Turning Point Ch 1
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lily/James
Length: some amount of words, chaptered
Summary: Their beginning is less romance and more...clandestine. "It started a month ago with, as you may have guessed, an argument... She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?" Smut!
I love her. Of course I love her. Well, I mean, I'm as close as a bloke can get to loving a girl without ever having really been given the chance to get to know her. But it's not my bloody fault she's off her rocker and can't stand me. Okay, it's a little bit my fault I suppose, but the bird takes it way too far. So sensitive.
So yeah, when it starts, it's…confusing. To say the least. I mean, I'm straddling the love barrier here and she still sort of hates me, but we're… I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should back up.
It started a month ago with, as you might have guessed, an argument.
"Bloody hell, Evans, you'd think I'd murdered your cat or something." It began pretty normally. I'd pinched her bum on a dare from Sirius-not that I didn't enjoy it-and she had rounded on me, wand awaving and eyes ablazing. Typical stuff. Our mates were hungry and went on to the Great Hall. They knew we'd catch up when we were done. It wasn't exactly their first rodeo, after all.
Huh? What's that? If it was all so routine, then why am I even bothering talking about it? It didn't stay routine; everything changed that night.
The turning point? She had given me the usual-immature, selfish, egotistical, intolerable. Not a great self-esteem booster, but I'm used to it. But for some reason beyond the bounds of normal understanding, she gave me a look I had only seen once: after our OWLs. Utter disgust. The kind you can't summon just for an irritating chap. The kind that makes your soul wither when it's pointed at you. I have no idea why she was so disturbed by my very presence that night, but I guess clear thinking isn't my strong suit when Evans isn't around; I didn't think to puzzle it out. Now, such a soul-withering look might make some people run off with their tails between their legs, but I've never had a keen survival instinct. I chose defensive anger with a side of sneering rather than earnest concern, confusion, or an apology. Hell, even a retreat would have been a better option.
"Lighten up, Evans. I know you tell yourself that no one but me asks you out because I scare all the blokes away, but it's not true. They all just think you're an insufferable prude who couldn't be fun or sexy even if she used all the potions and spells in the world." I didn't want to say it, honest. It all just sort of...came out. Like a hiccup. If a hiccup could be hexed to spit venom at the love of your life. And that's when she layered Utter Disgust with Absolute Loathing and Seething Anger.
For someone who had just put his foot in his mouth and his head up his arse, and who claims to be rather empty-headed and unobservant around a certain redhead, how are you sure how she was feeling? I hear you ask. Good sir, it's all in the face. Pretty much anybody can tell when Lily's mad. Her face gets tomato red and her eyes turn into infernos you can just barely make out through the slits of her eyelids. And the kicker-the true test of rage is whether or not she…
"For somebody who claims to be the man of my dreams, who professes his undying adoration for me-you sure as hell don't seem to respect or even like me. So how about you just leave me the fuck alone?"
…hisses her scathing words through her teeth. Yeah, she was one pissed Head Girl. Now, normally this would have reluctantly turned me on, but not this time.
What? Okay okay, it did turn me on, but her fiery temptress allure was overridden by one painful, sudden, apocalyptic realization. I was never, ever, going to be with Lily Evans.
The look in her eyes, the set of her shoulder, the words she had just spit at me-this wasn't some mating dance that schoolchildren play at anymore. Even I, the last holdout, couldn't see it like that, not after this. It was like Merlin had just Apparated in, hit me over the head with a dusty library tome and Apparated back out. Epiphany of the worst kind.
She was well and truly done with me. I had fucked it up too much to ever come back from. I couldn't breathe. My chest ached. My head felt full of hot blood and I couldn't think.
This is when I did the first big stupid thing (keep a tally; you'll need it). I told the truth.
I told the truth, but in such a twisted way, it made no sense and she never could have guessed the real meaning beneath it all. I didn't like her. I loved her.
"Evans. Really. It took you long enough to cotton on. Of course I don't like you." She had seemed shocked, if the sudden transformation of her eyes from tiny hatred-beam factories to round emeralds under furrowed brows was any indication. I recognized the tone of my own voice, with surprise-it was the same contempt with which I spoke to Snape. This was what I had been reduced to. "If I had never met you, I could have had everything. But your sniveling rule-abiding, your arrogant refusal to just open your god-damned eyes, has ruined my life. How could I fucking like you?" The heat in my head had spread to my whole body, like the worst embarrassment you've ever felt, increased a thousand-fold. It made my breathing shallow and loud and the edges of my vision seem a little gray.
