Chapter 2
Years of practice telling lies to cover up his various misdeeds and pranks was the only thing keeping James from letting the opportunity he’d just been handed go to waste.
He knew Sirius could tell he was lying through his teeth, but otherwise he thought he was doing a pretty good job with the performance of his lifetime. He had no idea what was coming out of his mouth—apparently he’d asked Lily to the Yule Ball serenading her under a sprig of mistletoe—but so far his story was standing up to the scrutiny of their friends.
He glanced at Lily again. She was still wearing a slightly dazed expression; her cheeks tinged an endearing pink. The obvious relief on her face felt like a gift. Lily letting him help her was the subject of at least half James’ daydreams.
James felt the familiar tug he always felt when he looked at Lily. Like there was a thread attached to his ribs that made his heart stutter every time he glanced her way. He should have been used to her beauty by now, but it managed to catch him by surprise no matter how many times he saw her. Her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Her features were delicate and precise, from the feathery, soft fringe over her forehead, to her narrow nose, to her small, pointed chin. Her lips stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin—he didn’t know if it was lipstick or a natural color, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that they were always perfect cherry red. Resting, her lips fell into a little pout, but when she smiled she looked impish and playful, one side of her nose crinkling adorably.
But mostly it was Lily’s eyes that brought James to his knees (mentally, and on one or two mortifying occasions, physically). Framed by thick, dark lashes, her eyes were a perfect emerald green. He wanted to spend at least a hundred years memorizing their exact color. Sharp and watchful and flashing with intelligence, he’d also seen them soften with infinite kindness. When a first year got homesick and needed comforting; when a baby bowtruckle didn’t want to let go of her sleeve; when she fondly watched Mary and Marlene bickering over breakfast.
He’d always thought that maybe maybe if it was just the undeniable physical pull towards Lily he always felt, he might have been able to overcome it and move on. He could have contented himself with daydreams of her softly curved body spread like a feast in his bed. Gods knew he’d spent hours imagining the exact shape of her full breasts and how they’d look in his palms. Her creamy legs tangled in his sheets, opening just for him.
But infuriatingly, Lily was also simply the best person he’d ever met. He loved her fierceness, her fight. He loved the way she worked her ass off, the way she quietly and steadily earned the respect of every professor at Hogwarts, and every student. He loved the way she ran towards people who were friendless or scared or sad, when other people looked away. He loved the beauty of her magic, they way she gravitated not towards the most powerful spells, but towards the most delicate, intricate charms. He loved the way she was grumpy in the mornings, the way she’d never figured out when to give up on studying and go to bed. He loved the way she always laughed like she was startled into it—the way it sounded more real because she never seemed to expect it.
James wasn’t deluding himself. He’d known as soon as he’d seen the panic in her perfect, green eyes that she hadn’t planned to announce she was going to the Yule Ball with him. She’d probably assumed (rightly, damn it) that he’d be a safe bet as a fake date. It was pretty well known that while he might be available for a snog in a broom closet, he never dated. Ever. Not unless and until Lily Evans said yes. And anyway, he’d given up on broom closets once he’d realized no amount of distraction or experimentation or trying to feel something for another girl was going to dislodge Lily from the throne in his heart. He’d spent the last few months coming to terms with the fact that he’d just have to content himself with daydreams of her—and maybe, if he was lucky, friendship.
Up until about two seconds ago, he’d been certain he had more chance of becoming Minister of Magic than he did of dating Lily Evans. To be fair, with his background and talent, his chances of becoming Minister of Magic were not insignificant. But still. He shuddered when he remembered how he used to act around Lily—at the memory of the moment he’d learned what she thought of him. Maybe it was because he was a spoiled only child, always praised for whatever he did. Not that that was a good excuse. But he’d always assumed that even if Lily didn’t accept his proposals, they were at least taken as a compliment. Until that day two years ago…
Possibly the worst thing about loving Lily was he even felt bad about the way he’d humiliated Sniv—Snape, he reminded himself—in front of everyone at the lake. He’d approached Lily that night in the common room.
