(no subject)
Title: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (3/3)
Author: Me, nellie_darlin
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jo's.
Pairing/Characters: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: NC-17
Length: 7,650 words
Summary: The real reason Lily Evans keeps turning James Potter down? She's already sleeping with his best friend...
Teaser: “He was fine. Surprisingly good actually. They certainly obey him, although that’s because he’s threatened them with bloody retribution if they don’t do what he says.”
Notes: This is the third part of three; the first part is here, and the second is here. A million and one thanks to the gorgeous sazzlette - not only did she beta this monster of a fic, despite having tons of better stuff to do, she also looked stuff up in the books for me when I was in Cambridge. The title is from the song of the same name by Jerome Kern; the full quotation is When your heart's on fire, smoke gets in your eyes.
Cass is sitting at the very end of the train, in a compartment with three Ravenclaw boys.
“Budge up, budge up,” she tells them, when Lily appears at the doorway, “make way for her majesty.”
Wearily Lily collapses onto the seat beside Cass. “Oof,” she says. “I’m exhausted.”
“How was it? Or should I say, him?”
“He was fine. Surprisingly good actually. They certainly obey him, although that’s because he’s threatened them with bloody retribution if they don’t do what he says.”
“Not quite in the right spirit, is it?”
“No. I suppose I should be grateful he’s taking it even this seriously, though.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Cass agrees. “D’you think he’ll be good?”
“Hard to say. I - I think there’s more to him than we realised.”
“Hark at you!” Cass says triumphantly. “I told you you just had to give him a chance.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Lily says darkly. “I’m not marrying the boy. I just said there might be more to him. I may be proved wrong, of course. He’ll probably abuse the position terribly.”
“Surely not,” drawls a voice in the doorway, and Lily’s heart leaps. “He’s been horribly boring, actually,” Sirius continues. “Evans, can I have a word?” Once out in the corridor, he says, “Actually, it’s two words.”
“And they are?”
He leans close, so close that she can feel his breath on her ear. “The words are, fuck me.”
“You need one more,” Lily retorts.
“Now?”
She glares; he grins.
“Ok, I know it, I know this one. Is it - hard?”
“Nope,” she says airily, and turns to go. He grabs her arm.
“Fine, fine, you win. Fuck me, please.”
“We’ll see,” Lily says, and with a cheeky grin she returns to Cass.
It’s hardly worth mentioning that within five minutes of the end of supper, Lily is bent over in a broom cupboard, robes up round her waist, while Sirius pounds into her.
~*~
“Oi, Evans!”
Lily looks up and sees Potter half-in, half-out of the portrait hole. “What is it?” she asks, only just keeping her tone civil.
“McGonagall wants us.”
Lily swears under her breath and rolls up her parchment - yet another thing that has to be put off. Two weeks in and she’s swamped. She stretches her back as she walks over, having spent too long in one position.
“Feeling your age, Evans?” Potter teases as she climbs stiffly out into the corridor.
“Fuck off, Potter,” Lily retorts, but without much rancour. “You’re older than me, after all.”
“Older and wiser, my dear.”
“Hardly wiser,” Lily scoffs, and Potter grins at her.
“Fun one today,” he says. “Some Slytherins are selling firewhiskey to the third years. Got your climbing shoes on?”
“It’s not at the top of the Astronomy Tower, is it?” Lily groans. “Why can’t they break the rules downstairs?”
“I’ll get you a chair-lift,” Potter promises.
“Ha-ha.”
So five minutes later they’re at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and Lily’s wishing she’d brought a cloak.
“They’d better hurry up,” she mutters, stamping her feet.
“Cold?” James asks.
“Yeah, but it’s not just that. I’ve got better things to do than nick some adolescent alcoholics.”
“Ah - well - about that…” James says awkwardly, and Lily looks at him.
“What do you mean?”
James blushes and fidgets, and if it wasn’t so annoying it would be rather sweet.
“James Potter,” Lily says dangerously, “there’d better be some teenage alcoholics.”
“Well, I’m sure there are some somewhere,” he says brightly.
“For fuck’s sake, Potter, I thought we were past all this!”
“It’s not that, Evans, please -”
“I don’t care!” Lily fumes, panicking slightly, all too aware that James is hitting on her and just this afternoon she was soundly fucked by his best friend. “I’ve got so much to do, Potter, and you’ve brought me up here on a wild goose chase-”
“- but if you could just let me explain-”
“-and it’s cold and I’ve got four fucking feet of essays to write-”
“-you just never give me a chance, Evans-”
“- and I just want to get down!”
“-and I thought you might like me!”
He’s looking down at her so earnestly, and he’s suddenly very close, and Lily’s panicking heart is beating overtime.
“Do you?” he asks - bleats, rather - and Lily fights the urge to hit him.
“Potter,” she grates, “just let me go.”
“But Evans -”
“Fuck off, Potter!”
And she pushes past him and wrenches the door open, and she doesn’t stop running until she’s on her bed, curtains firmly drawn, where the world can't get her.
~*~
OI. MOANING MYRTLE. WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?
Mercifully Lily’s cauldron is empty.
Your aim is crap, she replies.
My aim is brilliant, Cass writes back. I was aiming for your cauldron. And that’s where it ended up. Oh, and STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION.
Lily sighs and gives in to the inevitable, and tells Cass an edited version of the story, culminating in a desperate, and now he must hate me and rather than relieved I feel like crap.
Hmm, Cass replies, tis a tricky one and no mistake. But I think I can guess why you feel so poo. It’s only natural. “I can’t bear the thought that he’s alive somewhere and thinking ill of me.”
I’m not falling in love with him, if that’s what you’re suggesting…
Never said you were. It’s just natural. You’re used to him liking you, so the thought of him not liking you is hurtful. You don’t have to like him to like you.
Do you like him?
I didn’t. Then I did. Now I don’t know.
“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you...”
STOP IT.
WHAT? I JUST LOVE THAT LINE. It had nothing to with him. You just interpreted it that way. YOU’VE GOT HIM ON THE BRAIN…
No I haven’t. And what else was I to think? You started the parallel.
Me thinketh the lady doth protest too much. Me also thinketh that dear Sluggie is glaring at us, so let’s get brewing.
NOT THAT THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER.
~*~
Cass, bless her, won’t let it go until Lily agrees to apologise. Which is why Lily is now hovering by the Quidditch pitch, waiting for James to emerge from practice, while Cass herself lurks in a nearby shrubbery to make sure Lily actually does it.
Nevertheless, Lily nearly risks her wrath when she sees Potter leave the changing room, broom over his shoulder, and in the end she only stays because she appears to have lost the use of her legs. Come on, Lily, she thinks furiously, pull yourself together.
So she calls his name and beckons him over, and she tries not to feel pleased at the way his face rises.
“All right, Evans?” he asks, belatedly trying for casualness.
“Ok,” she replies. “You?”
“Not bad.”
“Good.” A pause. “Look, Potter,” Lily says eventually, feeling Cass’s eyes boring into her back, “I’m sorry about the other day. I just - too much work, you know? I’m sorry if you felt - if you were hurt. And I think things shouldn’t be weird between us, because of the whole head boy and girl thing and we sort of get on when I’m not being a bitch and you’re not being an idiot and basically, can you - can we - I mean, I’m sorry. Let’s be - I’d like it if we could be friends. Or something.”
James grins. “Sounds good. I should apologise too - it was a stupid thing to do.”
“I would’ve talked to you, you know. Just - not about that.”
James looks uncomfortable. “I know. But it was only ever school stuff or head girl stuff, and you were so busy, and -”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Yeah,” he says with relief. “New start?”
“New start.”
Another lengthy pause: James inspects the handle of his broom and Lily looks at her feet.
“So, how are you?” she says desperately, after a minute of agonising silence.
James hides a smile. “Good, thanks.”
“Practice good?”
“Very good, thanks.”
“Right.”
Silence reigns, and Lily’s skin crawls with embarrassment. Could this be any more awkward? Time to cut and run, perhaps.
“Well,” she says brightly. “I should probably -”
“Yeah, me too -”
“- Things to do -”
“-homework and stuff -”
“Bye then.”
“Yeah, bye.”
But of course they’re both headed for Gryffindor Tower, prolonging the awkwardness, so Lily stops and says, “I’ve just - er - I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“Righty-ho,” James says quickly, and practically runs up the slope.
“Well, that was successful,” Cass says sarcastically as Lily approaches. “I think we need to work on your conversational skills, Evans. Come and join me in this delightful shrubbery.”
“But-”
“Sit!”
Lily sits.
~*~
A week passes, and two. The nights draw in, and the chill arrives, and for the first time the fires are lit in the dorms. Out come the jumpers, the scarves; breaktime becomes an extended game of hide and seek with the first and second years as they try and avoid going outside. Slowly the leaves turn golden, then fall, slippery underfoot when it rains. For a week autumn is glorious, then the ferocious northern winter arrives in force, and the castle is battered by storms.
The 20th of October is her father’s birthday, so a few days before Lily goes up to the Owlery, clutching a parcel and a card. It’s cold there, but the Common Room was loud and too warm, and the cool silence acts on Lily like a balm. She doesn’t send her parcel immediately, but stands and looks at the rain for a little while, watching as it sweeps across the hillsides beyond the lake in long, straggly grey curtains. It’s rather beautiful, and so still: the only sounds are the gentle hooting of the owls and the drumming of the rain on the roof - and now and then the soft whisper of wings as an owl flies in or out. Her own owl, a sweet grey owl called Hector, is perched on her shoulder and snuggled up against her cheek.
After a while there are footsteps on the stairs, and Lily turns to see James Potter come in, letter in hand. He stumbles a little on the way in, and Lily sees his glasses have steamed up.