I could tell her anger was back when she stepped forward like a threat, her hand hovering near where I imagined she kept her wand. The heat was unbearable. I'd ruined it? I had no chance? Fine. Then I had nothing to lose. I didn't have to back down to save my dignity, to stop myself going one step too far, doing something too stupid and ruining my chances. I'd already done that, hadn't I?
So I stepped forward, too, mirroring her threat almost simultaneously. Our eyes flicked back and forth between the others'; we were close, so close to each other. She breathed in deep like she was about to let me have it. I decided I'd rather not have it. So I did what seemed the only option at the time.
I grabbed the back of her neck-roughly, like how I'd swipe a Quaffle from the air-and jerked her body to mine so I could kiss her.
Yeah. That's the story of our first kiss. Not really romantic, but the girl made me crazy, okay! Makes me crazy, I guess I should say. At least it was good-you know, like it was a good kiss, not like it was a good decision for me to make. Although…well, we'll get to that later. It was a good kiss. Moan-inducing, even. She never guessed it was only my second attempt at swapping spit (you don't want to hear the story of my first kiss-it was a disastrous summer attempt to get over Evans).
So I kissed her. Her hands had come up between us, her palms flat against my chest. Her arms were tense, but she wasn't pushing me away. Her fingers were digging into my shirt, into my chest. The hand around her neck shifted so my fingers could grip her hair. That was when the first moan came. Or maybe it was more of a gasp. It was some sort of throaty noise that made me shove her against the door a foot away. Her head snapped back and I saw a glimpse of her pale neck that made me suck the pounding pulse point there.
Why do I keep saying "made me" like I had no choice? Because that's what it felt like. Like I had no control-I didn't decide to do anything that I did, I just did it. Sometimes I worry about what would have happened if Lily had said no. Would my control have snapped back? Lily laughs and tells me of course it would have, but it's a scary thought, that she can suck up my self-control like a sponge to water.
But she didn't say no. She grabbed my neck, turning her head so I could reach more of her slender neck. Her left hand must have been fumbling with the door knob because I heard metallic clicking and then we were tumbling into a classroom-empty, thank Merlin. We crashed into a desk and my neck was starting to hurt leaning down to kiss her, so I grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her to the top of a surface I can now identify as one of those long counter-like tables. I wasn't really paying attention at the time.
She pulled my lips back to hers and I could feel her legs wrap around my hips. I swear to Merlin I almost came right there. My hands ran up the outsides of her thighs-I couldn't feel her skin (damn tights), but I remember thinking how perfectly shaped they were. Made for my hands to curve around them. Those hands found a home just on top of her hips as her teeth grazed the skin of my neck. My fingers gripped tight on the bones and muscles of the place where her hips and waist met when her core brushed against my crotch and spasms wracked my body. That was about when my hands realized there were more interesting places they could be. One snaked around to the small of her back to yank her closer to me while the other migrated upward.
The moans were great- the moans made me feel invincible. But the shudders. Oh, fuck, when my thumb grazed over the top of her bra through her blouse, and she shuddered like a junkie taking a hit…there went the last of my common sense and decency. She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?
I bet you can tell where this is going. And I bet you're thinking I'm making all of this up. I would have thought that, too. I would have said, Look, mate. Evans and Potter? Even if she could stand him, no way in hell would a prude like Evans bang a guy before they've even been on a single bloody date! Yeah, that's the funny thing about being repressed, obsessed, and everything that we were. When it rains, it pours. And, sweet Merlin yes, that can be taken literally.
And here comes the part where I should have stopped. Where, if I could just get McGonagall to just fucking grant one of my ten bloody requests for a Time Turner, I would go. Well, there are a lot of things I would change. But remember that my epiphany (that Evans and I would never be together, go figure) was the turning point, where everything tipped?… well, this part was the point of no return.
Her hands had snaked under my shirt and after that first shudder, she whispered something and my shirt flew off. It was just like my Lily to use wandless magic to get me out of my shirt instead of, oh you know, unbuttoning it like a normal person would have. I think I laughed because I remember how good it felt to have her lips crash against my open mouth and swallow the sounds. Her hands were all over me and the heat was unbearable. I was pushing against her lower back, scooting her as close to me as I could get her, feeling the heat radiate from her…my knees almost buckled at the thought.
There was some niggling feeling at the back of my head. I didn't know what it was, only that I really hated it because it made me feel as though I should draw back from Lily, stop what we were doing. It was insistent, though, distracting me, and I was on the verge of pulling away when her little hands were on my belt. She was undoing my belt buckle and the tips of her fingers were just barely grazing my crotch. I had thought breathing was hard before, but now I panted shallowly, and, looking back, I probably should have been pretty embarrassed with how eager and inexperienced I must have seemed. But I sure as hell wasn't thinking anything at the time, except maybe Merlin, Lily's undoing my trousers, Lily Evans has her hands in the vicinity of my trousers, holy buggering shit are we about to shag?
