Author's Notes: A delightfully smutty birthday present for Ashley. Enjoy!


She isn't certain how it started, why it continues, or where her moral decency has gone, but sometime around February, James and Lily start hijacking each other's rounds in order to sneak off and shag in entirely inappropriate Hogwarts locales.

"Dumbledore wants to speak with us. Right now. I think it's about that Ravenclaw to-do earlier. Can you patrol on your own for a bit, Hodges?" Lily blatantly lies the first time she can remember having instigated the madness, staring imploringly at Dustin Hodges because she couldn't possibly look at James. The beguiled Hufflepuff fifth-year gave a jerky nod and an obliging wave, swallowing Lily's tale without the least bit of suspicion and a desperate urge to please. Lily didn't give the boy—or herself—the chance to reconsider. Instead, she gave Dustin a brief smile, grabbed for James's hand, and instantly began dragging him rather forcefully in the opposite direction.

They made it as far as the next corridor before she's unceremoniously shoved her boyfriend into a broom closet.

"Love the new office, Professor," James drawled as Lily slammed the door shut behind them. "Quaint. Homey. Oddly dusty."

"Shut up." She lunged instantly for his shirt buttons—thank Merlin he hadn't changed. School uniforms were practically meant to be ripped off—and swiftly popped each small circle loose. "I can't believe you've brought me to this level. You've turned me into a slag. You have a slag for a girlfriend. A super slaggy, utterly depraved, morally reprehensible girlfriend."

"Shut up," James said, and before Lily could snap out a retort (or eliminate the need for one with a drugging kiss), James had grabbed her waist, hoisted her up on the single, awkward supply table, and dropped instantly to his knees. "No more talking."

Then his head disappeared beneath her skirt.

Lily decided then and there that there are worse things in life than being James Potter's super slaggy, utterly depraved, morally reprehensible girlfriend.

Tonight—the night of 27 March, to be exact—Lily's hijacking is entirely spontaneous. James hadn't meant to be patrolling on his birthday—Ruth Connors had fallen ill and Lily had been meeting with a study group for her exam the next day, so James had been left to deal with the issue on his own. She'd been told by Sirius that the birthday boy had valiantly trudged off to fulfil the fallen girl's place, would the cruel world never cease tormenting? Lily already knew about the night of partying and manly debauchery the lads had planned for James in Hogsmeade, so the sudden change in plans gave her the opportunity to give James an evening birthday present that she hadn't been anticipating. As she trolled silently through the halls with James's cloak and the Marauder's Map, Lily mentally tweaks the finer details of her hastily tossed together plan.

"There you are!" she cries when she (not so surprisingly) comes across Fiona Hall and the birthday boy himself ambling around the third floor. She hurries towards them, doing her best to look harried. "I'm so sorry, Fiona. Peter's gone and tripped down the stairs again and Remus says James is the only one who can do the healing spell properly. I tried to get him to go to the Hospital Wing, but he says Pomfrey—"

"—threatened to Floo his mum if Pete came in with another mindless injury," James finishes easily, as if rehearsed. He even tosses in an appropriately exasperated sigh. "Poor old boy. You don't mind, do you, Hall? I'll be back as soon as Pete's leg's been set."

"I don't mind," Fiona says, but her eyes dart quickly between the two of them and Lily has to wonder whether or not the Prefects have finally caught on to their game. "I hope he's not in too much pain. I'll just finish off the third floor, yeah?"

"Cheers," James says, but doesn't waste time on any pleasantries further than that. He takes off first down the corridor, his pace a steady clip, and rounds the first corner quickly. Lily hurries after him, calling her thanks to Fiona over her shoulder as she goes.

She's barely rounded the corner herself before James grabs her and traps her against the wall.

"Worst birthday ever," he claims before burying the complaint against her lips. His mouth is hot, coaxing, familiar. He rocks his body against hers. "Hm. Getting better."

"Get under here." She shakes out the cloak from where she's had it neatly folded beneath her arm, brandishing the silky material expertly. "Hurry. Fiona might be coming this way."

James does as she asks, but immediately curls his fingers around her waist and beneath the hem of her shirt when she scurries beneath the cloak to join him.

"Trophy Room's just round the other end," he whispers, nipping playfully at the curve of her neck. "We can christen the spot beneath my plaque."

"No." She's not made of iron, so she has to make an effort to hold back the pleasant hum at the intriguing idea and James's continued neck nipping, but she has a plan and she won't be deterred. "Come on."

She leads him down the nearest staircase, taking the steps as quickly as she can while simultaneously attempting to fend off James's various attempts to unclothe her in the middle of the corridor and keep the cloak in place. She knows this route better than she knows the back of her own hand, but the single floor's journey still seems to take four times as long as usual.

It isn't long before James catches on to where they're going. For a single moment, he quits trying to unbutton her shirt from behind.

"Lily." His voice is low, stilted. "Are we…"

"Shhhh." She checks the Map one last time to make sure the coast is clear. "C'mon."