“Bugger,” he mutters, and, taking off his glasses, he polishes them on his jumper. “That’s better.” Putting them back on, he looks around. “Daedalus,” he calls softly, and with a hoot an owl soars down and lands on his outstretched arm. “Hello, old boy,” Potter says, his face full of tenderness. “How are you?” He brings his arm close and his owl nuzzles his cheek, just as Hector is doing to Lily’s. “Horrible weather, eh?” Potter continues, and Lily is both amused and touched. “I’m going to have to send you out, though. Will you forgive me?” A soft hoot that could be a “yes” but could equally be, “fuck off!” but James obviously interprets it as the former. “Good boy,” he murmurs; then he stops, looking out at the rain. “Hang on.” He pulls out his wand and taps the envelope, then, satisfied, he hands the letter for his owl to take. “Take it to Mum,” he tells it, and the owl launches itself from his arm and soars upwards and through an open window, out into the rain. James watches it go, turning on the spot, and that’s when he sees Lily, standing by a window on the next level up.
“Evans,” he says with some surprise, flushing a little.
“Hey, Potter,” Lily greets him quietly, smiling. The rain and the quiet have smoothed off the rough edges of her mood, and she feels very well-disposed even to Potter.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks, putting his hands in his pockets in an attempt at nonchalance.
“Sending my dad’s birthday present. Um, Potter - what was that spell?”
“Waterproof charm. Do you - d’you want me to show you?”
“Yes please.”
James steps over a pile of broken slates and climbs the small ladder to the second level. Lily hands him the parcel but he hands it straight back. “You try,” he says. “It’s a double-tap anticlockwise, and impervius. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” And he smiles nervously, and Lily finds herself smiling back.
“Thanks,” she says, and gets out her wand. “So, a-”
“-double-tap anticlockwise, yes-”
“-and impervius.”
“There we go.”
“How do you know it’s worked?” Lily asks, inspecting the parcel.
“Stick it out of the window,” James suggests with the hint of a grin. “Only for a second, it won’t hurt.”
Looking narrowly at him, Lily sticks her hand out into the rain.
“There you go,” James says proudly. “Dry as a bone.”
“Wow! Thanks, Potter.” And Lily sets about attaching the parcel to Hector’s leg. “It’s a bit big,” she mutters, fumbling the knots with her cold hands. “It’d help if Dad was a wizard, then I could just shrink it.”
“I’m sure you could do it anyway,” James says. “It could be on a timer - no, that’s too risky, there could be a delay - or maybe the counterspell could be activated by touch? With a time delay to that too so your parents could get it out without it ballooning then and there?” Lily looks at him with some surprise - he’s frowning, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “There’s the Alimentari Paradox,” he continues, “and maybe it’d contravene the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Act and the Statute of Secrecy. But as they’re your parents and know about us anyway - it’s a grey area… What?”
Lily hides her smile. “Nothing. You amuse me, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
“In a good way, honest,” Lily adds hurriedly, and James beams.
“Well,” he says happily, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Well, it’s worth thinking about.”
“Definitely,” Lily says seriously, and then allows herself the tiniest of smiles. Once again she’s touched. He’s really sweet when he’s not acting up to the crowd, and surprisingly thoughtful. “Thanks, Potter,” she says, tying the final knot and charming it not to unravel. “Go on, Hector. To Mum and Dad.”
Hector hoots and takes off, and almost at once he’s hidden by the sheets of rain.
“I hope he gets there,” Lily says anxiously. “The weather’s terrible, and he can be a bit thick sometimes.”
James grins. “Daedalus too. He’s generally good, but he does get a bit overexcited sometimes and forgets where he’s supposed to be.”
“The question is,” Lily says, smiling, “does he know how to spell Tuesday?”
James looks blank.
“Winnie the Pooh?” she prompts.
“The what? Winnie the Poo?”
“Pooh. With an h. Don’t tell me you never read Winnie the Pooh.”
“Nope. Never. I’d have remembered a book about a poo.”
“He’s not a poo, he’s a bear. A teddy bear. And he lives in the Hundred Acre Wood, although it’s actually just a game played by Christopher Robin, the boy who owns him.”
“So where does knowing how to spell Tuesday come into it?”
“It’s Owl - Owl is very wise, and he knows how to spell Tuesday, although he can’t spell his own name - spells it W-O-L - and Piglet says you have to respect someone who knows how to spell Tuesday.”
“Sounds brilliant,” James says doubtfully.
“Oh, it is,” Lily insists. “Tell you what, I’ll get Mum to send me my copy, and I’ll show you. You’ll like it. Lot’s of pictures,” she adds with a grin.
James laughs. “I don’t think I will like it. I’m too disappointed Muggles don’t actually give their kids books about a Poo.”
“So what did you read then, Mr Smarty Pants? What are magical kids’ books like?”
“Oh, they’re brilliant. I had one about a dragon, and it actually breathed fire!”
“Actually breathed actual fire?”
“Well, no,” James amended, “but it looked real. And there was one about a family of Pygmy Puffs - and you could stroke them, they felt real - and another where a boy went to visit the mermaids-”
“Let me guess, you got splashed by a wave.”
“No, don’t be silly. It just smelled of fish.”
“They sound great.”
“You should see them. If you’re ever round at mine, I’ll show you.”
“I’d like that.”
“So what else did you read about, apart from poo?”
“Oh, lots of stuff. There was Ferdinand the bull, who didn’t like to fight but preferred to sit and smell the flowers, and The Famous Five - about five children who have adventures - and Swallows and Amazons-”
“Oh, Sirius read that last year. He really liked it.”
“It’s brilliant.” There’s another silence now, but it’s not awkward. Lily just looks at James, and thinks how pleasing his face is - not traditionally good looking, but with features that fit together well. He’s got a sweet smile, too, engaging and open, besides the wicked grin that everyone’s learned to fear.
“When you have kids,” James asks then, “will you give them Muggle stuff or magic stuff?”
“I don’t know,” she replies, surprised. “Haven’t really thought about it. Probably both, to be honest.”
“I’d like to know more about Muggle stuff. Should probably have done Muggle Studies, come to think of it.”
“I’ll teach you,” Lily says impulsively, and James looks pleased.
“Thanks,” he says. He shivers as a gust of wind lances through the window.
“Cold?”
“A little. I suppose I should be getting back.”
“Yeah, me too.”
But Lily doesn’t move, and James doesn’t either, both reluctant to break the connection that has built up between them while they talked. James is looking at her intently, his face shadowy in the half-light, and Lily is suddenly certain that he’s thinking of kissing her, and she’s equally certain that she wouldn’t mind if he did.
But no, it can’t happen, she’s with Sirius, and sometimes you just have to be grown-up about things, and so she smiles brightly and steps back.
“You coming back to Gryffindor?” she asks.
“What? Oh yeah.” James shakes himself as if waking from a dream. “Yeah, I’m just coming.”
“Do you want me to wait?”
“No - no, I’ll be fine. You go on.”
So Lily leaves, her heart aching a little. At the door she stops and looks back, but James is looking out at the encroaching darkness, and he doesn’t see.
~*~
She’s just walking past a statue of an ugly hump-backed witch on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when a hand flashes out and pulls her into the alcove behind the statue.
“Christ!” she yelps. “You gave me a fright.”
“Sorry,” Sirius says, but he doesn’t look it - he’s grinning rather wickedly. “Got a moment?”
“Not really,” Lily says, but even as she says it she knows she’s not going anywhere.
“Me neither. But I was writing an essay on Morgana le Fay and it made me think of you.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” Lily says with a laugh. “It’s not going to be complimentary.”
“Excuse me!” Sirius exclaims, scandalised. “I am always the soul of courtesy.”
“Really? ‘You little bitch,’” Lily quotes, “‘I’m going to make you pay for that’?”
“Except when you deserve it, obviously.” He pulls her closer. “You’re freezing. And your hair’s damp. Have you been outside?”
“In the Owlery. I had to send my dad’s birthday present.”
“You left the Common Room an hour ago.”
“It was nice up there,” Lily said, feeling an awkward rush of guilt. “It was quiet.”
“It’s arctic! You’re barking, Evans.”
Lily shrugs. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“I suppose I have to warm you up now, then?”
“I suppose you do.”
“Excellent. Through here, then.” He presses on a stone and the wall behind them moves a little, enough to let them slip through.
“How clever,” Lily says, hearing the echoes float back to her.
“Why thank you.” The door shuts, and Lily hears Sirius murmur a spell - the passage is at once lit with a soft light. “Now we will be completely undisturbed,” he says softly, backing Lily up against the door, “unless Pete develops a thirst, of course.”
“What -”
“This passage leads to Hogsmeade. But I didn’t tell you that.”
“Of course not,” Lily mumbles, hypnotised by Sirius’s eyes and his soft mouth - wider than Potter’s, and fuller, and - Stop it! Don’t think of him now!
So she doesn’t, concentrating hard on Sirius, on his beautiful face and his deep, mocking eyes, on his fingers, so skilled and so quick to undress her, on the smell of him and the feel of his skin under her hands, on the curve of his mouth and the shadow where his collarbones meet.
He’s charmed a mattress on the floor - Lily is amused to see that it is flowery - and now he gently lowers her down upon it. Kneeling between her legs, and smiling devilishly, he slowly undoes his flies, making a performance of it.
“Oh come on, Black,” Lily snaps, desperate for him.
“Cool,” he says, and quickly - if a little awkwardly - divests himself of socks and trousers and boxers, dropping them messily on top of his already-discarded shirt. Lily casts the contraception charm, then lies back and watches, laughing at Sirius when he bangs his elbow on the passage wall, until finally he’s naked, his cock gloriously hard. Lily spreads her legs.
“Go on,” she whispers. “Fuck me.”
Sirius growls and crawls forward, putting his hands on either side of her head, looking down at her for a second before kissing her, hard. Lily moans and kisses back - probing with her tongue and then sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and biting. Sirius hisses; Lily smiles sweetly.
“I thought I told you to fuck me,” she says.