You know how when you're a wee little wizard, before you get your Hogwarts letter, your magic manifests when you're really emotional, like scared or angry? I accidentally turned my evil neighbor's pool water into an itching powder concoction after he had taunted me about my flying skills. Well, once you get a wand and learn to use it, things like that don't really happen anymore. I didn't even know it was possible, until just then. I also didn't know accidental wandless magic could be triggered by lust. Until just then.
My hands had moved from her bum and breasts to slide up her thighs, under her skirt, to skim the edge of her pants over her tights. I was touching Lily Evans' underthings (through her tights, but still). I had to pull my lips from hers to breathe, I couldn't breathe Icouldn'tbreathe. My eyes opened automatically and met hers.
We were still, our hands motionless and our eyes unblinking. Even my breathing seemed to, finally, slow. Until her lids fluttered and my fingers flexed of their own accord and suddenly…where were her tights? And her pants? They were there just a second ago. Merlin, her pants disappeared and she looked just as surprised as I was, and I remembered thinking, I wish this stupid scrap of clothing would just go away already, and then…it did. Voila. Who needs a wand when you have raging hormones and the hottest girl in school unzipping your trousers? Accidental wandless magic triggered by lust. Who knew?
I had thought about it, of course. Daydreamed, fantasized, woken shivering from wet dreams about what it would be like to kiss Lily, touch her, be inside her. But on those occasions when I wasn't in the grip of lust, I had always thought I would be nervous. That if it ever happened, I would be so hesitant, because, really, what did I know about pleasing a woman?
But I'm James Potter, and James Potter has always been good at playing it by ear, faking it until you make it, taking the bull by the horns, and I didn't feel unsure at all. Not with the feel of her smooth, cool skin under my burning hands.
My thumb moved down and over and oh, she was wet. I had never really imagined that before, but now I couldn't believe I wasn't always obsessed with it. The slick heat that says she wants you, too, that invites you in…I wondered how it tasted. When my thumb stroked up and down, she gasped and her back arched. She seemed surprised and her hands went behind her to steady herself on the table.
It was amazing. When her head righted and we locked gazes, I stroked again and she shuddered and arched and I knew, even if it was only for that instant, she was mine. Only I had ever (could ever, I told myself) made her feel like this. She had never looked at anyone else with an expression so lost and open and alive. I wasn't even disappointed her hands weren't near my crotch anymore, not if I could make her squirm like this. Each new reaction I elicited was the best, by far, the thing I was sure could never be topped. Moaning, shivering, squirming, arching, gasping… When she somehow managed to do all five at once, I pushed her down so she was lying on the table (you know, the counter-type one) and I was on top of her, but I still can't remember climbing onto the table myself.
We were kissing again and my fingers worked faster and she whimpered into my mouth and her hands were inside my briefs, inside my briefs, insidemybriefs! You wouldn't think it would feel that much better, a girl touching your cock instead of just yourself, but it does. It really, really does.
I found her weakness soon after that, nibbling her earlobe and letting my hot breath ghost over the sensitive skin. It became my weakness, too, when she gave the to-this-day unmatched, unsurpassable reaction.
"James."
Suddenly she and I were working in tandem to push my trousers and briefs down my pants. Her shirt that I only then realized was still on-how could I have let that stay on so long?-I ripped off. I didn't stop to look at her until we had wriggled her skirt up over her head and I had finagled open the fastenings of her bra.
Then, I looked. I nudged her down until she was lying again and closed my eyes for a moment, like I could imprint the image in my brain. She seemed so small when my big hand lightly skimmed over her torso, collarbone, hips. I could see her blush from the corner of my eye, but when I slid two fingers inside of her, her eyes fluttered open and shut and her back arched up and her mouth opened in a way that I could tell meant she wasn't breathing.
I stole her breath away.
Soon, I had found a rhythm that made her gasps and moans and heavy breathing escalate, until I had to cast a Muffliato spell under my breath (and without my wand (who needs to work on their wandless magic now, Flitwick?)). That was about the only common sense thing I was capable of just then.
It had started to hurt, my erection that was still pulsing. I had never experienced this painful need for release before and then, as if she could hear my thoughts, her hand grasped it and slid, up and down. It suddenly got difficult to stay propped up on one elbow, hovering over and just to the side of her. I swung my knee over her thighs so I was straddling her and had better access to her mouth.
