; the infallible Lily Evans had finally fallen for his charms. You may say what you like, but if you were in my position…

Well, I’m sure you’d want to see him just as badly.

Remus shook me again, very lightly, and brought my eyes back to him. His voice, though soft, was stern. “Hey. He will be here, alright? He had to take care of something.”

“Take care of what?” I wheedled, sighing as the tempo of the song finally slowed. “What does he have to do that’s more important than…”

And here came my selfishness again. I wanted to say me. What does he have to do that’s more important than me, but God, was that selfish. I didn’t know what was going on, but if James had abandoned me for it, maybe it was because it was more important than me. Which shouldn’t give me a complex, because there are a lot of things in life that are more important than I am - like family, like somebody in trouble, like Voldemort.

“Is someone hurt?” I asked.

Remus’ hand tightened ever so slightly on my waist. We weren’t following the beat anymore. I looked up.

“I hope not,” he said.

But the doubt was placed.

“Remus.”

“Lily, please - ”

“Remus!”

“I - I can’t. It’s not - ”

This time when Dorcas caught my eye over Remus’ shoulder, it was because all six feet of her was hopping up and down, trying to get my attention. I hoped nobody had noticed her. Talk about embarrassing.

Oven wear! she mouthed to me, pointing subtly to our right.

Oven wear? I mouthed back, frowning my confusion.

Remus turned his head around, too, wondering, I knew, who was trying to communicate to me from across the room when the only option was obvious.

Dorcas rolled her eyes, shook her head no, and then pointed more vigorously. Over THERE!

I turned to look over there.

And there he was.

I don’t know how I saw him so easily through the mass of people between the dance floor and the entrance to the ballroom, but it was like tunnel vision. There was no choir of angels or a slow-motion entrance, but my stomach did knot itself up quite a bit in anticipation and excitement and relief and anger and curiosity, though, and I think I hiccupped because his appearance was so sudden, and, yeah, my feet froze to the floor, causing Remus to bump into me awkwardly, but I was a picture of composure.

All those times that he has stared at me wordlessly suddenly made sense. I got it. It was clear.

Because God was he handsome.

He was in black from head to toe save for a white pressed shirt and burgundy tie that matched my dress. I’d never seen him in something so tidy; even in school, his white shirts were always wrinkled and unbuckled, but when he wore it under those black dress robes?

Guh.

His hair, as I had expected, was crazy and sprouted in all directions with no order. It looked like he hadn’t even tried to tame it. And that smile!

I was actually very happy to see him and that grin, despite everything, until I saw that his hand was connected to another hand, and that hand was connected to a dainty, bangled wrist, and that wrist was connected to a woman’s arm, which was, of course, connected to a woman.

Remus made some kind of sound between a grunt and a whine. “Oh, Prongs…”

But it was fine. It was fine. She was just a beautiful blonde girl in a beautiful orange dress who was holding my kind-of-boyfriend’s stupid hand. And I knew that he and I looked more perfect together than they did, although she was the beautiful kind of beautiful, while I was just that modest kind of pretty if you squinted your eyes and turned your head to a certain angle. And I also knew that, when he turned away from her and sneezed very loudly, her laugh wasn’t the most adorable thing ever.

I trusted James.

I did.

“It’s fine,” I told Remus. I smiled at him and none-too-gently pushed him into another dance. It was a quick one again, and while we busied ourselves with pretending to focus on our footwork and the tempo of the strings and bass, I knew we were both focused solely on the other side of the room and not on each other.

Remus shook his head. “That was not what he was doing, I swear - ”

“It’s fine, Remus! It’s fine,” I said, gripping his shoulder as we spun. “I’m working on trust, so I trust him. It’s probably not how it looks, I know that - ”

“That’s good, because it’s not - ”

A hand grabbed my arm. “Lily!”

