Summary: Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Lily Evans has one that she wishes she didn't. A delicious, sinful little secret desire for someone she shouldn't want. But every once in awhile, it's nice to let go, isn't it? Lily/James, fluffy, minor plot. PG-13.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything thereof belonging to Ms. J. K. Rowling, delightful genius that she is. I am not making any profit off of this, only simply releasing my thought bunnies.


One Skeleton

by Natali K. A.

I had but one skeleton in my closet. One thing I never wanted anyone to know. It was buried, deep within my heart. There were times I even denied it—how could anyone be ok with that? Could you blame me, really?

It's not that it was such a big sin. Well, perhaps it was. It was more of the fact that I knew that it was forbidden; I wanted what I could definitely not have.

Let's face it, I'm everybody's dream girl. Top student, Head Girl, pretty, rocking body, with wine red hair and emerald eyes rare enough to make you weep.

An angel, fallen from grace, wanting something that she shouldn't. That's what I am.

Lily Evans is officially, certainly, and utterly head over heels for James Potter.


"Potter."

James Potter turned around, smiling handsomely at Lily Evans, Head Girl to his Head Boy.

"Want me yet, Evans?"

"Save it. I've got a problem with Robert Duvier in the Gryffindor common room. He's holding about seventeen bras and refuses to let down his Shield Charm. Beat some sense into him, will you?"

James gave her a bored, blank look. "And you can't do it because…?" He raised an eyebrow insubordinately, and she growled.

"Don't do it, Potter, I'll do it myself like I do everything else," she puffed, turning on her heels and getting out her wand. She'd hex Duvier, wasn't any skin off her nose. "Duvier, you can either get your pathetic Sixth Year arse into your room, apologizing to every owner of every bra you've got there, or I'll curse you into next year."

"Go ahead and try," Duvier said smugly, snapping on one of the larger bras. "Oh, someone heavy wears this one."

Lily saw red, but before she could do anything about it, a flash of blue passed her, breaking through the Shield Charm around Duvier and hitting him straight in the chest. The blond haired idiot took a gasp, dropped the bras, and fell flat on his back, unconscious.

"I told you to let me handle it," Lily said, peeved. "Now what are we going to do with him?"

James shrugged. "You're welcome."

"I'm not thankful, why should I say that I am? I told you I was going to take care of it, Potter. Just because I didn't beg you to help me you suddenly think that you should—"

"I was kidding before, relax," he interrupted her, walking over to Duvier. He picked up one of the bras. "This one's yours, I believe?"

A few of the people who had gathered to watch—that is, everyone in Gryffindor Tower—snickered as Lily stepped forward, grabbed the blue bra (which was indeed hers), and shoved James backward. He barely moved.

"Don't get mad at me, I've seen it through your shirt a million times, Evans," he said smoothly, sidestepping her. "Let me know if I've got to clear something else up."

Lily shot daggers at his retreating back, silencing the rest of the snickers with a raised wand. The crowd disintegrated and pretended to look busy immediately.


He was addictive. I think that's what the problem was. I had a taste of him every once in awhile to the fault of Head duties, and I wanted more. I wanted to know what it was like to let go, to do what every skank in Hogwarts was doing. Peer pressure? Possibly. Attraction? I doubt it. I was revolted by him, couldn't stomach what he stood for—demeaning women, lying your way out of problems, getting everything with sex, thinking you're the hot shit.

But every goody-goody's got to have a skeleton, right? This was mine.

It was delicious, looking at him during the weekly Head meetings. We don't even really talk, we just pretend to look busy.

Or he's complaining that I'm docking too many points from Gryffindor and not enough from Slytherin. I respond with the customary, "Tell your mates to stop being idiots".

Every time that he looks at me, I wonder what he's thinking, if his thoughts are as naughty as mine.

It's like doing something I know I shouldn't but want to anyway. Isn't that the appeal in a lot of things? Sex, drinking, drugs. You can't have it, therefore, you want it.

My one skeleton, and it haunts me. Our final year at Hogwarts is almost over, and I'm falling for someone who probably doesn't see me than anything more than somewhere to stick his prick.

What skeletons does he have?


James looked at her over the rim of his glasses, looking through the past week's detentions. She was sitting at the desk with him in the back of the Library, legs tucked neatly under her. Because of the way her body was angled, he could see a clear view of her cleavage.