How long had we been in there? I'm not sure, but it seemed like years, like longer than any man has ever waited for release in the entire history of mankind. So when her legs tucked up, escaping the prison my thighs had made for them, and latched around my back so that my hips fell forward and grazed against her core, I almost wept at the sensation. It helped the ache, but also seemed to make it worse somehow.
She whimpered and said my name again. I found the entrance by instinct, and might have hesitated, if she hadn't squeezed her legs around me and lifted her hips to push me inside. She clenched, eyes screwed shut in pain, but released a ragged breath after a moment and kissed me senseless until I forgot to worry and slid out and back in.
I would describe the feeling, but I really wouldn't know how. Warm, mostly. And not just down there, but everywhere, like napping by a fire and waking up feeling toasty warm down to your bones. My head found the perfect spot in the crook of neck and we rocked and moaned and sweat our way to a sweet climax.
I don't think I technically blacked out or anything, but there was definitely a feeling of coming out of a comatose state when I lifted my head a few minutes later. My face and chest felt flushed and I realized I was probably crushing her a bit under my weight, so I struggled up onto my elbows-my arms felt like noodles-and looked down at her, a smile on my face.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
That's, I would say, about when reality slapped me upside the face with a rotten herring. I rolled off of her to collect myself and figure out what the hell I should say and she sat up and started gathering her things.
"Lily, wait. I love you. I've loved you since…well, forever, it seems like. I want to be with you so much, but this isn't how I wanted it to happen. But, if you're willing to give me a chance, I'd love nothing more than to prove to you that this wasn't a mistake."
That's what I should have said. What I actually said: "Uh, Lily?"
Brilliant. Smooth. I still wanna slam my head against a wall when I think about that bit of genius. She acted like she hadn't heard me. She summoned her buttons to her and repaired her shirt with two whispered spells, tugging her hair out from her collar.
I reached a hand out, to stop her, to touch her, to do something, to make this stop. Why was this happening? It didn't have to be like this. She was leaving and I knew, I just knew, that everything would turn to shit if she left like this. But she wasn't facing me, couldn't see my hand, and I couldn't reach her from my position. I rose to walk over to her, then became very aware of how naked I was. And how clothed she was. I yanked on my trousers and ignored my burning cheeks (the ones on my face. Come on guys, get your minds out of the gutter).
I should have stayed naked. I think my hurried dressing was some sort of signal to her. Like the sound of a zipper means "we are now at the 'thank you, ma'am' stage of 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am'." Her back was still to me, but her head turned to the side just enough that I could see her profile, but I was probably only barely visible in her periphery.
"This never happened. We won't tell a soul. We'll do our Head duties, and that is all." I almost asked what she was going to threaten me with-the old Lily would never have trusted me to keep a secret without a threat looming over me-but was smart enough not to.
"Lily, wait-" I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I would have come up with something if she hadn't cut me off.
"Goodbye, Potter." She walked out the door with a purposeful stride.
What just happened?
You might be thinking, "Sheesh, that was a painful end to the story, I'm so glad it's over." Don't get too comfy, though. The worst has yet to come. Now you know the story of our first time. Even less romantic than when you thought it was just the story of our first kiss, right? No use telling me. I already know.
I'd like to stay I smartened up and marched up to her dormitory to tell her we couldn't leave it like that, to tell her I love her and want to be with her. Hell, I'd like to say I was smart enough to realize how depressed I should be just then. But I wasn't. I walked back to the dorm in a daze, my shirt (which I had found in a corner of the room) rumpled and badly buttoned. I never remembered to put my briefs back on. Oh well, some poor soul would one day find a discarded pair of used pants in an abandoned classroom. Then I realized that Lily wasn't wearing any underwear, either. She couldn't be. We weren't even sure where they hell they'd gone to after that bit of accidental magic.
We were both walking the castle corridors, going commando. I would have smirked at the thought if I hadn't been so busy being so damn confused. I made it to my dorm in a daze, only surfacing to the real world to see if Lily was in the common room. She wasn't. Of course not.
The Marauders were in the dorm, though. When I walked in, I saw them sitting on Remus's bed, the Marauders' Map spread in the middle. When they spotted me, they jumped up and whooped and hollered and slapped me on the back. They had seen us on the map, guessed what had happened.
They didn't guess all of it. I drifted over to his bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. After a moment of silence, Sirius shuffled over.
"Hey, mate." He cleared his throat. "What happened?"
"She left. Told me not to tell anyone. That it never happened." It didn't sound like my voice, but when I said it aloud it began to sink in.
What the fuck had I done?