“I don’t like being told what to do,” Sirius retorts, and Lily is reminded of exactly why she doesn’t like him.
“Fine,” she says, shutting her legs. “Your loss.”
“Oh, don’t be stupid, Evans,” Sirius says scornfully. “I saw how wet you were. You’re desperate.”
“It seems romance is dead,” she says, and Sirius laughs - but harshly.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. “Romance? Because I thought we decided that this was never about romance.”
“We did,” Lily replies, “but you don’t have to be a bastard about it.”
“How was telling you that you were wet being a bastard?”
“It was your tone.”
“Fuck my tone. You shouldn’t be so bloody sensitive.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you being a wanker.”
“So you say. Maybe you’re just sensitive.”
“No. You are a wanker. It’s fact.”
In reality, it’s been a while since Lily has thought Sirius was a wanker, and part of the reason she’s so annoyed is that she thought - or hoped, maybe - that he’d changed. Another part is that she is wet, she is desperate, and despite everything she just wants to feel his cock inside her.
Sirius has sat back on his heels, his cock still hard and sticking up from the dark curls, and although Lily has always privately thought penises a little ridiculous looking, Sirius’s now just looks beautiful and inviting, and irrationally, despite her anger, she wants it. Wants it in her cunt and in her mouth, wants the feel of the soft dry skin against her stomach and between her breasts and under her tongue. And when Sirius idly starts to stroke, his gaze steady and imperturbable and challenging, she only wants it more.
“So I’m a wanker, am I?” he says calmly. “Guess, since you’ve changed your mind, you may be right.”
Up and down goes his hand, up and down and up and down, slowly and with circular movements of the thumb, and Lily watches it in helpless, furious arousal. Up and down and she can hear Sirius’s breathing, and then he’s murmuring, “Yes, yes, oh fuck that’s good,” but she knows he’s exaggerating for effect. Up and down, and she can see the precome leaking from the tip, silvery against the dark browny-red. “Oh, that’s good,” Sirius says again, never taking his eyes off here. “Not as good as Lily Evans’s cunt, but what can you do, under the - ah! - circumstances?”
And Lily starts to laugh then, laughing at Sirius’s performance and at the sheer stupidity of the whole situation.
“Well, it seems you’re sorted,” she says, “so I’d better go and get on with my homework.”
And she gets onto her knees and reaches for her clothes, deliberately exaggerating her actions - and it works, Sirius doesn’t call her bluff. She feels his hands on her hips, holding her in place, and then the brush of his cock against her thigh, and she hears him say, “Let’s not be silly, eh? Let’s not part on bad terms. After all, the sex is pretty fabulous. Even if I am a wanker.”
Lily laughs again. “Knew you’d see sense,” she says, and looking over her shoulder she adds, “Would you mind fucking me now?”
“You only had to ask,” Sirius says, and he removes one of his hands to guide his cock into her, and Lily cries out as he pushes in. “Oh fuck, Evans,” Sirius gasps, and he leans forward, making Lily cry out again as his cock shifts inside her. “You beautiful girl,” he whispers, kissing her spine, “I’m going to fuck you so hard -”
Slowly he pulls out, then with just the tip of his cock inside he waits for about five seconds, before thrusting back in one smooth stroke, fast and strong. Lily chokes.
“Fuck, Black-”
“Like that?”
“Just shut up,” Lily snaps, angry at how smug he always is during sex, so sure of himself. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
So gripping her hips, Sirius starts to fuck her with long, fast thrusts, and Lily tries not to think of all those parts of him that infuriate her, and concentrate on the parts that are making her moan. Both she and Sirius are too worked up to last long, and within a minute Sirius’s thrusts speed up, their rough breathing and the sound of skin smacking on skin echoing in the passageway, and then he stiffens and gasps and then he’s coming, and with a bit of help from her fingers Lily isn’t far behind. Panting, they collapse onto the mattress and try and catch their breath.
~*~
Things all start to get a bit complicated after that. The more she sees of Potter, the more she realises that that Moment in the Owlery had not been an aberration. One day in Potions she tests herself, inspecting Potter and imagining kissing him. It’s something she’s done before, when Potter first expressed an interest back in fourth year, and whereas before she’d only felt repulsion, now she looks at his mouth and feels curiosity and a hefty dose of “I want”. What would it feel like? she wonders. Is he a good kisser? Eager, probably but not skilful. But maybe not. Who knows?
From there she imagines seeing him naked, and once again she feels a mix of curiosity and desire. She remembers the day the week before when Potter had stretched and his shirt had ridden up, revealing a flat stomach - toned but not muscled - with a tantalising trail of hair leading downwards, and Lily feels her mouth go dry. All of a sudden - and without any real fairy-tale transformation on his part, except for a little filling out and a little less teenage awkwardness - she’s preoccupied by his body and what it could look like, and she rails bitterly against winter for making everyone put on more clothes, just when less would be helpful.
And one day while she’s fucking Sirius, she imagines it’s not him but Potter - Potter’s hands cupping her breasts, Potter’s mouth against hers, Potter’s cock thrusting in and out of her - and she finds herself gasping at the thought, incredibly turned on.
So, evidently she fancies Potter. She likes Potter. Potter intrigues her. Potter is sweet and the way his hair curls around his ear does funny things to her insides. She’s got it bad for Potter, and Cass, bless her, doesn’t crow.
But she also likes Sirius, also fancies him, and moreover, it’s Sirius she’s fucking. The exact nature of the relationship is unclear, but relationship it is, and even if there were a way of keeping it secret from Sirius, she wouldn’t dream of two-timing him. Which means if she wants anything to happen with Potter, she’ll have to end things with Sirius. This thought appals her - not only does she feel squeamish about the whole James-and-Sirius-best-friends thing, she finds she doesn’t actually want to end things with Sirius. He’s maddening but he’s gorgeous, and he makes her feel sexy even if he makes her feel like an idiot, and she’s reluctant to throw away a certainty on a possible, or even a probable. Because since the debacle on the Astronomy Tower, Potter hasn’t once hinted that he feels anything but friendship for her - in fact, it’s this, among other things, that endears him to her.
But then her mind swings again, and she wonders what it would be like to have a real boyfriend, one who she didn’t have to keep secret, or a relationship that wasn’t based on deception. She doesn’t pretend Sirius is anything but physical - she’s started to like him, but still the thought of being with him officially is claustrophobic. There’s too much she doesn’t like mixed up with the things she does. And even the physical side has its problems - although the sex is still fantastic, he is so smug about it that orgasm always feels a little like a sacrifice of pride. Potter, on the other hand, is more than physical attraction - she finds herself getting terribly soppy about him, dippy in a way that always infuriated her in other girls. She wants to know everything about him, and more alarmingly, wants him to know everything about her. She finds herself watching him in lessons and imagining what it would be like to be going out with him - my boyfriend, she thinks, “Hi, this is James - my boyfriend.” She doesn’t go quite so far as scrawling Mrs Lily Potter on the corner of her parchment, but she’s not really that far away.
But then - and back her mind swings, possibly in reaction to this benighted dippiness - he’s Potter. He’s still the boy she couldn’t stand only a few short months ago. He’s changed, that’s true, but not really. Not enough. He’s awkward and arrogant and callous and unthinking and such a boy - but he’s also sweet and well-meaning and kind and brave and very funny when he wants to be (and sometimes when he doesn’t). And - and this is the important bit - he likes her. Really likes her, even, although Lily has her doubts. Cass’s theory was always that Lily wouldn’t give Potter a chance because she was scared he’d stop liking her if he got to know her properly. Well, he has got to know her, and he still likes her.
Sirius doesn’t like her.
Of course that’s good, her mind continues, because he shouldn’t be too upset if she were to dump him. But it just isn’t done, going from one boy to his best friend, and even though no one would know except her and Sirius, it still makes her uncomfortable.
The whole thing gives her a headache and permanent nausea. She can’t even ask Cass’s advice, because Cass still doesn’t know about Sirius, and telling her now would mean explaining why she wasn’t told before. So Lily seeks her own counsel, and after a while the constant to-ing and fro-ing just bores her.
~*~
In the end, as ever, events sort themselves out rather nicely.
During the October Hogsmeade visit, Lily gave in to Cass’s pressure and agreed to meet the boys in the Three Broomsticks, and in the course of conversation, Lily mentioned to James that she had tried out for the Quidditch team at the beginning of second year but her flying hadn’t been good enough.
“But I thought you hated Quidditch,” James exclaimed, and Lily shook her head and explained that she loved Quidditch, it was just that she was bored by boys like Gus Harford who could talk of nothing else.
“Like me,” James teased her, and she patted his hand and said, “Not any more, thank Christ.” James beamed at her, and Lily felt her heart swelling under that smile, growing and glowing until her chest felt uncomfortably tight.
“You know,” James said tentatively, “I could - I could teach you. To fly. If you wanted to.”
“I’d love to, Potter,” she replied, and she was surprised at how calm she sounded.
“Saturday, then? If it’s nice?”
“Saturday it is. After lunch.”
And so here she is in jeans and a thick jumper, sitting in the stands and waiting for Potter to appear. It’s a fine day, if bitter, and the sky is high and egg-shell blue, dusted here and there with a few small clouds. Perfect flying conditions. She hears the clock strike two, and then she sees him, turning the corner from the broom sheds with two brooms over his shoulder.
“Hullo!” he calls cheerfully. “Perfect day - although rain’s forecast for later. I see you’ve wrapped up -could get a bit chilly up there.”
“How high will we go?” Lily asks, the slightest bit alarmed at that.
“As high as you want to,” he replies. “We don’t even have to leave the ground if you don’t want to.”
“I want to actually fly, Potter - I think by definition that means leaving the ground.”
He grins, and Lily’s stomach swoops as if she were already on the broom. “Fair enough,” he says, and hands her a broom. She takes it a little gingerly.