“You can’t have meant that. You must know I’m not like him.”
“I don’t see any great difference between a bigot and a bully.”
“He gives as good as he gets, Evans. You heard him. I couldn’t just let it go—nobody has the right to speak to you that way.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Potter!”
"I knowthat. I really do. Look, Evans. I promise I’m not like that, not really. If you’d just give me a chance I’d prove it to you.”
“Are you joking? You must be joking. You can’t possibly think after today I’d ever want to speak to you again, let alone—” she spluttered. “Potter, for yearsyou’ve harassed me. I’ve told you ‘no' a thousand times, but you insist on asking me out—publicly!—again and again. Do you not see how coercive that is? Like I’ll say ‘yes’ if enough people are watching? It’s mortifying for me, you know. I hate being the center of attention, and you’ve made my love life everybody’s business—it’s the laughingstock of this whole school. I know it’s all just some big joke to you, but I need to get it through your thick head that I want you to STOP. I know Snape is a slimy git, but you humiliated him today, just like you’ve humiliated me. Repeatedly. Why would I hate you any less than he does?”
James had recoiled. “Harassed you? Evans, I—I’m in lovewith you.”
She’d snorted. “If that’s true, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
"I do! I love you, Evans!” he’d reiterated, desperately, feeling like the thread of the conversation was unspooling in his hands.
“No, you don’t,” she’d hissed fiercely. “You’re infatuated. You’re only obsessed with me and Snape because we’re the only ones who aren’t obsessed with you.”
James felt like he’d been hit with a stinging jinx. He stared at her in stunned silence, his jaw open in shock. This—this was really how she saw him? He was horrified. Worse than horrified. He was deeply ashamed.
“Evans, gods. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies.”
“Merlin, Evans, if that’s how you feel, I swear on my magic I’ll never ask you out again.”
He’d watched her walk away feeling like the biggest fool in the world. Feeling like he’d fucked up the only thing he’d ever wanted to get right.
Every time the memory of that day at the lake and its aftermath resurfaced, James felt like he’d taken a bludger to the stomach. Shame rose like bile in his throat. She was right. He had been an arrogant toerag, a bully, a puffed up ego. It had never occurred to him how his behavior might seem from her perspective. Being treated with fond indulgence his entire life, he’d assumed his half-playful pursuit of her had been received the same way it would with anybody else. Gods what a colossal idiot he’d been.
He’d dedicated the last year and a half to showing Lily he could be everything she admired in people. Responsible. Kind. Protective. Loyal. Well, he’d always been loyal, but it couldn’t hurt.
James thought something might have changed between them after Halloween. The image of Lily asleep in the hospital bed, her face worn and as pale as the pillow she lay on, still haunted him. But though she was considerably less frosty towards him, it hadn’t quite worked out the way it did in his mind whenever he fantasized about rescuing her from some terrible evil.
He still didn’t understand how he’d known she needed help that night. It had felt like ancient, before-time magic—he’d just known he needed to find Lily. After that night, he’d scoured the restricted section books on Animagi, trying to figure out if it was something to do with animal instincts, but he’d come up empty. He knew if he asked Dumbledore, the headmaster say something barmy like “love.” So James had been forced to accept that answer for lack of a better one.
But despite his best saving-Lily-Evans heroics, it wasn’t until two minutes ago that he’d had any hope that she’d meaningfully started to see him differently. The irony didn’t escape him. It was only by not asking her out, that she’d landed right in his lap. A tantalizing image of Lily actually in his lap flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t get his hopes up. Or anything else for that matter. It would be a fatal mistake.
James felt her eyes on him and glanced over. It still took some getting used to—that she didn’t immediately glare at him like he’d kicked a pygmy puff, or sniff and look away, or raise a disapproving eyebrow. She was just looking at him—dare he say gratefully?—her emerald eyes flicking over his face. He couldn’t tell whether she was disgusted or impressed with the way he’d made up their supposed whirlwind romance on the spot.