Pairing: Lily/James
Length: some amount of words, chaptered
Summary: Their beginning is less romance and more...clandestine. "It started a month ago with, as you may have guessed, an argument... She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?" Smut!
I love her. Of course I love her. Well, I mean, I'm as close as a bloke can get to loving a girl without ever having really been given the chance to get to know her. But it's not my bloody fault she's off her rocker and can't stand me. Okay, it's a little bit my fault I suppose, but the bird takes it way too far. So sensitive.
So yeah, when it starts, it's…confusing. To say the least. I mean, I'm straddling the love barrier here and she still sort of hates me, but we're… I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should back up.
It started a month ago with, as you might have guessed, an argument.
"Bloody hell, Evans, you'd think I'd murdered your cat or something." It began pretty normally. I'd pinched her bum on a dare from Sirius-not that I didn't enjoy it-and she had rounded on me, wand awaving and eyes ablazing. Typical stuff. Our mates were hungry and went on to the Great Hall. They knew we'd catch up when we were done. It wasn't exactly their first rodeo, after all.
Huh? What's that? If it was all so routine, then why am I even bothering talking about it? It didn't stay routine; everything changed that night.
The turning point? She had given me the usual-immature, selfish, egotistical, intolerable. Not a great self-esteem booster, but I'm used to it. But for some reason beyond the bounds of normal understanding, she gave me a look I had only seen once: after our OWLs. Utter disgust. The kind you can't summon just for an irritating chap. The kind that makes your soul wither when it's pointed at you. I have no idea why she was so disturbed by my very presence that night, but I guess clear thinking isn't my strong suit when Evans isn't around; I didn't think to puzzle it out. Now, such a soul-withering look might make some people run off with their tails between their legs, but I've never had a keen survival instinct. I chose defensive anger with a side of sneering rather than earnest concern, confusion, or an apology. Hell, even a retreat would have been a better option.
"Lighten up, Evans. I know you tell yourself that no one but me asks you out because I scare all the blokes away, but it's not true. They all just think you're an insufferable prude who couldn't be fun or sexy even if she used all the potions and spells in the world." I didn't want to say it, honest. It all just sort of...came out. Like a hiccup. If a hiccup could be hexed to spit venom at the love of your life. And that's when she layered Utter Disgust with Absolute Loathing and Seething Anger.
For someone who had just put his foot in his mouth and his head up his arse, and who claims to be rather empty-headed and unobservant around a certain redhead, how are you sure how she was feeling? I hear you ask. Good sir, it's all in the face. Pretty much anybody can tell when Lily's mad. Her face gets tomato red and her eyes turn into infernos you can just barely make out through the slits of her eyelids. And the kicker-the true test of rage is whether or not she…
"For somebody who claims to be the man of my dreams, who professes his undying adoration for me-you sure as hell don't seem to respect or even like me. So how about you just leave me the fuck alone?"
…hisses her scathing words through her teeth. Yeah, she was one pissed Head Girl. Now, normally this would have reluctantly turned me on, but not this time.
What? Okay okay, it did turn me on, but her fiery temptress allure was overridden by one painful, sudden, apocalyptic realization. I was never, ever, going to be with Lily Evans.
The look in her eyes, the set of her shoulder, the words she had just spit at me-this wasn't some mating dance that schoolchildren play at anymore. Even I, the last holdout, couldn't see it like that, not after this. It was like Merlin had just Apparated in, hit me over the head with a dusty library tome and Apparated back out. Epiphany of the worst kind.
She was well and truly done with me. I had fucked it up too much to ever come back from. I couldn't breathe. My chest ached. My head felt full of hot blood and I couldn't think.
This is when I did the first big stupid thing (keep a tally; you'll need it). I told the truth.
I told the truth, but in such a twisted way, it made no sense and she never could have guessed the real meaning beneath it all. I didn't like her. I loved her.
"Evans. Really. It took you long enough to cotton on. Of course I don't like you." She had seemed shocked, if the sudden transformation of her eyes from tiny hatred-beam factories to round emeralds under furrowed brows was any indication. I recognized the tone of my own voice, with surprise-it was the same contempt with which I spoke to Snape. This was what I had been reduced to. "If I had never met you, I could have had everything. But your sniveling rule-abiding, your arrogant refusal to just open your god-damned eyes, has ruined my life. How could I fucking like you?" The heat in my head had spread to my whole body, like the worst embarrassment you've ever felt, increased a thousand-fold. It made my breathing shallow and loud and the edges of my vision seem a little gray.