“I don’t want to be a wimp,” she says slowly, “But it has been a while -”
“It’s not wimpy to be aware of one’s own mortality,” he tells her kindly, although that doesn’t quite reassure her. “I nearly shat myself when I first got on a broom, even though it had been all I could talk about for weeks beforehand. I still get nervous every so often - usually when we’re playing Slytherin.” And he laughs, and so does Lily. “The question is, do you trust me?”
“Not really, no,” Lily replies, but she’s lying.
“Good good,” he says, and winks. “OK, let’s go a bit further in, get a bit more space… right, good. Tell me if I go too fast, or too slow. OK. You remember how to get the broom ready?”
“Think so,” Lily says; she sticks out her hand and shouts, “Up!” The broom soars to her hand, then settles to hover at waist-height.
“Perfect. Now you need to mount your broom - spread your legs and get that shaft between your thighs -”
Lily lets out an undignified snigger. “Potter, really,” she says, scandalised, and he winks. Oh blimey…
“So the broom’s hovering and you get on,” James continues, “no funny business now. Remember to hold tight, but no death grips. Just relax. This is a training broom, it won’t let you go too high.” Lily swings her legs over and sits down; all at once she remembers the terror of that first flying lesson, and she also seems to remember a small scrawny little thing showing off. She smiles to herself, but squeaks when the broom bucks a little, then feels cross. “Don’t worry,” James says, “it’s perfectly safe. I took it out yesterday to check. You just need to shift your hands a bit - yup, like that. Perfect. Now you want to go up a bit, so gently lift the handle of the broom.” He gets on his own broom and demonstrates, rising two feet into the air. “You go down like this,” he says, pointing the nose down, “and left and right is just a matter of leaning. The rest is just balance. How’re you feeling?”
Lily is actually feeling rather turned on, but she doesn’t say that. “Like a first year,” she says.
“That was the intention. By the end of this, you will be a master flyer, but you’ll have no pride at all.” Lily grimaces, and James smirks. “But no, seriously,” he continues, his face once more sincere, “pride has no place when you’re learning anything. You’re going to fall on your face, you’ve just not to care. Pick yourself up and start again, that sort of thing.”
“Cheerful, aren’t you?” Lily grumbles, but she does as she’s told, and then she’s level with James again.
“Good!” he exclaims. “Very good. Happy?”
“Definitely,” Lily says. “Wobbly, but happy.”
“Excellent. Why not try and fly to that post over there? Don’t worry about height for now. Let’s just get you feeling comfortable.”
So Lily sets off and within five yards she’s gone straight into the turf.
“Never mind,” James says with an excellent straight face. “You were holding on too tight - you forced the nose of the broom down. Remember to relax, and try again.”
Her chin jutting with determination, Lily picks herself up and tries again. She gets further this time, but to her humiliation she starts to rise, tries to stop herself, overcompensates, and seconds later smacks into the ground. She’s up again at once, though, and with James’s help and encouragement, she manages to reach the goalpost without further accidents, gaining in confidence with every foot.
“Good girl!” James exclaims as she reaches it. Lily grins. “Now try and get to that one.” Lily’s grin fades.
An hour later she’s battered, bruised and knackered, but she can now fly a complete loop of the Quidditch pitch without a wobble, and it’s been a good fifteen minutes since she fell off.
“That’s my girl!” James crows as she comes in to land, and Lily whoops in satisfaction. “How was that?” he asks as he lands next to her.
“Amazing!” Lily gasps, short of breath but beaming. “I love it.”
“We’ll have you playing Quidditch in no time.”
“Hope so. You’re a good teacher, Mr Potter.”
“You’re a good pupil, Miss Evans.”
Lily gives a little curtsey. “Thankee,” she says, grinning, and James laughs.
“Now I see the clouds are coming in,” he says, “but I think we’ve got time for a quick spin, if you want to?”
“What, go up with you?”
“Yeah,” he replies casually. “Whatcha think?”
Lily knows she really shouldn’t, not if she’s serious about sticking with Sirius, but she tells herself that she just wants to feel what it’s like to really fly and that getting close to James has nothing to do with it. “Yes, please!” she replies, conscience clear.
So James shifts up his broom and says, “Hop on then. And hang on tight.”
Lily swings her leg over and settles onto the broom, slipping her arms around James’s waist. Her heart immediately starts to race, and she stops herself from pressing her face into his jumper.
“Ready?” James asks.
“Ready!”
And then they’re off, straight up like an arrow, and as fast, and Lily feels like she’s left her stomach behind. They fly fast and sure, and James goes from one death-defying stunt to another, loops and spins and hair-raising dives until Lily is laughing aloud with exhilaration, the wind numbing her cheeks and whipping out her hair behind her like a banner. She clings on to James with her arms and to the broom with her legs, and she can’t remember a time when she felt so alive.
“Happy?” James shouts at one point, and Lily squeezes him and shouts back, “Perfectly!”
But then the last scrap of blue sky disappears and rain starts to fall in big, fat drops, and Lily realises it’s over.
“Homeward bound,” James calls, and Lily feels a wrenching sadness out of all proportion - but then she feels only pure fear and excitement as James points the broom almost straight down and they plummet downwards, diving like a hawk after its prey. They’re going so fast Lily can’t see how James is going to pull up in time and for the first time she regrets this - a broken arm would rather spoil the mood - but he judges it perfectly and they touch down as lightly as a feather, just as the rain starts in earnest.
“Well?” he asks, grinning widely.
“Potter -” Lily attempts, but she’s shaking hard. “Potter, you’re a maniac.”
“Part of my charm,” he replies with a wink, and takes her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of the rain.”
Heading for the broom-sheds they splash across the pitch; the rain is freezing but Lily is too full of excitement to care. Still it’s a relief to get under cover, and once inside they collapse against the wall, laughing weakly.
“What an adventure,” Lily says, and James agrees, his eyes shining down at her, and then she’s stepping forward and his arms are around her and - there - he’s kissing her. His lips are warm and soft and his mouth is hot and searching, and he kisses passionately and with much more skill than Lily had expected, although with a hint of reticence that is a wonderful contrast to Sirius. Lily’s heart swoops again at this, beating hard with a powerful, fierce affection, and she finds she can’t get enough of his kisses, kissing deeper and deeper, pushing him back against the wall, fingers twisted into the wet wool of his jumper, trying to get as close as possible to him.
“Evans -” James groans then.
“Lily!” Lily hisses against his mouth. “My name is Lily.”
“Lily,” James whispers, smiling a little, “Lily, Lily, Lily -”
“Oh James…”
“My Lily - my girl -”
“Say it again,” Lily demands, and he does, murmuring her name like a prayer. She’s never heard her name said like that, with such intensity and such passion, and it frightens her a little - but only because she feels an answering passion swelling within her, just as deep and just as strong.
“I’m sorry,” she finds herself saying, “I’m so sorry, James, I was such a bitch to you -”
“It’s fine, Lily.”
“- I was so blind -”
“Honestly, it’s fine -”
“- and by all rights you should say, Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn, because-”
“What?” James interrupts.
“What’s what?” Lily asks, knocked off her stride.
“That quote. What is it?”
Lily pulls away a little - but not far, not far - and stares at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read Gone with the Wind?”
“Nope.”
“Haven’t you even seen the film?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry,” Lily jokes, “don’t think I can do this any more.” And she pretends to go, but James catches her arm and pulls her back to him, back into the circle of his arms.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his fingers lifting her chin so he can look deep into her eyes. “After all, I need you to teach me all about poos and wind.”
~*~
Lily finds Sirius sitting on the window-seat on the seventh floor, the one by the Arithmancy classrooms that looks out over the lake. He’s sitting with his knees up to his chest, staring out at the rain.
“Hey,” Lily says quietly.
“Thought you’d be along,” he replies, his voice a monotone. “Come to dump me, are you?”
“You heard then?”
“I heard.”
“Sirius -” Lily begins, her heart aching.
“Evans,” he replies. “Lily.”
“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry it had to be like this.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the way it is.” Still he hasn’t looked at her; still he stares out into the rain, shoulders hunched. Lily loves him very much just then.
“I’d stay with you if I could,” she says, and for that moment she means it. “I - I’ve had a great time. I should - thank you.”
“No need,” he says, with a ghost of a smile, and Lily has never felt such a monster. “It was my pleasure.”
“And mine.”
“I suppose you like him, then,” Sirius says, after a pause. “I mean - I hope you like him.”
“I like him,” Lily replies. “I - think I sort of love him. Somehow.”
“It’s entirely possible,” Sirius says. “I love him.”
“He -” Lily says, feeling like she should explain, but she stops, unsure of how to proceed.
“Loyalty’s reward,” Sirius says; Lily can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. He continues, “I am actually happy for you. Believe it or not. He’s going to be completely insufferable now, of course - but then he was anyway.” And he laughs. “He’s crazy about you, Lils. Treat him well, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best,” she promises.
“That’s all anyone can ever do.”
Slowly Lily turns to go, but she doesn’t want to leave. Once she’s left, it’s gone for good, he’s gone for good, and with it part of her heart. So she stops, and then she takes a step towards him, and another, and a third, until she can reach out and touch him. But she doesn’t.
“Sirius -” is all she says, and “Will you be ok?”
“I’ll survive,” he says, shrugging.
“I don’t -” she falters, bewildered at his reaction, “but you never liked me.”
And then he turns and looks at her for the first time, and his eyes are kinder than she’s ever seen them, and terribly sad. Slowly he stands up, and cups her face in his hands. “Don’t be silly,” he says gently, “how could anyone not like you?” And he bends down and presses a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Oh Sirius -” Lily says, and she finds she’s crying, and she laughs a little. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be,” he replies. “I’m flattered.” And he grins. “Now fuck off, do. Take him off my hands.”
So Lily turns, and straightens her back, and wipes her eyes. A gentle push in the small of her back, and after a last, watery smile back at Sirius, she walks away.