The big double doors were presumably locked, but Lily doesn't take extra Charms lessons with Flitwick for her health. A few simple spells and the lock clicks open. Lily eases open the library doors without a sound.

When she turns around to glance at James, the boy is looking positively thrilled.

"Pick a section," Lily says.

James laughs, the quiet sound echoing slightly in the otherwise silent library. He shucks the cloak off them with surprising ease, wasting no time in making certain the doors are securely shut, but adds another Locking Charm just in case. That done, he whirls on her immediately, snaking his arms about her waist and lifting her clear off the floor.

"I love you," he says, scattering kisses on whichever part of her face his mouth can reach. "Have I told you that lately? Love you, Lily Evans. Bloody fucking love you."

"I thought you'd like this one." The giggles filter out as James continues to mindlessly lavish her face. She twines her arms around his neck and finally catches his mouth with hers. The kiss is long, heady. "How's the birthday looking now?"

James murmurs something against her mouth, but the words are lost in the press of his lips against hers, the rush of feeling that sweeps over her as she clutches more tightly at him. His tongue—dear Merlin, that glorious tongue—sweeps through her mouth in a heated tangle that goes straight to her head. Her senses swim and her limbs go to mush as the kiss turns from one to two, from two to three, from three to four

Lily tears her mouth away with a gasping breath.

"Pick a section or a table or the sodding floor for all I care, but I swear to Merlin, if you don't fuck me soon—"

"Fuck." James buries his groan into her mouth, but his hands go immediately to her bum as he hikes her up until her legs can easily clamp around his waist. He steers them towards the nearest available surface—a long study table lodged tightly between two bookcases—and drops her atop the wooden tabletop. Lily immediately reaches for the hem of his shirt as he grapples with the buttons on hers. They don't have a lot of time and they both know it. She's already torn his off him when his clumsy fingers finally pop the last catch open on hers and he suddenly realises that she's wearing nothing beneath.

"Forget something?" he asks, but his hands immediately cup her breasts.

Lily hums as his warm skin meets hers, her head lolling back at the gentle kneading. "Come to think of it, I reckon I forgot my knickers, as well."

James groans loudly.

His hands leave her chest only long enough to rip the white shirt completely from her body before immediately moving back down to her abdomen, crawling slowly upwards in a sensual stroke. When his fingers reach her nipples, peaked and sensitive from the teasing contact and the cool air, Lily can't take it anymore. She grabs hold of his shoulders and tugs with what little strength her lust-hazy limbs have to offer her. Fortunately, James understands the silent request. Lily shimmies her body farther back along the hard surface as James easily mounts the table along with her and drapes his body across hers.

Lily's mouth immediately seeks his.

"Touch me," she whispers, and knows she doesn't have to say more than that for him to understand her meaning. His mouth is still suckling hers, his lips stroking and their tongues mating as she feels his fingers make the painfully slow trail down from her chest and across her stomach. She's squirming restlessly beneath him by the time his digits finally drift beneath her skirt and immediately cup her. She's sopping—she's been bloody wet since she left the sodding common room—and that first touch of his very nearly does her in. She breaks her mouth away from his to moan.

"Easy," James says, but his fingers swirl in a delicious pattern and she's never been this close to coming so quickly in her life. His lips brush her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth again. "Easy."

"I can't." Blindly, she grapples for his belt buckle. "James, please."

"Hold on." His hands cover hers and in her desperate state, she thinks he's going to take the difficult task over for her and rid himself of the burdensome trousers. Instead he leaves the buckle half-undone, his zipper partially open. Lily can feel the outline of his hardened cock against her thigh and wants to scream. When he starts to shift downwards, she almost does. Her head jerks up from the table and she stares down at him as he continues to move down her body.


"Shhh." He grabs her hips and slides her further up along the long table, giving himself more room. He takes a moment to strip her of her shoes and socks. His head is settling down by her thighs and she immediately knows what he has in mind. She begins to protest, but he shushes her again. He speaks quickly as he slips off her skirt. She's lying naked on the table. "It's my birthday. I get to do what I want."

"Normal blokes would rather shag their girlfriends than lap at them," Lily grits out, but as James grabs her knees and hoists them up over his shoulders, her entire body tenses in eager anticipation. She tries one last plea, even as she shivers in delight. "Or shouldn't I be sucking you off?"

"Later. Try not to scream." He settles himself between her legs and Lily groans as his breath expels against her cunt. She knows what's coming and her body's already aching for it. "You're so bloody loud sometimes."

When his mouth finally touches her, Lily isn't making any promises.