I could tell her anger was back when she stepped forward like a threat, her hand hovering near where I imagined she kept her wand. The heat was unbearable. I'd ruined it? I had no chance? Fine. Then I had nothing to lose. I didn't have to back down to save my dignity, to stop myself going one step too far, doing something too stupid and ruining my chances. I'd already done that, hadn't I?
So I stepped forward, too, mirroring her threat almost simultaneously. Our eyes flicked back and forth between the others'; we were close, so close to each other. She breathed in deep like she was about to let me have it. I decided I'd rather not have it. So I did what seemed the only option at the time.
I grabbed the back of her neck-roughly, like how I'd swipe a Quaffle from the air-and jerked her body to mine so I could kiss her.
Yeah. That's the story of our first kiss. Not really romantic, but the girl made me crazy, okay! Makes me crazy, I guess I should say. At least it was good-you know, like it was a good kiss, not like it was a good decision for me to make. Although…well, we'll get to that later. It was a good kiss. Moan-inducing, even. She never guessed it was only my second attempt at swapping spit (you don't want to hear the story of my first kiss-it was a disastrous summer attempt to get over Evans).
So I kissed her. Her hands had come up between us, her palms flat against my chest. Her arms were tense, but she wasn't pushing me away. Her fingers were digging into my shirt, into my chest. The hand around her neck shifted so my fingers could grip her hair. That was when the first moan came. Or maybe it was more of a gasp. It was some sort of throaty noise that made me shove her against the door a foot away. Her head snapped back and I saw a glimpse of her pale neck that made me suck the pounding pulse point there.
Why do I keep saying "made me" like I had no choice? Because that's what it felt like. Like I had no control-I didn't decide to do anything that I did, I just did it. Sometimes I worry about what would have happened if Lily had said no. Would my control have snapped back? Lily laughs and tells me of course it would have, but it's a scary thought, that she can suck up my self-control like a sponge to water.
But she didn't say no. She grabbed my neck, turning her head so I could reach more of her slender neck. Her left hand must have been fumbling with the door knob because I heard metallic clicking and then we were tumbling into a classroom-empty, thank Merlin. We crashed into a desk and my neck was starting to hurt leaning down to kiss her, so I grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her to the top of a surface I can now identify as one of those long counter-like tables. I wasn't really paying attention at the time.
She pulled my lips back to hers and I could feel her legs wrap around my hips. I swear to Merlin I almost came right there. My hands ran up the outsides of her thighs-I couldn't feel her skin (damn tights), but I remember thinking how perfectly shaped they were. Made for my hands to curve around them. Those hands found a home just on top of her hips as her teeth grazed the skin of my neck. My fingers gripped tight on the bones and muscles of the place where her hips and waist met when her core brushed against my crotch and spasms wracked my body. That was about when my hands realized there were more interesting places they could be. One snaked around to the small of her back to yank her closer to me while the other migrated upward.
The moans were great- the moans made me feel invincible. But the shudders. Oh, fuck, when my thumb grazed over the top of her bra through her blouse, and she shuddered like a junkie taking a hit…there went the last of my common sense and decency. She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?
I bet you can tell where this is going. And I bet you're thinking I'm making all of this up. I would have thought that, too. I would have said, Look, mate. Evans and Potter? Even if she could stand him, no way in hell would a prude like Evans bang a guy before they've even been on a single bloody date! Yeah, that's the funny thing about being repressed, obsessed, and everything that we were. When it rains, it pours. And, sweet Merlin yes, that can be taken literally.
And here comes the part where I should have stopped. Where, if I could just get McGonagall to just fucking grant one of my ten bloody requests for a Time Turner, I would go. Well, there are a lot of things I would change. But remember that my epiphany (that Evans and I would never be together, go figure) was the turning point, where everything tipped?… well, this part was the point of no return.
Her hands had snaked under my shirt and after that first shudder, she whispered something and my shirt flew off. It was just like my Lily to use wandless magic to get me out of my shirt instead of, oh you know, unbuttoning it like a normal person would have. I think I laughed because I remember how good it felt to have her lips crash against my open mouth and swallow the sounds. Her hands were all over me and the heat was unbearable. I was pushing against her lower back, scooting her as close to me as I could get her, feeling the heat radiate from her…my knees almost buckled at the thought.
There was some niggling feeling at the back of my head. I didn't know what it was, only that I really hated it because it made me feel as though I should draw back from Lily, stop what we were doing. It was insistent, though, distracting me, and I was on the verge of pulling away when her little hands were on my belt. She was undoing my belt buckle and the tips of her fingers were just barely grazing my crotch. I had thought breathing was hard before, but now I panted shallowly, and, looking back, I probably should have been pretty embarrassed with how eager and inexperienced I must have seemed. But I sure as hell wasn't thinking anything at the time, except maybe Merlin, Lily's undoing my trousers, Lily Evans has her hands in the vicinity of my trousers, holy buggering shit are we about to shag?