Remus and I stopped spinning. It was like throwing a wrench into turning cogs - the whole machine jerked to a stop, leaving everything attached whirling and dizzy. As I stared up at James, Remus stole away, conspicuously giving us our space and escaping a telling-to. It was a smart move.

“Hey, you,” James said, his hand warm on my back.

It was worse up close. He even smelled wonderful. I wanted to jump his bones. I had never wanted to jump Potter’s bones before, so the urge felt something like nausea.

“Hi,” I said.

Was I supposed to be angry with him for not coming for me? Upset that he was flirting - okay, Lily, that is an absurd overreaction - with that woman in orange? Happy that he was finally here? Irritated that he was keeping secrets from me when he was so disappointed in me yesterday for not trusting him?

“We should probably move out of the way,” he said, pulling me along, out of the way of the dancers. “And I should probably explain - ”

“No, it’s fine, she’s just a girl; I trust you, I do, James - ”

His eyebrows did a funny little dance on his forehead, moving between amusement, confusion, and frustration easily. I don’t know which one he had settled on, but when he asked, “What girl?” I think it might’ve been deception.

“It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re here,” I said, brushing it off. Jealousy is not becoming, Lily. “Where’ve you been?”

Neither is nagging.

“Uh, about that - ” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Remus said someone might be hurt. Please don’t lie to me.”

His lips tightened and his gaze left me, presumably looking around for his traitorous friend. “Remus told you that?”

I sighed. “No. He wouldn’t tell me anything, actually - he was very invested in protecting his honor and his stupid, brash friends, and who am I to break a thick skull like that? I’m only - ”

“You’re only my girlfriend, and don’t insist otherwise,” James murmured, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Melting. I understood, then, what it felt like when people say they ‘melt’ into someone’s arms. We were in the middle of everyone, just on the corner of the dance floor, just beside the buffet and right beside what looked like a large group of dignitaries in very expensive attire. Before, when I cared, I probably would’ve been embarrassed to be seen as one of those teenagers that can’t keep their hands off of each other, but I think that, in the time I had known James like this, I had thrown that away.

I rested my head on his chest and wove my arms around his skinny waist. “I’m sorry for… I’m sorry for being a duffer.”

“You? A duffer?” he said, laughing. Here is where a nice, kind boyfriend would’ve lied. James, however, said, “Only most of the time.”

We stood like that for a prolonged moment. It was nice. There was the soft string music in the background, the dim humming of surrounding conversation, and us. This was the us that I loved - when we were quiet and in-tune with one another, no arguing, no talking. Because, despite our need to fight, we also knew one another through our silences.

It was then, only because I was hyperaware and we were pressed very closely together, that I noticed the rapid pace of his heartbeat and the antsy tapping of his fingers against the small of my back.

Oh, and the surging heat right next to my temple.

“What is that?” I asked, pulling away cautiously.

He looked down at his chest as if he didn’t feel it there. “What is what?”

“James.”

“I - ” And then I saw an outline of a rectangular object nearly steaming through his robes. “Ahh, shit. Uh, come on. Grab my hand. And your dress; don’t want to be - God, shit! Hurry - ”

I didn’t ask. It was safer not to ask. Instead, I took his hand and followed him as we dashed for the door to the hall, roughly shoving past the young woman in black that had sped into the house when Remus and I had just arrived. James kept tugging me onward, but I turned and tried to apologize, getting out a hurried, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sor - ” before we turned a corner and her scowling face disappeared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” James muttered, dropping my hand.

We were still walking fast, moving farther down the hallway where it was less lightlightlight and more homey. I was fine with following him wherever he was taking me until he started up a small flight of stairs. My feet would not handle the trek.

I stopped. “James, what the hell is going on?”

He turned with his hands down the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Wincing, he pulled out a silver mirror, glared at it, and marched back down the stairs. There was a door to our left; he ushered me in and locked it behind him.

“I am going to kill him,” he mumbled, tossing the mirror onto a desk. “Look at my robes!”