Author: Me, nellie_darlin
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jo's.
Pairing/Characters: Lily/Sirius, Lily/James
Rating: NC-17
Length: 7,650 words
Summary: The real reason Lily Evans keeps turning James Potter down? She's already sleeping with his best friend...
Teaser: “He was fine. Surprisingly good actually. They certainly obey him, although that’s because he’s threatened them with bloody retribution if they don’t do what he says.”
Notes: This is the third part of three; the first part is here, and the second is here. A million and one thanks to the gorgeous sazzlette - not only did she beta this monster of a fic, despite having tons of better stuff to do, she also looked stuff up in the books for me when I was in Cambridge. The title is from the song of the same name by Jerome Kern; the full quotation is When your heart's on fire, smoke gets in your eyes.
Cass is sitting at the very end of the train, in a compartment with three Ravenclaw boys.
“Budge up, budge up,” she tells them, when Lily appears at the doorway, “make way for her majesty.”
Wearily Lily collapses onto the seat beside Cass. “Oof,” she says. “I’m exhausted.”
“How was it? Or should I say, him?”
“He was fine. Surprisingly good actually. They certainly obey him, although that’s because he’s threatened them with bloody retribution if they don’t do what he says.”
“Not quite in the right spirit, is it?”
“No. I suppose I should be grateful he’s taking it even this seriously, though.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Cass agrees. “D’you think he’ll be good?”
“Hard to say. I - I think there’s more to him than we realised.”
“Hark at you!” Cass says triumphantly. “I told you you just had to give him a chance.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Lily says darkly. “I’m not marrying the boy. I just said there might be more to him. I may be proved wrong, of course. He’ll probably abuse the position terribly.”
“Surely not,” drawls a voice in the doorway, and Lily’s heart leaps. “He’s been horribly boring, actually,” Sirius continues. “Evans, can I have a word?” Once out in the corridor, he says, “Actually, it’s two words.”
“And they are?”
He leans close, so close that she can feel his breath on her ear. “The words are, fuck me.”
“You need one more,” Lily retorts.
“Now?”
She glares; he grins.
“Ok, I know it, I know this one. Is it - hard?”
“Nope,” she says airily, and turns to go. He grabs her arm.
“Fine, fine, you win. Fuck me, please.”
“We’ll see,” Lily says, and with a cheeky grin she returns to Cass.
It’s hardly worth mentioning that within five minutes of the end of supper, Lily is bent over in a broom cupboard, robes up round her waist, while Sirius pounds into her.
~*~
“Oi, Evans!”
Lily looks up and sees Potter half-in, half-out of the portrait hole. “What is it?” she asks, only just keeping her tone civil.
“McGonagall wants us.”
Lily swears under her breath and rolls up her parchment - yet another thing that has to be put off. Two weeks in and she’s swamped. She stretches her back as she walks over, having spent too long in one position.
“Feeling your age, Evans?” Potter teases as she climbs stiffly out into the corridor.
“Fuck off, Potter,” Lily retorts, but without much rancour. “You’re older than me, after all.”
“Older and wiser, my dear.”
“Hardly wiser,” Lily scoffs, and Potter grins at her.
“Fun one today,” he says. “Some Slytherins are selling firewhiskey to the third years. Got your climbing shoes on?”
“It’s not at the top of the Astronomy Tower, is it?” Lily groans. “Why can’t they break the rules downstairs?”
“I’ll get you a chair-lift,” Potter promises.
“Ha-ha.”
So five minutes later they’re at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and Lily’s wishing she’d brought a cloak.
“They’d better hurry up,” she mutters, stamping her feet.
“Cold?” James asks.
“Yeah, but it’s not just that. I’ve got better things to do than nick some adolescent alcoholics.”
“Ah - well - about that…” James says awkwardly, and Lily looks at him.
“What do you mean?”
James blushes and fidgets, and if it wasn’t so annoying it would be rather sweet.
“James Potter,” Lily says dangerously, “there’d better be some teenage alcoholics.”
“Well, I’m sure there are some somewhere,” he says brightly.
“For fuck’s sake, Potter, I thought we were past all this!”
“It’s not that, Evans, please -”
“I don’t care!” Lily fumes, panicking slightly, all too aware that James is hitting on her and just this afternoon she was soundly fucked by his best friend. “I’ve got so much to do, Potter, and you’ve brought me up here on a wild goose chase-”
“- but if you could just let me explain-”
“-and it’s cold and I’ve got four fucking feet of essays to write-”
“-you just never give me a chance, Evans-”
“- and I just want to get down!”
“-and I thought you might like me!”
He’s looking down at her so earnestly, and he’s suddenly very close, and Lily’s panicking heart is beating overtime.
“Do you?” he asks - bleats, rather - and Lily fights the urge to hit him.
“Potter,” she grates, “just let me go.”
“But Evans -”
“Fuck off, Potter!”
And she pushes past him and wrenches the door open, and she doesn’t stop running until she’s on her bed, curtains firmly drawn, where the world can't get her.
~*~
OI. MOANING MYRTLE. WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?
Mercifully Lily’s cauldron is empty.
Your aim is crap, she replies.
My aim is brilliant, Cass writes back. I was aiming for your cauldron. And that’s where it ended up. Oh, and STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION.
Lily sighs and gives in to the inevitable, and tells Cass an edited version of the story, culminating in a desperate, and now he must hate me and rather than relieved I feel like crap.
Hmm, Cass replies, tis a tricky one and no mistake. But I think I can guess why you feel so poo. It’s only natural. “I can’t bear the thought that he’s alive somewhere and thinking ill of me.”
I’m not falling in love with him, if that’s what you’re suggesting…
Never said you were. It’s just natural. You’re used to him liking you, so the thought of him not liking you is hurtful. You don’t have to like him to like you.
Do you like him?
I didn’t. Then I did. Now I don’t know.
“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you...”
STOP IT.
WHAT? I JUST LOVE THAT LINE. It had nothing to with him. You just interpreted it that way. YOU’VE GOT HIM ON THE BRAIN…
No I haven’t. And what else was I to think? You started the parallel.
Me thinketh the lady doth protest too much. Me also thinketh that dear Sluggie is glaring at us, so let’s get brewing.
NOT THAT THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER.
~*~
Cass, bless her, won’t let it go until Lily agrees to apologise. Which is why Lily is now hovering by the Quidditch pitch, waiting for James to emerge from practice, while Cass herself lurks in a nearby shrubbery to make sure Lily actually does it.
Nevertheless, Lily nearly risks her wrath when she sees Potter leave the changing room, broom over his shoulder, and in the end she only stays because she appears to have lost the use of her legs. Come on, Lily, she thinks furiously, pull yourself together.
So she calls his name and beckons him over, and she tries not to feel pleased at the way his face rises.
“All right, Evans?” he asks, belatedly trying for casualness.
“Ok,” she replies. “You?”
“Not bad.”
“Good.” A pause. “Look, Potter,” Lily says eventually, feeling Cass’s eyes boring into her back, “I’m sorry about the other day. I just - too much work, you know? I’m sorry if you felt - if you were hurt. And I think things shouldn’t be weird between us, because of the whole head boy and girl thing and we sort of get on when I’m not being a bitch and you’re not being an idiot and basically, can you - can we - I mean, I’m sorry. Let’s be - I’d like it if we could be friends. Or something.”
James grins. “Sounds good. I should apologise too - it was a stupid thing to do.”
“I would’ve talked to you, you know. Just - not about that.”
James looks uncomfortable. “I know. But it was only ever school stuff or head girl stuff, and you were so busy, and -”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Yeah,” he says with relief. “New start?”
“New start.”
Another lengthy pause: James inspects the handle of his broom and Lily looks at her feet.
“So, how are you?” she says desperately, after a minute of agonising silence.
James hides a smile. “Good, thanks.”
“Practice good?”
“Very good, thanks.”
“Right.”
Silence reigns, and Lily’s skin crawls with embarrassment. Could this be any more awkward? Time to cut and run, perhaps.
“Well,” she says brightly. “I should probably -”
“Yeah, me too -”
“- Things to do -”
“-homework and stuff -”
“Bye then.”
“Yeah, bye.”
But of course they’re both headed for Gryffindor Tower, prolonging the awkwardness, so Lily stops and says, “I’ve just - er - I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“Righty-ho,” James says quickly, and practically runs up the slope.
“Well, that was successful,” Cass says sarcastically as Lily approaches. “I think we need to work on your conversational skills, Evans. Come and join me in this delightful shrubbery.”
“But-”
“Sit!”
Lily sits.
~*~
A week passes, and two. The nights draw in, and the chill arrives, and for the first time the fires are lit in the dorms. Out come the jumpers, the scarves; breaktime becomes an extended game of hide and seek with the first and second years as they try and avoid going outside. Slowly the leaves turn golden, then fall, slippery underfoot when it rains. For a week autumn is glorious, then the ferocious northern winter arrives in force, and the castle is battered by storms.
The 20th of October is her father’s birthday, so a few days before Lily goes up to the Owlery, clutching a parcel and a card. It’s cold there, but the Common Room was loud and too warm, and the cool silence acts on Lily like a balm. She doesn’t send her parcel immediately, but stands and looks at the rain for a little while, watching as it sweeps across the hillsides beyond the lake in long, straggly grey curtains. It’s rather beautiful, and so still: the only sounds are the gentle hooting of the owls and the drumming of the rain on the roof - and now and then the soft whisper of wings as an owl flies in or out. Her own owl, a sweet grey owl called Hector, is perched on her shoulder and snuggled up against her cheek.
After a while there are footsteps on the stairs, and Lily turns to see James Potter come in, letter in hand. He stumbles a little on the way in, and Lily sees his glasses have steamed up.