You know how when you're a wee little wizard, before you get your Hogwarts letter, your magic manifests when you're really emotional, like scared or angry? I accidentally turned my evil neighbor's pool water into an itching powder concoction after he had taunted me about my flying skills. Well, once you get a wand and learn to use it, things like that don't really happen anymore. I didn't even know it was possible, until just then. I also didn't know accidental wandless magic could be triggered by lust. Until just then.
My hands had moved from her bum and breasts to slide up her thighs, under her skirt, to skim the edge of her pants over her tights. I was touching Lily Evans' underthings (through her tights, but still). I had to pull my lips from hers to breathe, I couldn't breathe Icouldn'tbreathe. My eyes opened automatically and met hers.
We were still, our hands motionless and our eyes unblinking. Even my breathing seemed to, finally, slow. Until her lids fluttered and my fingers flexed of their own accord and suddenly…where were her tights? And her pants? They were there just a second ago. Merlin, her pants disappeared and she looked just as surprised as I was, and I remembered thinking, I wish this stupid scrap of clothing would just go away already, and then…it did. Voila. Who needs a wand when you have raging hormones and the hottest girl in school unzipping your trousers? Accidental wandless magic triggered by lust. Who knew?
I had thought about it, of course. Daydreamed, fantasized, woken shivering from wet dreams about what it would be like to kiss Lily, touch her, be inside her. But on those occasions when I wasn't in the grip of lust, I had always thought I would be nervous. That if it ever happened, I would be so hesitant, because, really, what did I know about pleasing a woman?
But I'm James Potter, and James Potter has always been good at playing it by ear, faking it until you make it, taking the bull by the horns, and I didn't feel unsure at all. Not with the feel of her smooth, cool skin under my burning hands.
My thumb moved down and over and oh, she was wet. I had never really imagined that before, but now I couldn't believe I wasn't always obsessed with it. The slick heat that says she wants you, too, that invites you in…I wondered how it tasted. When my thumb stroked up and down, she gasped and her back arched. She seemed surprised and her hands went behind her to steady herself on the table.
It was amazing. When her head righted and we locked gazes, I stroked again and she shuddered and arched and I knew, even if it was only for that instant, she was mine. Only I had ever (could ever, I told myself) made her feel like this. She had never looked at anyone else with an expression so lost and open and alive. I wasn't even disappointed her hands weren't near my crotch anymore, not if I could make her squirm like this. Each new reaction I elicited was the best, by far, the thing I was sure could never be topped. Moaning, shivering, squirming, arching, gasping… When she somehow managed to do all five at once, I pushed her down so she was lying on the table (you know, the counter-type one) and I was on top of her, but I still can't remember climbing onto the table myself.
We were kissing again and my fingers worked faster and she whimpered into my mouth and her hands were inside my briefs, inside my briefs, insidemybriefs! You wouldn't think it would feel that much better, a girl touching your cock instead of just yourself, but it does. It really, really does.
I found her weakness soon after that, nibbling her earlobe and letting my hot breath ghost over the sensitive skin. It became my weakness, too, when she gave the to-this-day unmatched, unsurpassable reaction.
"James."
Suddenly she and I were working in tandem to push my trousers and briefs down my pants. Her shirt that I only then realized was still on-how could I have let that stay on so long?-I ripped off. I didn't stop to look at her until we had wriggled her skirt up over her head and I had finagled open the fastenings of her bra.
Then, I looked. I nudged her down until she was lying again and closed my eyes for a moment, like I could imprint the image in my brain. She seemed so small when my big hand lightly skimmed over her torso, collarbone, hips. I could see her blush from the corner of my eye, but when I slid two fingers inside of her, her eyes fluttered open and shut and her back arched up and her mouth opened in a way that I could tell meant she wasn't breathing.
I stole her breath away.
Soon, I had found a rhythm that made her gasps and moans and heavy breathing escalate, until I had to cast a Muffliato spell under my breath (and without my wand (who needs to work on their wandless magic now, Flitwick?)). That was about the only common sense thing I was capable of just then.
It had started to hurt, my erection that was still pulsing. I had never experienced this painful need for release before and then, as if she could hear my thoughts, her hand grasped it and slid, up and down. It suddenly got difficult to stay propped up on one elbow, hovering over and just to the side of her. I swung my knee over her thighs so I was straddling her and had better access to her mouth.