I was much more interested in the room than his premeditated murder plans or his state of undress - which was a much, much more dangerous thing to be interested in, especially when locked in a room with him - but I turned away from the tall bookshelves of the wood-paneled study and came closer.

Right where the mirror had been, his white, pressed shirt had been melted clean through. The cloth of his black robes was slightly scorched, but overall it’d take just a quick spell to repair. Nothing serious.

Unless he burned himself, which was territory I was not going to let myself explore.

I stepped back. “Did you, um.” Blushing, I motioned to the general area on his chest. “It’s not… You’re fine, right?”

He seemed to get it. He pulled the burned pieces of his robes together and looked properly embarrassed, even though that mischief of his father’s was still lingering deep in his eyes where he thought he was hiding it well. “I’m okay. Most of it got my shirt.”

“That’s… good. Um, what was that about?”

“Uh, speaking of. I should answer that,” he grumbled, picking the mirror back up. I thought he meant my question, but James doesn’t ever answer direct questions, does he, because he tapped the bloody mirror, said “Sirius,” and waited.

I should’ve known. I hadn’t seen him or heard of him all night. Like he wasn’t going to be here!

I should’ve known.

While I stood seething, not sure who, exactly, I was angry at, James held a conversation with the mirror. I remembered those stupid things - they had gotten me in trouble once, and while James and I had served detention in one part of the castle, Sirius, who’d gotten in worse punishment, was in another. Utterly bored and wondering about James’ sanity on the other side of the room - I thought he had been talking to himself - I had snuck over to see what it was.

Why I only remembered that after he started talking to the damn thing was beyond me.

“…everything alright?” I heard James ask as I tuned back in.

“Yeah. Ran into trouble, but I handled it. Nobody’s here.” Sirius’ voice was muffled, but I could hear it from where I was. I crossed my arms and leaned against the desk, glaring at the thing. “Lily there?”

“Yes. She’s here.”

“She cross?”

James slowly looked up at me. “I’d say that’s a safe description, yes.”

“…she’s right there? Ah, hell, James, you prat - ”

“I’m right here,” I said merrily, waving, even though he couldn’t see me. “Hello, Sirius.”

“Heeey, Lily. Uh, sorry? I’ll, uh. I’ll be there shortly, James. Where are you?”

“Dad’s study,” James answered, and tapped the mirror again. When he sat it down on the desk, I saw my red face in the reflection and told myself not to get angry, not to overreact, and not to be the crazy girlfriend. I wasn’t the crazy girlfriend. Earlier, when he was with that girl - which I was not going to mention, because it would be a crazy girlfriend thing to do - I did not fly off the handle like I wanted to. I could be in control here, too.

“Explain,” I said to James. It was calm. I was proud. For a bonus, I added, “Please.”

He sighed. A hand ran through his hair. He paced for a moment, to the door and to the desk, to the door, to the desk, and then held his hands out to the side. He had that look in his eye.

“I trust you,” I said, holding up a hand to interrupt him. “All I want is the truth.”

He raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, then stopped. “Right,” he said. “Because we are trusting now, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. See, Padfoot… you know about his family,” he began, sitting down in one of the armchairs in front of a small fireplace. I followed, making sure I smoothed the skirt of my dress before I sat, and ignored his amused smirk as he watched this. I waved for him to continue.

“And he just - sometimes he can’t take it anymore. Sometimes I can’t take it any more, and they’re not even my family. I mean, you saw him a few weeks ago, all pissed and bruised to hell - that is what he lives with. So, last night, after rowing with those people again, he just… left.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Here,” James said, as if saying where else would he go? “Tonight he went back to get some of his stuff - you know, his broom, important books, pictures, letters, money. We figured it’d be best for him to go now, because they’re having a shindig, too, and we figured nobody would be there, but… I had to make sure he got there alright. Luckily nobody was home.”