“Bugger,” he mutters, and, taking off his glasses, he polishes them on his jumper. “That’s better.” Putting them back on, he looks around. “Daedalus,” he calls softly, and with a hoot an owl soars down and lands on his outstretched arm. “Hello, old boy,” Potter says, his face full of tenderness. “How are you?” He brings his arm close and his owl nuzzles his cheek, just as Hector is doing to Lily’s. “Horrible weather, eh?” Potter continues, and Lily is both amused and touched. “I’m going to have to send you out, though. Will you forgive me?” A soft hoot that could be a “yes” but could equally be, “fuck off!” but James obviously interprets it as the former. “Good boy,” he murmurs; then he stops, looking out at the rain. “Hang on.” He pulls out his wand and taps the envelope, then, satisfied, he hands the letter for his owl to take. “Take it to Mum,” he tells it, and the owl launches itself from his arm and soars upwards and through an open window, out into the rain. James watches it go, turning on the spot, and that’s when he sees Lily, standing by a window on the next level up.
“Evans,” he says with some surprise, flushing a little.
“Hey, Potter,” Lily greets him quietly, smiling. The rain and the quiet have smoothed off the rough edges of her mood, and she feels very well-disposed even to Potter.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks, putting his hands in his pockets in an attempt at nonchalance.
“Sending my dad’s birthday present. Um, Potter - what was that spell?”
“Waterproof charm. Do you - d’you want me to show you?”
“Yes please.”
James steps over a pile of broken slates and climbs the small ladder to the second level. Lily hands him the parcel but he hands it straight back. “You try,” he says. “It’s a double-tap anticlockwise, and impervius. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” And he smiles nervously, and Lily finds herself smiling back.
“Thanks,” she says, and gets out her wand. “So, a-”
“-double-tap anticlockwise, yes-”
“-and impervius.”
“There we go.”
“How do you know it’s worked?” Lily asks, inspecting the parcel.
“Stick it out of the window,” James suggests with the hint of a grin. “Only for a second, it won’t hurt.”
Looking narrowly at him, Lily sticks her hand out into the rain.
“There you go,” James says proudly. “Dry as a bone.”
“Wow! Thanks, Potter.” And Lily sets about attaching the parcel to Hector’s leg. “It’s a bit big,” she mutters, fumbling the knots with her cold hands. “It’d help if Dad was a wizard, then I could just shrink it.”
“I’m sure you could do it anyway,” James says. “It could be on a timer - no, that’s too risky, there could be a delay - or maybe the counterspell could be activated by touch? With a time delay to that too so your parents could get it out without it ballooning then and there?” Lily looks at him with some surprise - he’s frowning, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “There’s the Alimentari Paradox,” he continues, “and maybe it’d contravene the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Act and the Statute of Secrecy. But as they’re your parents and know about us anyway - it’s a grey area… What?”
Lily hides her smile. “Nothing. You amuse me, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
“In a good way, honest,” Lily adds hurriedly, and James beams.
“Well,” he says happily, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Well, it’s worth thinking about.”
“Definitely,” Lily says seriously, and then allows herself the tiniest of smiles. Once again she’s touched. He’s really sweet when he’s not acting up to the crowd, and surprisingly thoughtful. “Thanks, Potter,” she says, tying the final knot and charming it not to unravel. “Go on, Hector. To Mum and Dad.”
Hector hoots and takes off, and almost at once he’s hidden by the sheets of rain.
“I hope he gets there,” Lily says anxiously. “The weather’s terrible, and he can be a bit thick sometimes.”
James grins. “Daedalus too. He’s generally good, but he does get a bit overexcited sometimes and forgets where he’s supposed to be.”
“The question is,” Lily says, smiling, “does he know how to spell Tuesday?”
James looks blank.
“Winnie the Pooh?” she prompts.
“The what? Winnie the Poo?”
“Pooh. With an h. Don’t tell me you never read Winnie the Pooh.”
“Nope. Never. I’d have remembered a book about a poo.”
“He’s not a poo, he’s a bear. A teddy bear. And he lives in the Hundred Acre Wood, although it’s actually just a game played by Christopher Robin, the boy who owns him.”
“So where does knowing how to spell Tuesday come into it?”
“It’s Owl - Owl is very wise, and he knows how to spell Tuesday, although he can’t spell his own name - spells it W-O-L - and Piglet says you have to respect someone who knows how to spell Tuesday.”
“Sounds brilliant,” James says doubtfully.
“Oh, it is,” Lily insists. “Tell you what, I’ll get Mum to send me my copy, and I’ll show you. You’ll like it. Lot’s of pictures,” she adds with a grin.
James laughs. “I don’t think I will like it. I’m too disappointed Muggles don’t actually give their kids books about a Poo.”
“So what did you read then, Mr Smarty Pants? What are magical kids’ books like?”
“Oh, they’re brilliant. I had one about a dragon, and it actually breathed fire!”
“Actually breathed actual fire?”
“Well, no,” James amended, “but it looked real. And there was one about a family of Pygmy Puffs - and you could stroke them, they felt real - and another where a boy went to visit the mermaids-”
“Let me guess, you got splashed by a wave.”
“No, don’t be silly. It just smelled of fish.”
“They sound great.”
“You should see them. If you’re ever round at mine, I’ll show you.”
“I’d like that.”
“So what else did you read about, apart from poo?”
“Oh, lots of stuff. There was Ferdinand the bull, who didn’t like to fight but preferred to sit and smell the flowers, and The Famous Five - about five children who have adventures - and Swallows and Amazons-”
“Oh, Sirius read that last year. He really liked it.”
“It’s brilliant.” There’s another silence now, but it’s not awkward. Lily just looks at James, and thinks how pleasing his face is - not traditionally good looking, but with features that fit together well. He’s got a sweet smile, too, engaging and open, besides the wicked grin that everyone’s learned to fear.
“When you have kids,” James asks then, “will you give them Muggle stuff or magic stuff?”
“I don’t know,” she replies, surprised. “Haven’t really thought about it. Probably both, to be honest.”
“I’d like to know more about Muggle stuff. Should probably have done Muggle Studies, come to think of it.”
“I’ll teach you,” Lily says impulsively, and James looks pleased.
“Thanks,” he says. He shivers as a gust of wind lances through the window.
“Cold?”
“A little. I suppose I should be getting back.”
“Yeah, me too.”
But Lily doesn’t move, and James doesn’t either, both reluctant to break the connection that has built up between them while they talked. James is looking at her intently, his face shadowy in the half-light, and Lily is suddenly certain that he’s thinking of kissing her, and she’s equally certain that she wouldn’t mind if he did.
But no, it can’t happen, she’s with Sirius, and sometimes you just have to be grown-up about things, and so she smiles brightly and steps back.
“You coming back to Gryffindor?” she asks.
“What? Oh yeah.” James shakes himself as if waking from a dream. “Yeah, I’m just coming.”
“Do you want me to wait?”
“No - no, I’ll be fine. You go on.”
So Lily leaves, her heart aching a little. At the door she stops and looks back, but James is looking out at the encroaching darkness, and he doesn’t see.
~*~
She’s just walking past a statue of an ugly hump-backed witch on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when a hand flashes out and pulls her into the alcove behind the statue.
“Christ!” she yelps. “You gave me a fright.”
“Sorry,” Sirius says, but he doesn’t look it - he’s grinning rather wickedly. “Got a moment?”
“Not really,” Lily says, but even as she says it she knows she’s not going anywhere.
“Me neither. But I was writing an essay on Morgana le Fay and it made me think of you.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” Lily says with a laugh. “It’s not going to be complimentary.”
“Excuse me!” Sirius exclaims, scandalised. “I am always the soul of courtesy.”
“Really? ‘You little bitch,’” Lily quotes, “‘I’m going to make you pay for that’?”
“Except when you deserve it, obviously.” He pulls her closer. “You’re freezing. And your hair’s damp. Have you been outside?”
“In the Owlery. I had to send my dad’s birthday present.”
“You left the Common Room an hour ago.”
“It was nice up there,” Lily said, feeling an awkward rush of guilt. “It was quiet.”
“It’s arctic! You’re barking, Evans.”
Lily shrugs. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“I suppose I have to warm you up now, then?”
“I suppose you do.”
“Excellent. Through here, then.” He presses on a stone and the wall behind them moves a little, enough to let them slip through.
“How clever,” Lily says, hearing the echoes float back to her.
“Why thank you.” The door shuts, and Lily hears Sirius murmur a spell - the passage is at once lit with a soft light. “Now we will be completely undisturbed,” he says softly, backing Lily up against the door, “unless Pete develops a thirst, of course.”
“What -”
“This passage leads to Hogsmeade. But I didn’t tell you that.”
“Of course not,” Lily mumbles, hypnotised by Sirius’s eyes and his soft mouth - wider than Potter’s, and fuller, and - Stop it! Don’t think of him now!
So she doesn’t, concentrating hard on Sirius, on his beautiful face and his deep, mocking eyes, on his fingers, so skilled and so quick to undress her, on the smell of him and the feel of his skin under her hands, on the curve of his mouth and the shadow where his collarbones meet.
He’s charmed a mattress on the floor - Lily is amused to see that it is flowery - and now he gently lowers her down upon it. Kneeling between her legs, and smiling devilishly, he slowly undoes his flies, making a performance of it.
“Oh come on, Black,” Lily snaps, desperate for him.
“Cool,” he says, and quickly - if a little awkwardly - divests himself of socks and trousers and boxers, dropping them messily on top of his already-discarded shirt. Lily casts the contraception charm, then lies back and watches, laughing at Sirius when he bangs his elbow on the passage wall, until finally he’s naked, his cock gloriously hard. Lily spreads her legs.
“Go on,” she whispers. “Fuck me.”
Sirius growls and crawls forward, putting his hands on either side of her head, looking down at her for a second before kissing her, hard. Lily moans and kisses back - probing with her tongue and then sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and biting. Sirius hisses; Lily smiles sweetly.
“I thought I told you to fuck me,” she says.