She's no stranger to this particular act in the sex repertoire—actually, she really ought to have expected it considering James's particular proclivity for it—but a witch never really gets used to the feel of a bloke's head between her thighs. Lily clamps down on her lower lip, but still can't completely mask her rapturous sounds as James's tongue and fingers get to work. His mouth laps lazily at her clit as he easily slips one, then two, fingers inside her. His tongue is playful, sucking, but his fingers know exactly how to jab and twirl and it isn't long before she's arching off the table in helpless abandon. When James's mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue proves just as lethal as those deliciously calloused digits. The pressure that had already been building inside the pit of her stomach begins to boil in the most delicious of ways. Part of her acknowledges that she ought to be mortified by how quickly she's about to come, but most of her is just so desperate for release that she doesn't care.

James reads her body like an open book. Sensing the oncoming explosion, he deliberately slows his ministrations, his fingers going back to move in longer, slower strokes, his tongue returning to tease playfully at her nub. Lily babbles incoherently, not certain whether he kept at his attentions for mere minutes or hours. The waves inside of her build and ease in careful, gyrating intervals, but even James can only keep her teetering on the edge for so long. Soon enough, the suspension breaks and Lily lets out a muffled cry. She feels as if she's shattered into a million pieces.

James gives her a few moments to recover before slowly crawling up her body again. His mouth presses careless butterfly kisses across her skin as he goes.

"Lily Evans. What would Madam Pince think?" he teases.

His glasses are pushed up atop his head and Lily reaches limply into the messy locks for the specs before carelessly tossing them to the ground. She wants all his weight atop her again, so she threads her arms around his neck and tugs down. The pressure is a luxury, a boon for her oversensitive skin. It feels heavenly, and she reckons she can stay like this forever and never be discontent. Because she's not certain she can move any other body part just yet, she presses her mouth against whichever patch of skin she can find—his cheek, his jaw, his neck— then suckles happily at his pulse point for a few moments. When James lets off a low moan, Lily realises that he's still constrained in his trousers and quickly reaches down to try to remedy it. This time, her fingers cooperate and James doesn't stop her.

"Do you want me to…" She makes a vague sort of gesture after they've effectively shimmied him out of his trouser and shorts, but James understands and immediately shakes his head.

"I just want to be inside you." The statement is low, gruff, and Lily's relieved to hear it. She reckons a birthday blowjob might eventually be in order, but she's feeling as antsy as he is. They haven't much time left—bloody Fiona was already suspicious—and James is looking desperate. Their bodies move together easily, more than familiar with this dance, practically made for it. Lily reaches down to grip his heated cock, giving it a quick few strokes before positioning it where it needs to be. James grunts and then kisses her, the pressure of his mouth against hers becoming harder, sterner, as he finally slips into her.

He instantly pulls out before jamming back into her again.

Lily lets loose a panting sob.

James's mouth drops to her shoulder, his teeth gently clamping down.

The wooden table begins to rock as he gradually increases the pace.

Lily gets lost in the glorious feeling of it as he continues to move inside her, oblivious to anything but the endless jolting of her nerves until James's mouth drifts down from her shoulder and he's suddenly latched onto her breast. One hand lifts up to massage a soft mound while his lips lavish heatedly at the other. The sensory overload is almost too much to bear, but Lily lifts one hand to cover his at her breast and tries to keep the noises from bursting out of her throat. James hums against her chest as he continues to rut into her, hard and quick in the rough, shallow strokes that she doesn't know how she ever lived without. Eventually his mouth leaves a wet trail from one breast to the other, their now intertwined fingers coming to rest beside Lily's head. Her other hand weaves into his hair as she thrusts her pelvis up and begins to meet him stroke for stroke. It's far too soon, but the beginning of yet another climax starts to stir inside her. She wonders how long James can last, knows they don't have much time left, and squeezes her inner muscles as his cock reams into her on the next slide.

"Fuck, Lily." He hisses the word against her breast before slamming back into her with another groan. He gyrates against her at a different angle and a sudden zing shoots like electricity throughout her limbs.

"There. There. Again." She grips at him desperately, garbling nonsense, but James makes the same move again and her sweetspot lets off another glorious spark. Her moans are louder, sharper, and James lifts his mouth back up to hers. The kiss is desperate and messy.

"Almost there?" He hits the spot again, then drives her completely spare by skimming his fingers down her body once more and giving her mound a quick rub. The electric shocks are now full-fledged orgasm warnings and Lily nods her head wildly, not even able to get the words out.

Her limbs quake. Her head spins. She's not sure how much longer she'll last.

"James." His name is the only thing she can get out as the world explodes around her and her body's sent shooting up into that burst of ecstasy for the second time. It's the cue James has obviously been waiting for and Lily isn't certain if it's the sudden clamping of her muscles around him or the sudden increase in speed his final strokes take on, but soon he's groaning out his own release, collapsing on top of her in a sweaty heap of tingling limbs and thudding hearts.

Minutes, hours, possibly even years later, Lily finds the strength to press an absent kiss to his temple, clutching at him tightly and breathing in the familiar scent of him that she's come to love. His ragged breath pants against her skin. Merlin, the boy drove her wild.

"Happy birthday," she whispers.