He groaned uncomfortably.

"What?" she snapped, barely glancing at him. "So sorry if this is boring you. Leave if you'd like."

He glared at her. They were alone in the room, the meeting having been forced to take place later than usual because of an emergency Quidditch practice.

"I'm not, for your information."

"What the bloody hell could James 'Prick' Potter have to sigh about? Too many chits dying to spread their legs for you, mate?" She placed an emphasis on the last word, adding a smirk.

"I was thinking about how well I can see your cleavage from here, if you really must know," he replied instantly, hardly blinking an eye.

She straightened up, heaving a book at his head. He caught it with his hands, but just barely. Quidditch had given him quick reflexes.

"You're such a prat," she told him through gritted teeth. "It's my body, and if I wanted you to see it, I would've let you."

There was a slight, cheeky pause while James slowly let a wolfish grin slide onto his face. "And do you?"

"Do I what?" she retorted.

His response was slow in coming, and the tenor of his voice made a hot blush descend down her body. "Do you want me to see it?"

The way her face shut down gave James a hint that something was the matter.

"No," she muttered, looking back at her list. She'd put up a wall against him.

Many things could be said about James Potter, and they'd all be true. Sexy, great in bed, cocky, conceited, and immature being among the first. He was not, however, an insensitive bastard.

He stood, walked over next to her seat, and lowered to a squat. She avoided his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I mean that. I didn't mean to offend you."

She ignored him.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you're not easy, Evans. I was just kidding with you. But it was very inappropriate and ungentlemanly of me."

"No harm done," she mumbled, still not looking at him. "Could you get me the numbers of House points from the past month? I need to see—"

"Some sort of harm was done," he insisted softly. "Oi, Evans, just look at me." He waited until she complied. "I'm sorry, for whatever it is that's the matter."

"Forget it," she said firmly. "I mean it. Now, could you get me that list?"

James stared at her for a moment before obliging her.

"Thank you," she said, scanning it.

"Something's bugging you, I can tell, you know," he stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Something about me. You're avoiding my eyes. Unless they've relocated to somewhere near my left ear without telling me."

"I'm busy."

"You're avoiding."

She sighed, shutting her eyes in a frustrated gesture. "What do you want me to do, stare deeply into your eyes and proclaim my undying love for you or something just as mad?"

He grinned at her dry humor. "It would be pleasing, I won't lie. Have you ever gotten snogged, Evans?"

She raised a brow at him. "Of course I have. I'd be ridiculously prude if I hadn't gotten kissed by my age."

"No. Snogged. Kissed until you can't feel your body there with you, like you're floating," he elaborated, leaning forward. "Wet, wild, passionate. That's a real snog. I'm sure all your pretty boy boyfriends have kissed you. But have they snogged you?"

Lily looked at him skeptically. "I'm going to sound like a broken record. Of course I've made out with a guy before!"

James shook his head, leaning closer still. "You're still not getting me, Evans. Have you ever had a mind-blowing, hair-raising, spine-melting, toe-curling kiss that left you numb with pleasure?"

As if he'd just given her such a kiss, Lily felt her whole body tingle with anticipation. She struggled not to lose eye contact with him, struggled not to show how entirely pleasant it sounded.

"No."

"I hope you won't be frightened, then, while I feel myself obligated to do such an act to you," he murmured, inches away from her lips.

Their lips touched, and she let him.

It was a brief kiss, and Lily soon drew back. "This is, very strictly, a one time thing. Friends with benefits, if you will, so you can give me that snog you were so avidly describing."

He nodded, leaning in for another kiss. His tongue ran across her bottom lip requesting entrance, and she gave it to him, her mouth opening under his.

It was everything he'd promised it to be. Definitely mind-blowing, hair-raising, spine-melting, and toe-curling. She clung to his lips, feeling herself get lost in it.

A minute later, when he pulled away, Lily was shocked to find herself on the floor in front of him, arms around his neck, and body pressed flush against his.

"Oh."

James smiled at her one word. "I hope it lived up to expectations."

"Um, that would be it, I believe." As common sense rushed back to her, she pushed herself away from him. "Thanks, but I'll be leaving now."

He didn't try to stop her—didn't think it'd make any difference—and watched as she quickly gathered up her stuff and left the library.