“I don’t like being told what to do,” Sirius retorts, and Lily is reminded of exactly why she doesn’t like him.
“Fine,” she says, shutting her legs. “Your loss.”
“Oh, don’t be stupid, Evans,” Sirius says scornfully. “I saw how wet you were. You’re desperate.”
“It seems romance is dead,” she says, and Sirius laughs - but harshly.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. “Romance? Because I thought we decided that this was never about romance.”
“We did,” Lily replies, “but you don’t have to be a bastard about it.”
“How was telling you that you were wet being a bastard?”
“It was your tone.”
“Fuck my tone. You shouldn’t be so bloody sensitive.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you being a wanker.”
“So you say. Maybe you’re just sensitive.”
“No. You are a wanker. It’s fact.”
In reality, it’s been a while since Lily has thought Sirius was a wanker, and part of the reason she’s so annoyed is that she thought - or hoped, maybe - that he’d changed. Another part is that she is wet, she is desperate, and despite everything she just wants to feel his cock inside her.
Sirius has sat back on his heels, his cock still hard and sticking up from the dark curls, and although Lily has always privately thought penises a little ridiculous looking, Sirius’s now just looks beautiful and inviting, and irrationally, despite her anger, she wants it. Wants it in her cunt and in her mouth, wants the feel of the soft dry skin against her stomach and between her breasts and under her tongue. And when Sirius idly starts to stroke, his gaze steady and imperturbable and challenging, she only wants it more.
“So I’m a wanker, am I?” he says calmly. “Guess, since you’ve changed your mind, you may be right.”
Up and down goes his hand, up and down and up and down, slowly and with circular movements of the thumb, and Lily watches it in helpless, furious arousal. Up and down and she can hear Sirius’s breathing, and then he’s murmuring, “Yes, yes, oh fuck that’s good,” but she knows he’s exaggerating for effect. Up and down, and she can see the precome leaking from the tip, silvery against the dark browny-red. “Oh, that’s good,” Sirius says again, never taking his eyes off here. “Not as good as Lily Evans’s cunt, but what can you do, under the - ah! - circumstances?”
And Lily starts to laugh then, laughing at Sirius’s performance and at the sheer stupidity of the whole situation.
“Well, it seems you’re sorted,” she says, “so I’d better go and get on with my homework.”
And she gets onto her knees and reaches for her clothes, deliberately exaggerating her actions - and it works, Sirius doesn’t call her bluff. She feels his hands on her hips, holding her in place, and then the brush of his cock against her thigh, and she hears him say, “Let’s not be silly, eh? Let’s not part on bad terms. After all, the sex is pretty fabulous. Even if I am a wanker.”
Lily laughs again. “Knew you’d see sense,” she says, and looking over her shoulder she adds, “Would you mind fucking me now?”
“You only had to ask,” Sirius says, and he removes one of his hands to guide his cock into her, and Lily cries out as he pushes in. “Oh fuck, Evans,” Sirius gasps, and he leans forward, making Lily cry out again as his cock shifts inside her. “You beautiful girl,” he whispers, kissing her spine, “I’m going to fuck you so hard -”
Slowly he pulls out, then with just the tip of his cock inside he waits for about five seconds, before thrusting back in one smooth stroke, fast and strong. Lily chokes.
“Fuck, Black-”
“Like that?”
“Just shut up,” Lily snaps, angry at how smug he always is during sex, so sure of himself. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
So gripping her hips, Sirius starts to fuck her with long, fast thrusts, and Lily tries not to think of all those parts of him that infuriate her, and concentrate on the parts that are making her moan. Both she and Sirius are too worked up to last long, and within a minute Sirius’s thrusts speed up, their rough breathing and the sound of skin smacking on skin echoing in the passageway, and then he stiffens and gasps and then he’s coming, and with a bit of help from her fingers Lily isn’t far behind. Panting, they collapse onto the mattress and try and catch their breath.
~*~
Things all start to get a bit complicated after that. The more she sees of Potter, the more she realises that that Moment in the Owlery had not been an aberration. One day in Potions she tests herself, inspecting Potter and imagining kissing him. It’s something she’s done before, when Potter first expressed an interest back in fourth year, and whereas before she’d only felt repulsion, now she looks at his mouth and feels curiosity and a hefty dose of “I want”. What would it feel like? she wonders. Is he a good kisser? Eager, probably but not skilful. But maybe not. Who knows?
From there she imagines seeing him naked, and once again she feels a mix of curiosity and desire. She remembers the day the week before when Potter had stretched and his shirt had ridden up, revealing a flat stomach - toned but not muscled - with a tantalising trail of hair leading downwards, and Lily feels her mouth go dry. All of a sudden - and without any real fairy-tale transformation on his part, except for a little filling out and a little less teenage awkwardness - she’s preoccupied by his body and what it could look like, and she rails bitterly against winter for making everyone put on more clothes, just when less would be helpful.
And one day while she’s fucking Sirius, she imagines it’s not him but Potter - Potter’s hands cupping her breasts, Potter’s mouth against hers, Potter’s cock thrusting in and out of her - and she finds herself gasping at the thought, incredibly turned on.
So, evidently she fancies Potter. She likes Potter. Potter intrigues her. Potter is sweet and the way his hair curls around his ear does funny things to her insides. She’s got it bad for Potter, and Cass, bless her, doesn’t crow.
But she also likes Sirius, also fancies him, and moreover, it’s Sirius she’s fucking. The exact nature of the relationship is unclear, but relationship it is, and even if there were a way of keeping it secret from Sirius, she wouldn’t dream of two-timing him. Which means if she wants anything to happen with Potter, she’ll have to end things with Sirius. This thought appals her - not only does she feel squeamish about the whole James-and-Sirius-best-friends thing, she finds she doesn’t actually want to end things with Sirius. He’s maddening but he’s gorgeous, and he makes her feel sexy even if he makes her feel like an idiot, and she’s reluctant to throw away a certainty on a possible, or even a probable. Because since the debacle on the Astronomy Tower, Potter hasn’t once hinted that he feels anything but friendship for her - in fact, it’s this, among other things, that endears him to her.
But then her mind swings again, and she wonders what it would be like to have a real boyfriend, one who she didn’t have to keep secret, or a relationship that wasn’t based on deception. She doesn’t pretend Sirius is anything but physical - she’s started to like him, but still the thought of being with him officially is claustrophobic. There’s too much she doesn’t like mixed up with the things she does. And even the physical side has its problems - although the sex is still fantastic, he is so smug about it that orgasm always feels a little like a sacrifice of pride. Potter, on the other hand, is more than physical attraction - she finds herself getting terribly soppy about him, dippy in a way that always infuriated her in other girls. She wants to know everything about him, and more alarmingly, wants him to know everything about her. She finds herself watching him in lessons and imagining what it would be like to be going out with him - my boyfriend, she thinks, “Hi, this is James - my boyfriend.” She doesn’t go quite so far as scrawling Mrs Lily Potter on the corner of her parchment, but she’s not really that far away.
But then - and back her mind swings, possibly in reaction to this benighted dippiness - he’s Potter. He’s still the boy she couldn’t stand only a few short months ago. He’s changed, that’s true, but not really. Not enough. He’s awkward and arrogant and callous and unthinking and such a boy - but he’s also sweet and well-meaning and kind and brave and very funny when he wants to be (and sometimes when he doesn’t). And - and this is the important bit - he likes her. Really likes her, even, although Lily has her doubts. Cass’s theory was always that Lily wouldn’t give Potter a chance because she was scared he’d stop liking her if he got to know her properly. Well, he has got to know her, and he still likes her.
Sirius doesn’t like her.
Of course that’s good, her mind continues, because he shouldn’t be too upset if she were to dump him. But it just isn’t done, going from one boy to his best friend, and even though no one would know except her and Sirius, it still makes her uncomfortable.
The whole thing gives her a headache and permanent nausea. She can’t even ask Cass’s advice, because Cass still doesn’t know about Sirius, and telling her now would mean explaining why she wasn’t told before. So Lily seeks her own counsel, and after a while the constant to-ing and fro-ing just bores her.
~*~
In the end, as ever, events sort themselves out rather nicely.
During the October Hogsmeade visit, Lily gave in to Cass’s pressure and agreed to meet the boys in the Three Broomsticks, and in the course of conversation, Lily mentioned to James that she had tried out for the Quidditch team at the beginning of second year but her flying hadn’t been good enough.
“But I thought you hated Quidditch,” James exclaimed, and Lily shook her head and explained that she loved Quidditch, it was just that she was bored by boys like Gus Harford who could talk of nothing else.
“Like me,” James teased her, and she patted his hand and said, “Not any more, thank Christ.” James beamed at her, and Lily felt her heart swelling under that smile, growing and glowing until her chest felt uncomfortably tight.
“You know,” James said tentatively, “I could - I could teach you. To fly. If you wanted to.”
“I’d love to, Potter,” she replied, and she was surprised at how calm she sounded.
“Saturday, then? If it’s nice?”
“Saturday it is. After lunch.”
And so here she is in jeans and a thick jumper, sitting in the stands and waiting for Potter to appear. It’s a fine day, if bitter, and the sky is high and egg-shell blue, dusted here and there with a few small clouds. Perfect flying conditions. She hears the clock strike two, and then she sees him, turning the corner from the broom sheds with two brooms over his shoulder.
“Hullo!” he calls cheerfully. “Perfect day - although rain’s forecast for later. I see you’ve wrapped up -could get a bit chilly up there.”
“How high will we go?” Lily asks, the slightest bit alarmed at that.
“As high as you want to,” he replies. “We don’t even have to leave the ground if you don’t want to.”
“I want to actually fly, Potter - I think by definition that means leaving the ground.”
He grins, and Lily’s stomach swoops as if she were already on the broom. “Fair enough,” he says, and hands her a broom. She takes it a little gingerly.