Poor Sirius, I thought, watching through James’ eyes the way they both felt. Sirius was so - he was so - he was Sirius. Yeah, he was infuriating and stupid and a big bloody mess at times, but he was also so very loyal and kind-hearted when he wanted to be, and he cared so deeply for those he loved that sometimes it was insane. It hurt me to think that his family was wearing that away, and though he had to leave his only family to escape that, I was glad that he did it.

I couldn’t be mad at James for that.

“They didn’t hurt him, did they? He’ll get back here safe, right?”

He took out his pocket watch. “Yeah,” James said. “He’ll be alright. And look at that, only half past nine.”

I sighed. Look at that.

We were quiet. I could feel his eyes on me, studying and intense. It reminded me so much of our nights in Gryffindor, sitting beside the hearth, working on various pieces of schoolwork and, every few minutes or so, striking up a four- or five-sentence conversation. They were never all that important, and half the time it seemed like he was saying things just to be saying them (“You think Dumbledore wears purple skivvies, too?”), but in between, in our pauses, I felt something else there. It was conversation all on its own, told simply through gestures and movements.

It was another way we worked, I supposed. On the surface was our speech - fighting, arguing, debating, talking, whispering - and then there was another level, one that I had tried to ignore and deny, deny, deny for so long, that ran deeper. It was something we had been unconsciously working on for six years.

I did know him. It was the surface things that I didn’t know, things that didn’t really matter in the long run; what mattered was that I knew how he thought, how he functioned, what it meant when he squinted his eyes in such a way or what he was saying when he gave a long, deep sigh. I could tell what he was thinking when he stared at me like that, and it still brought a blush to my face every time.

We stood at the same time.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.

“You’re a prat,” I mumbled into his chest. “I hope you know.”

He chuckled and twined his arms around me. This time his heart was steady and his fingers were pressed, still, against my back. “I do,” he said, leaning his head back just enough to be able to look down at my face. “And are you going to yell at me if I make a big deal out of this? Because I’m already in enough trouble with you, and Mum’s going to spank me for running off in the middle of her gala.”

The image was priceless.

“Your Mum still spanks you?”

“She may,” he said, completely serious. “And Mum played Quidditch when she was young, so I don’t want to test her. Are you willing to save me from that?”

“Whatever.” I snuck a quick kiss to his chin, just because I could. “And why would I yell at you?”

“You told me not to make a big deal out of your appearance,” he said, sneaking a hand up to rest on the side of my face. His thumb swept underneath my eye, and the mood shifted with the softness of his voice. “You said not to utter a single comment, but I am formally asking permission to.”

“As you please,” I said. I wanted to close my eyes because it was too much - too much in a good way, not overwhelming like it had been before, because I knew how to prepare myself this time - but still overwhelming because I was completely in like with this bloke who I had so detested and who was now watching me with eyes so full of adoration that I wanted to cry. But I kept them open, watching the hazel of his eyes twist into gold and brown and green behind his glasses.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered against my lips.

I slid my hands to his neck, feeling the th-thump-th-thump-th-thump there. Finally I closed my eyes, letting our secondary communication take over just after I caught enough breath to say, “Thank you.”

Because in our silence, as he held my face in the palm of his hand and pressed his lips to mine, I think those two words had meant something more.

At least, the kiss itself was moving towards something more. It was certainly longer than our other kisses - my hands migrated to the back of his head and stayed there, threading through his messy hair with no shame. As I ran my tongue along his bottom lip, his grip tightened on my waist and we started moving backwards until I felt the desk meet the small of my back.

“Up,” he mumbled, unwilling to take his hands from me.

It occurred to me that we were at his mother’s gala. It did. For a second, it’s all I worried about: What about his mother? What about Remus and Dorcas? What about Harold? But he was everywhere, all long fingers and sharp elbows and his lovely lips, and the questions vanished when the second second came by. The second second, much warmer than the first, brought with it a weight in my stomach and this want.

Which, you know. Oh.