James knew that he'd be dreaming about the same thing he dreamt every night: what it would be like to make Lily Evans his girlfriend. Only tonight, he'd at least know what it felt like to kiss her, to feel her body up against his.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. As if the torture couldn't get any worse.


I had thought that would've been the end of it. It was unwise, I'm sure, to allow myself that one moment to have a taste (literally) of what I wanted so much. But I walked out of that library sure that it wasn't such a big mistake. I trusted Potter—oddly enough—and I knew he wouldn't run around the whole sodding school saying I'd kissed him.

But if I thought for one minute that he was going to leave me alone after that night, then I was wrong. More wrong, I think, than I've ever been before in my life.

We'd run into each other, alone, at least twice a week. On Head rounds, or on some other excursion (I think we've both caught each other sneaking around at least 7 different times). Each time that happened, no matter where we were, he'd reach out to me and kiss me. And I would let him.

Honestly, I think I was looking forward to it. And one night, I looked all over the castle for him, and I did not find him. I was pissed, needless to say, and awoke the next morning to find a note on my night table.

"Sorry, I got tied up last night. –J"

It was around that time, I think, that I realized I'd come to depend on those clandestine kisses. I still hadn't told my mates (I hadn't been planning on it, really) and from the way his own friends were treating me, I'd guessed he hadn't either.

It was a month before school was going to end, when I decided for the first time I wouldn't go out on Head duties to make sure everyone was in bed. I needed to study. So I sent out a Prefect instead.

I didn't send him a note apologizing, or drop a hint I wouldn't be leaving my room Saturday night. Yet he still came up at about half-past midnight, furious. With me, I suppose, though he didn't come out and say it.


"When exactly were you planning on telling me that you weren't going to meet me tonight, eh?" James snapped, slamming the door.

Lily was thankful that her roommates were all out partying so that she could be alone to deal with this humiliation.

"I had to study. Last time I checked, I didn't have to tell you my whereabouts," she replied smoothly, not glancing up from her Charms book.

James took a deep breath. "Oh? And you didn't care that I might've thought something had happened to you?"

"What could possibly have happened to—?"

"We've got some bonkers dark wizard killing people left and right, and with you walking around the castle late at night by yourself, and suddenly you're nowhere to be found. What else am I supposed to think?" he ranted, throwing his hands up, pacing to boot. "You've never missed rounds before, and suddenly you up and—"

"James, will you relax?" Lily asked.

This seemed to snap him out of his rant, and he turned to her. "You called me James."

She snorted. "Well, seeing as we've been snogging every time we pass each other in the halls, I figured it'd be ok to call you by your first name."

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her thoughtfully. "When are you expecting the other girls back?"

Lily snickered. "If I know them, tomorrow morning."

He seemed to be considering whether to make or move or not, but she must have really seemed to want to study (which she did) because he nodded before saying, "Would you mind if we studied together? As it happens, I wasn't paying attention in Potions when we went over poisons."

"What were you doing?"

"Plotting how to get Snape to wash his filthy hair."

Lily suppressed a grin. "Fine. Get your books." As he went to get them, a thought occurred to her. "How'd you get up here anyway?"

He turned to her. "The stairs like me. They're female you know. With quite a lot to say, if you've got time to listen. You wouldn't believe what's gone on on them."

"I guess you'll just have to tell me," Lily shrugged. His smile warmed her to her toes.

"I guess so. I'll be back in a minute."

When he returned, he closed the door and began to walk towards her. She looked up expectantly.

"James?"

"Yes?"

"…Lock the door, will you?"


That was quite an interesting night, and we were awoken the following morning by five Seventh Year girls pounding on the door, yelling at me to open it up. I hid him under the bed if I remember correctly…

That was the start of our relationship. I still remember walking down the corridors next to him, and everyone marveling—just staring, spellbound—by the fact that we actually did get along. And we did. He was very smart, with the most amusing stories, and caring.

Not to mention the sex rocked my world.

So, my skeleton was brought out into the world, and I discovered something very valuable when it was. One, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had seemed to be. Two, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. There are some things that just don't have to be explained.

The reasoning behind my becoming Lily Potter being one of them. I'm sure anyone who's spent more than five minutes with us can see why we're together. It doesn't take a genius to turn my one skeleton into my one love. Only James Potter.


A/N: Aw, this story is so much cuter than I remember it to be... Lol. Sorry. So, right. Review por favor? Merci beacoup.