“I don’t want to be a wimp,” she says slowly, “But it has been a while -”
“It’s not wimpy to be aware of one’s own mortality,” he tells her kindly, although that doesn’t quite reassure her. “I nearly shat myself when I first got on a broom, even though it had been all I could talk about for weeks beforehand. I still get nervous every so often - usually when we’re playing Slytherin.” And he laughs, and so does Lily. “The question is, do you trust me?”
“Not really, no,” Lily replies, but she’s lying.
“Good good,” he says, and winks. “OK, let’s go a bit further in, get a bit more space… right, good. Tell me if I go too fast, or too slow. OK. You remember how to get the broom ready?”
“Think so,” Lily says; she sticks out her hand and shouts, “Up!” The broom soars to her hand, then settles to hover at waist-height.
“Perfect. Now you need to mount your broom - spread your legs and get that shaft between your thighs -”
Lily lets out an undignified snigger. “Potter, really,” she says, scandalised, and he winks. Oh blimey…
“So the broom’s hovering and you get on,” James continues, “no funny business now. Remember to hold tight, but no death grips. Just relax. This is a training broom, it won’t let you go too high.” Lily swings her legs over and sits down; all at once she remembers the terror of that first flying lesson, and she also seems to remember a small scrawny little thing showing off. She smiles to herself, but squeaks when the broom bucks a little, then feels cross. “Don’t worry,” James says, “it’s perfectly safe. I took it out yesterday to check. You just need to shift your hands a bit - yup, like that. Perfect. Now you want to go up a bit, so gently lift the handle of the broom.” He gets on his own broom and demonstrates, rising two feet into the air. “You go down like this,” he says, pointing the nose down, “and left and right is just a matter of leaning. The rest is just balance. How’re you feeling?”
Lily is actually feeling rather turned on, but she doesn’t say that. “Like a first year,” she says.
“That was the intention. By the end of this, you will be a master flyer, but you’ll have no pride at all.” Lily grimaces, and James smirks. “But no, seriously,” he continues, his face once more sincere, “pride has no place when you’re learning anything. You’re going to fall on your face, you’ve just not to care. Pick yourself up and start again, that sort of thing.”
“Cheerful, aren’t you?” Lily grumbles, but she does as she’s told, and then she’s level with James again.
“Good!” he exclaims. “Very good. Happy?”
“Definitely,” Lily says. “Wobbly, but happy.”
“Excellent. Why not try and fly to that post over there? Don’t worry about height for now. Let’s just get you feeling comfortable.”
So Lily sets off and within five yards she’s gone straight into the turf.
“Never mind,” James says with an excellent straight face. “You were holding on too tight - you forced the nose of the broom down. Remember to relax, and try again.”
Her chin jutting with determination, Lily picks herself up and tries again. She gets further this time, but to her humiliation she starts to rise, tries to stop herself, overcompensates, and seconds later smacks into the ground. She’s up again at once, though, and with James’s help and encouragement, she manages to reach the goalpost without further accidents, gaining in confidence with every foot.
“Good girl!” James exclaims as she reaches it. Lily grins. “Now try and get to that one.” Lily’s grin fades.
An hour later she’s battered, bruised and knackered, but she can now fly a complete loop of the Quidditch pitch without a wobble, and it’s been a good fifteen minutes since she fell off.
“That’s my girl!” James crows as she comes in to land, and Lily whoops in satisfaction. “How was that?” he asks as he lands next to her.
“Amazing!” Lily gasps, short of breath but beaming. “I love it.”
“We’ll have you playing Quidditch in no time.”
“Hope so. You’re a good teacher, Mr Potter.”
“You’re a good pupil, Miss Evans.”
Lily gives a little curtsey. “Thankee,” she says, grinning, and James laughs.
“Now I see the clouds are coming in,” he says, “but I think we’ve got time for a quick spin, if you want to?”
“What, go up with you?”
“Yeah,” he replies casually. “Whatcha think?”
Lily knows she really shouldn’t, not if she’s serious about sticking with Sirius, but she tells herself that she just wants to feel what it’s like to really fly and that getting close to James has nothing to do with it. “Yes, please!” she replies, conscience clear.
So James shifts up his broom and says, “Hop on then. And hang on tight.”
Lily swings her leg over and settles onto the broom, slipping her arms around James’s waist. Her heart immediately starts to race, and she stops herself from pressing her face into his jumper.
“Ready?” James asks.
“Ready!”
And then they’re off, straight up like an arrow, and as fast, and Lily feels like she’s left her stomach behind. They fly fast and sure, and James goes from one death-defying stunt to another, loops and spins and hair-raising dives until Lily is laughing aloud with exhilaration, the wind numbing her cheeks and whipping out her hair behind her like a banner. She clings on to James with her arms and to the broom with her legs, and she can’t remember a time when she felt so alive.
“Happy?” James shouts at one point, and Lily squeezes him and shouts back, “Perfectly!”
But then the last scrap of blue sky disappears and rain starts to fall in big, fat drops, and Lily realises it’s over.
“Homeward bound,” James calls, and Lily feels a wrenching sadness out of all proportion - but then she feels only pure fear and excitement as James points the broom almost straight down and they plummet downwards, diving like a hawk after its prey. They’re going so fast Lily can’t see how James is going to pull up in time and for the first time she regrets this - a broken arm would rather spoil the mood - but he judges it perfectly and they touch down as lightly as a feather, just as the rain starts in earnest.
“Well?” he asks, grinning widely.
“Potter -” Lily attempts, but she’s shaking hard. “Potter, you’re a maniac.”
“Part of my charm,” he replies with a wink, and takes her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of the rain.”
Heading for the broom-sheds they splash across the pitch; the rain is freezing but Lily is too full of excitement to care. Still it’s a relief to get under cover, and once inside they collapse against the wall, laughing weakly.
“What an adventure,” Lily says, and James agrees, his eyes shining down at her, and then she’s stepping forward and his arms are around her and - there - he’s kissing her. His lips are warm and soft and his mouth is hot and searching, and he kisses passionately and with much more skill than Lily had expected, although with a hint of reticence that is a wonderful contrast to Sirius. Lily’s heart swoops again at this, beating hard with a powerful, fierce affection, and she finds she can’t get enough of his kisses, kissing deeper and deeper, pushing him back against the wall, fingers twisted into the wet wool of his jumper, trying to get as close as possible to him.
“Evans -” James groans then.
“Lily!” Lily hisses against his mouth. “My name is Lily.”
“Lily,” James whispers, smiling a little, “Lily, Lily, Lily -”
“Oh James…”
“My Lily - my girl -”
“Say it again,” Lily demands, and he does, murmuring her name like a prayer. She’s never heard her name said like that, with such intensity and such passion, and it frightens her a little - but only because she feels an answering passion swelling within her, just as deep and just as strong.
“I’m sorry,” she finds herself saying, “I’m so sorry, James, I was such a bitch to you -”
“It’s fine, Lily.”
“- I was so blind -”
“Honestly, it’s fine -”
“- and by all rights you should say, Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn, because-”
“What?” James interrupts.
“What’s what?” Lily asks, knocked off her stride.
“That quote. What is it?”
Lily pulls away a little - but not far, not far - and stares at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read Gone with the Wind?”
“Nope.”
“Haven’t you even seen the film?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry,” Lily jokes, “don’t think I can do this any more.” And she pretends to go, but James catches her arm and pulls her back to him, back into the circle of his arms.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his fingers lifting her chin so he can look deep into her eyes. “After all, I need you to teach me all about poos and wind.”
~*~
Lily finds Sirius sitting on the window-seat on the seventh floor, the one by the Arithmancy classrooms that looks out over the lake. He’s sitting with his knees up to his chest, staring out at the rain.
“Hey,” Lily says quietly.
“Thought you’d be along,” he replies, his voice a monotone. “Come to dump me, are you?”
“You heard then?”
“I heard.”
“Sirius -” Lily begins, her heart aching.
“Evans,” he replies. “Lily.”
“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry it had to be like this.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the way it is.” Still he hasn’t looked at her; still he stares out into the rain, shoulders hunched. Lily loves him very much just then.
“I’d stay with you if I could,” she says, and for that moment she means it. “I - I’ve had a great time. I should - thank you.”
“No need,” he says, with a ghost of a smile, and Lily has never felt such a monster. “It was my pleasure.”
“And mine.”
“I suppose you like him, then,” Sirius says, after a pause. “I mean - I hope you like him.”
“I like him,” Lily replies. “I - think I sort of love him. Somehow.”
“It’s entirely possible,” Sirius says. “I love him.”
“He -” Lily says, feeling like she should explain, but she stops, unsure of how to proceed.
“Loyalty’s reward,” Sirius says; Lily can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. He continues, “I am actually happy for you. Believe it or not. He’s going to be completely insufferable now, of course - but then he was anyway.” And he laughs. “He’s crazy about you, Lils. Treat him well, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best,” she promises.
“That’s all anyone can ever do.”
Slowly Lily turns to go, but she doesn’t want to leave. Once she’s left, it’s gone for good, he’s gone for good, and with it part of her heart. So she stops, and then she takes a step towards him, and another, and a third, until she can reach out and touch him. But she doesn’t.
“Sirius -” is all she says, and “Will you be ok?”
“I’ll survive,” he says, shrugging.
“I don’t -” she falters, bewildered at his reaction, “but you never liked me.”
And then he turns and looks at her for the first time, and his eyes are kinder than she’s ever seen them, and terribly sad. Slowly he stands up, and cups her face in his hands. “Don’t be silly,” he says gently, “how could anyone not like you?” And he bends down and presses a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Oh Sirius -” Lily says, and she finds she’s crying, and she laughs a little. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be,” he replies. “I’m flattered.” And he grins. “Now fuck off, do. Take him off my hands.”
So Lily turns, and straightens her back, and wipes her eyes. A gentle push in the small of her back, and after a last, watery smile back at Sirius, she walks away.