How long had we been in there? I'm not sure, but it seemed like years, like longer than any man has ever waited for release in the entire history of mankind. So when her legs tucked up, escaping the prison my thighs had made for them, and latched around my back so that my hips fell forward and grazed against her core, I almost wept at the sensation. It helped the ache, but also seemed to make it worse somehow.
She whimpered and said my name again. I found the entrance by instinct, and might have hesitated, if she hadn't squeezed her legs around me and lifted her hips to push me inside. She clenched, eyes screwed shut in pain, but released a ragged breath after a moment and kissed me senseless until I forgot to worry and slid out and back in.
I would describe the feeling, but I really wouldn't know how. Warm, mostly. And not just down there, but everywhere, like napping by a fire and waking up feeling toasty warm down to your bones. My head found the perfect spot in the crook of neck and we rocked and moaned and sweat our way to a sweet climax.
I don't think I technically blacked out or anything, but there was definitely a feeling of coming out of a comatose state when I lifted my head a few minutes later. My face and chest felt flushed and I realized I was probably crushing her a bit under my weight, so I struggled up onto my elbows-my arms felt like noodles-and looked down at her, a smile on my face.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
That's, I would say, about when reality slapped me upside the face with a rotten herring. I rolled off of her to collect myself and figure out what the hell I should say and she sat up and started gathering her things.
"Lily, wait. I love you. I've loved you since…well, forever, it seems like. I want to be with you so much, but this isn't how I wanted it to happen. But, if you're willing to give me a chance, I'd love nothing more than to prove to you that this wasn't a mistake."
That's what I should have said. What I actually said: "Uh, Lily?"
Brilliant. Smooth. I still wanna slam my head against a wall when I think about that bit of genius. She acted like she hadn't heard me. She summoned her buttons to her and repaired her shirt with two whispered spells, tugging her hair out from her collar.
I reached a hand out, to stop her, to touch her, to do something, to make this stop. Why was this happening? It didn't have to be like this. She was leaving and I knew, I just knew, that everything would turn to shit if she left like this. But she wasn't facing me, couldn't see my hand, and I couldn't reach her from my position. I rose to walk over to her, then became very aware of how naked I was. And how clothed she was. I yanked on my trousers and ignored my burning cheeks (the ones on my face. Come on guys, get your minds out of the gutter).
I should have stayed naked. I think my hurried dressing was some sort of signal to her. Like the sound of a zipper means "we are now at the 'thank you, ma'am' stage of 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am'." Her back was still to me, but her head turned to the side just enough that I could see her profile, but I was probably only barely visible in her periphery.
"This never happened. We won't tell a soul. We'll do our Head duties, and that is all." I almost asked what she was going to threaten me with-the old Lily would never have trusted me to keep a secret without a threat looming over me-but was smart enough not to.
"Lily, wait-" I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I would have come up with something if she hadn't cut me off.
"Goodbye, Potter." She walked out the door with a purposeful stride.
What just happened?
You might be thinking, "Sheesh, that was a painful end to the story, I'm so glad it's over." Don't get too comfy, though. The worst has yet to come. Now you know the story of our first time. Even less romantic than when you thought it was just the story of our first kiss, right? No use telling me. I already know.
I'd like to stay I smartened up and marched up to her dormitory to tell her we couldn't leave it like that, to tell her I love her and want to be with her. Hell, I'd like to say I was smart enough to realize how depressed I should be just then. But I wasn't. I walked back to the dorm in a daze, my shirt (which I had found in a corner of the room) rumpled and badly buttoned. I never remembered to put my briefs back on. Oh well, some poor soul would one day find a discarded pair of used pants in an abandoned classroom. Then I realized that Lily wasn't wearing any underwear, either. She couldn't be. We weren't even sure where they hell they'd gone to after that bit of accidental magic.
We were both walking the castle corridors, going commando. I would have smirked at the thought if I hadn't been so busy being so damn confused. I made it to my dorm in a daze, only surfacing to the real world to see if Lily was in the common room. She wasn't. Of course not.
The Marauders were in the dorm, though. When I walked in, I saw them sitting on Remus's bed, the Marauders' Map spread in the middle. When they spotted me, they jumped up and whooped and hollered and slapped me on the back. They had seen us on the map, guessed what had happened.
They didn't guess all of it. I drifted over to his bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. After a moment of silence, Sirius shuffled over.
"Hey, mate." He cleared his throat. "What happened?"
"She left. Told me not to tell anyone. That it never happened." It didn't sound like my voice, but when I said it aloud it began to sink in.
What the fuck had I done?