I tried not to be afraid of it. I tried to let it take me where it would, because I was in uncharted territory here and because I trusted him with this. I let James help me sit atop his father’s desk - oh, my God, I am becoming one of those desperate women who wants it anywhere they can get it - and then just oh, my God, desperate - and then just Oh, God - and then just oh, because instead of our frenzied kiss, it was slow and thorough now, and his tongue slid across my bottom lip and of course I granted him access, sitting up straighter to allow him to come closer, always closer.

It also occurred to me that, should anybody come looking for us - say, Remus, Dorcas, or somebody like his mother - they’d find us in a very compromising position, with me sitting on Mr. Potter’s desk and James, standing between my knees, leaning down over me. It was bad. Real bad. Really, really, really bad, but then, we locked the door, didn’t we? We did. And -

Oh. And he had a hand on my hip, squeezing gently every time one of us made a sound, which was, God, and I don’t even know what sounds I could’ve been making but snogging James Potter like this was absurdly wonderful and I could see what those girls were talking about, now, and when his other hand left my face and curled around the back of my neck I almost bit his lip off.

Oh.

“Lily.”

I pulled his face roughly against mine. Too much talking. But then he gripped my hip a little too hard and I pulled away, frowning up at him. What? Why must you stop this beautiful, wonderful thing?

“Was that your stomach?” he asked with way too much humor in his voice.

And if it were any more possible to be more red-faced than I already was, I managed it. I looked down at my burgundy covered, gold-embroidered stomach and had to focus through my dazed mind to realize that, yes, my stomach was complaining pretty badly.

I groaned and leaned forward to rest my forehead against his chest. “God.”

“Have you had anything to eat today?”

“Just pancakes,” I replied. I both loved and hated that we could switch so easily from some pretty intense snogging to casual conversation like it was nothing. I didn’t know what that said about us. Maybe that we should practice it more?

My stomach creaked again.

Except it wasn’t my stomach. The first time my stomach rumbled, it hadn’t even sounded like a sound a body organ should be making - which was why I hadn’t even noticed it when James pulled away.

And then there was an amazed whistle coming directly behind James.

No. No. No.

James and I stared at one another, both on the same wavelength, and then I peeked around his shoulder, leaving him to the murder plans, to glare at Sirius.

I’m sure he was taking note of my swollen lips and mussed hair, evident by his evil smirk, especially as he leaned against the edge of the creaking door and crossed his arms.

Smug bastard. Stupid, dirty, smug…

“Sirius! So nice to see you,” I said, pushing James forward so I could stand. He held my forearms as I got to my feet, but left me to my own devices as I crossed the room and punched Sirius in the shoulder.

“You arse.”

He jerked away. “What was that for?”

“You know what that was for, you self-centered - ”

“Hey, hey,” James said, laughing, pulling me away. “Let’s all calm down and - Paddy, did they - what happened to you?”

He was a little worse for the wear and his hair was out of place, which, for him, was unusual, but other than that he looked fine. The bruise on his face actually made him prettier. Pretty Princess Sirius and her stupid, stupid ruining-Lily’s-snogging self.

“I’m fine, Kreacher gave me a little trouble, but - ”

James snorted. “Kreacher? Kreacher gave you a little trouble? Padfoot, really.”

“He did! He’s a clever thing - ”

“Who is Kreacher?” I asked.

Sirius shook his head, his pride wounded. “Nobody - ”

“Kreacher,” James said, slipping his hand around my waist and leading me past Sirius and through the door. He whispered the rest to me, and the feeling of his lips on my ear made me shiver. “Is a house elf.”

My laugh was boisterous and quite obnoxious, bouncing off the high ceilings in the hallway, but it was so worth it to hear him start grumbling behind us. I turned, grinning. “You got your arse kicked by a house elf?”

“Fuck off, Evans.”

James punched Sirius in the same shoulder. “Watch it.”

Sirius glared. “I hate you both.”