He could’ve spent all night inventing stories about his and Lily’s budding romance for an audience, but what he really wanted—needed—was to talk to her. Plus, they had their rounds to do and that would give them a chance to be alone.
“Ready, Evans?”
Lily jumped and squeaked. “For what?”
She was looking at him with such alarm, he might have just proposed they head for the altar and get married.
His heart pinched. He only had himself to blame for her mistrust. “For rounds. Keep your knickers on.”
“Or don’t,” crooned Sirius unhelpfully from across the sofa. James knew he’d have hell to pay later from his best friend, but he’d deal with that after he spoke with Lily. And figured out what exactly they were playing at.
Lily flushed ten shades of red in a way that made James suspect Sirius’s wasn’t the only mind that had jumped to scandalous conclusions. Did that mean…? Did she think of him… like that? He’d brushed off all her sly glances this year as idle curiosity, even though he suspected it was more than that. His heart gave a painfully hopeful thump before he could sternly shut it down.
He crossed the hearth to Lily’s side and offered her his hand. She frowned at it, then seemed to realize how that would look to their friends and hastily slid her small palm into his. But as she stood next to him she shot him a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing. He shrugged. It was too late now and he didn’t feel sorry. If she didn’t like the consequences of the game she’d started, that wasn’t his problem.
“Right. See you lot later,” he called, savoring the deliciously foreign feeling of her small, soft hand in his. How many times had he dreamed of this? He was so daft about her he’d even fantasized about holding her hand.
If he took his time getting to the portrait hole, reveling in probably the only time he’d get to hold her hand in public, he wouldn’t apologize for it. He wasn’t that reformed.
Sure enough, as soon as they were through the portrait hole and standing alone in the muffled quiet of the nighttime corridor, Lily ripped her hand away with a hiss.
“What was that?!”
The fact that he’d expected her reaction didn’t completely prevent the sinking feeling in James’ gut as distrust and dislike crept back into her beautiful eyes. Pushing the feeling aside, he forced a smirk to lips.
“A good actor keeps character till he’s offstage, Evans.”
Lily’s eyes flashed, and she marched off up the corridor.
As Head Boy and Girl, their nightly rounds consisted of flushing out any would-be rule-breakers from their favorite after-hours haunts. Mostly it was a lot of interrupting snogfests in the broom closets nearest the House common rooms, and occasionally rousting stray Ravenclaws out of the library when they tried to sneak back in after it closed. Bloody boring. James’ primary feeling during rounds, aside from glee at getting to spend time with Evans, was disappointment in his fellow classmates’ lack of imagination.
“I don’t believe for one second you were acting,” Lily spat, as she flung back a tapestry that sometimes concealed scared Gryffindor first-years who’d forgotten the password. “You were enjoying that far too much.”
She was right. He had been enjoying it too much. Grimly, he thought just how easy it would have been to sink into the story he’d spun for their friends. He’d never wished something were real so badly in his life.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “You forget, Evans dear, that this was not my idea. I’d think you’d want to thank me for playing my role—to perfection, I might add.”
“I’ll thank you not to take advantage of our—our—situation!” she finished exasperatedly.
James felt a flash of irritation at that. Perhaps he had enjoyed holding her hand, but it wasn’t like he was the one who’d gotten them into their situation.
“That’s funny,” he said, his voice biting. “Because I don’t recall you asking me to the ball before you announced it to our friends. And I’d never touch a lady without her consent.”
“Well,” she muttered, flustered. “Just because we’re… we’re…”
“Fake dating?” James supplied, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, that. It doesn’t mean you can, you know...” she trailed off. Even in the moonlit half-dark of the hallway James could see the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Snog you senseless, perhaps?” he offered helpfully.
She rolled her eyes and huffed an annoyed breath, blowing her fringe off her forehead. It was devastatingly and completely bloody hot. “Well, yes,” she said, swottishly.
This was going to kill him. He needed to know what the hell was going on, where the boundaries were, and what she needed from him, because he was quickly losing sight of why he shouldn’t snog her senseless.
