The castle is frightening at night, alone. Doing rounds is my least favorite part of being Head girl, that's for sure. Other than sharing a dorm with Potter, that is. Everything seems to be alive here, just waiting for the right moment to leap out of the shadows. My steps are quick, my robes flying out behind me. I take my regular route- the shortest possible, but covering the most ground. I can see the door to the Head students common room. It's far away, but at least the end is near.

Just as I breathe a sigh of thanks for a night of rounds with no trouble, he's there. James Potter. I manage to let out a brief scream of surprise before his hand reaches toward me to cover my mouth. "Fancy seeing you here, Evans," he whispers, not releasing my mouth.

I slap his hand away. "What are you doing here?" I hiss, stepping away from him.

"If you're not going to talk to me during the day, I'm going to make you talk to me now," James informs me brightly.

He takes a few predatory steps toward me, backing me into the wall. And then he takes one more extra step, leaving no spare space between us. I lift my hands in front of me in a futile attempt to push him away. In response, his hands fly up and catch my wrists. He holds my hands there for a moment, on his chest, deciding what to do with them. I can feel the toned muscles of his chest through his shirt, and I suppress the urge to shiver.

Just when I'm sure I'm about to lose control and start feeling him up, he moves my hands from his chest and pins them to the wall on either side of my head, leaning in closer to me.

"Now," he breathes, so close to me. "Talk to me, Evans." It's certainly a demand, but a non-threatening one.

"No," I reply, a bit on the bold side for someone pinned between a brick wall and an undeniably handsome wizard-who, apparently, is even more stunning when his hazel eyes and deep dimples are mere centimeters away.

"No?" he questions, his eyebrows rising.

"No," I repeat, my voice a bit less confident this time.

"Need I remind you, Miss Evans, that you are not in much of a position to be disobedient," he smirks.

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?" I ask, giving up, trying to ignore the smoothness of his hands on my wrists. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist softly, slowly.

"Just talk," he insists quietly.

"Errr…I'm extremely tired and I'd really like for this day to be over, so it would be very nice of you if you could let go of me so I can-" I ramble, trying to twist my wrists out of his grip.

"You want me to let go of you?" he asks, his eyes wide.

"Um…yeah?" I respond, a bit intimidated by what his eyes were doing to me and my thought process.

"You're lying, Lily," he whispers, his voice so smooth, so intoxicating. He leans even closer to me then, and I have to concentrate hard to keep my breathing regular. "Say that again, Lily. Say that you want me to let go of you, but this time, say it like you mean it," he insists.

Now I'm stuck. Because I never have been a good liar, and I'm sure I'll be an even worse one with James Potter pinning me to the wall, his breath whirling in my face and his eyes staring straight through me.

"James, please. I'm so tired," I whimper, avoiding his command. When I try to free my wrists, his grip on them tightens, and he removes them from the wall to bring my hands to his face.

"Me, too," he replies in a bitter whisper, though his mouth is gently smiling beneath my fingertips. "I'm tired, too, Lily Evans. Of waiting. And you have no idea how much I want to tell you that this is your last chance to have me. You don't know how much I wish I were stronger, how much I wish I could just stop loving you. My life would be so much easier. But I can't," he murmurs. And then he adds in a whisper, "I can't"

His eyes are unblinking and sad, never leaving mine. My heart is beating too fast at this point, and I can't help but move my fingers a bit, stroking his cheek.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, resisting the urge to break eye contact.

He lets out a low, unexpected chuckle. "You know what's funny?" he replies as he kisses my hands, then my wrists as he works his way up to my elbow.

"What's funny?" I manage to choke as his kisses migrated back to my fingers.

"What's funny is that I'm really, really not sorry that I'm in love with you, Lily Evans," James says forcefully as his hands find their way to my hair, pulling me to him roughly and crushing my lips to his.

His kiss isn't hesitant or harsh, but it certainly isn't emotionless. My hands move to his muscled shoulders as our mouths dance to a rhythm that has always been there, unspoken since the day we met.

He pulls away too soon, and I have to suppress a groan at the sudden loss. "Merlin, Lily, I love you so much. Too much."

"I love you too," I sigh, content.

"Really?" James asks, his tone sly, but I could hear the underlying hope in his voice.

"Yeah, really," I laugh.

"Could you say it again for me, Lily?" he requests, his tone only slightly mocking.

"No," I reply, embarrassed now. He rolls his eyes, smiling, and then captures my wrists in his hands once more.

"Once again, Lily, are you really in a position to be disobedient? You should start learning from your mistakes, you know," he teases, running his nose along my jaw. I clench my teeth to fight back a moan.

"It's late, James. We'll get caught."

"We're Head Boy and Girl. It won't be too hard to make up an excuse," he counters. "Now, say it," he breathes in my ear.

"Nope," I refuse. "You can't make me."

"Can't I?" he questions. He bends his head down to run his lips up and down my neck. "Say it," he repeats, his words muffled by my neck.

"If I say it, will you let go of me?" I demand.

"Mmmmhhmm," he answers.

"I love you," I tell him quietly. The words sound strange coming from my mouth. I'm not sure I've ever said them before tonight. I'm certain I've never really meant them.

"You love who?" he asks, bringing his mouth up so that his lips barely brush mine as he speaks.

"You," I repeat.

"And who am I?" he interrogates, his eyes laughing.

"I love you, James Potter," I smile as I bob my head forward to catch his lips in mine.

When we break apart, he mutters three words: "So not sorry." And neither am I.


This was fun to write, I hope it was fun to read.

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