“Fine,” he said. “If we’re going to do this—and you still haven’t told me why, by the way—then we need some ground rules.”
A small, entrancing smile played across her lips, which only served to reinforce that rules were a good idea. “James Potter wants to make rules?” she teased.
James’ heart thudded painfully. Because he realized this was the first time Lily had ever teased him about anything, and he was dangerously close to forgetting this wasn’t real. He’d have given anything to tease her back, but he took flirting too seriously to start down that path without knowing where it ended.
“Yes, rules,” he said, not returning her smile. “Rule number one: I won’t touch you unless you touch me first.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Okay. Rule number two: this ends at the end of the Yule Ball.”
If he’d held out any fraction of hope that some small part of this was real, it died with her words. He knew Lily knew he loved her. Did she realize what this would do to him? Did she know how hard it would be for him to pretend to have everything he’d ever wanted for one night? Only for it to be ripped away at the end of what he was already certain would be the most perfect night of his life? Lily Evans was known for her kindness, but he couldn’t help feeling she was being a little cruel.
“Fine,” James agreed tightly.
Lily must not have noticed the dangerous edge of his mood, because the next thing she said didn’t make things any easier for him.
“You said unless I touch you first. What makes you think I’m going to touch you?”
James grit his teeth against the mental image of Lily running her hands over him—all over him—that her words provoked. He was far too close to getting what he’d wanted his entire life not to take the bait she’d just handed him. Some stupid, masochistic part of him wanted to prove to her that they wouldn’t need these rules if she didn’t want him, at least a little bit. In fact, they wouldn’t even be in this situation if she didn’t.
He glanced sharply at her. “For one thing, people will notice if we aren’t touching at all. Doesn’t make our ruse very believable.”
She frowned, clearly not having considered that angle. “Plenty of couples aren’t all over each other. I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”
But her voice wobbled with uncertainty, as her eyes traced his broad shoulders, trailing down his torso to his belt before abruptly dropping to the floor as a red flush rose in her cheeks. James burned hotter. She had him on a knife’s edge and she didn’t even realize. Three steps forward is all it would take. Fantasies of Lily pressed against the rough stone wall behind her filled his mind. Of his body covering hers, of finally popping the buttons down her white shirt, of flipping up the hem of that maddening school skirt and making her beg for release.
But he needed to know she wanted it first; needed her to understand what she was doing to him.
Having closely observed her for seven years, he’d noticed the way she’d started looking at him differently in the past year, as he’d grown and broadened so much he almost didn’t recognize himself sometimes. He’d seen her furtive glances, when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t oblivious to the effect his looks had on witches. If that was his foot in the door, so be it.
“You seem awfully afraid to touch me,” he drawled. He knew the affront to her courage would pique her, and sure enough, she snorted with derision. “You know what I think, Evans?” he continued ruthlessly. “I think the only reason you’d be afraid to touch me, is because you’re worried you’d like it.”
It was a wild shot in the dark, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he was right. Lily stiffened, sucking in an outraged gasp.
“You arrogant—”
“Toerag. I know.”
He knew he should stop goading her, but something dangerous and hot had awoken in him. His chest was roaring with satisfaction. He had to know for sure he was right. He had to know how far she would go.
“Go to hell, Potter,” Lily snarled. Her fists were balled at her sides, her eyes flashing with heat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but a dull flush was creeping up her cheeks and James knew he’d slipped past her defenses.
“I think you want me, and I think if you snogged me, you wouldn’t be able to deny it. And if you couldn’t deny it, then it might mean something. That’s what scares you.”
Lily reacted exactly as he knew she would. She cocked one eyebrow and sneered, “Is that so? Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”
Of the million and one ways James had imagined their first kiss, this had not been one of them. But upon further reflection, maybe this was the only way it could ever have been between them. If he had harbored any lingering doubts that he was lost to Lily—and had been since the first moment he saw her—they would have dispelled the instant her lips touched his.