After
It’s been nearly a week, and Lily and Sirius have not spoken once since waking up starkers next to each other. In fact, they’ve been avoiding each other completely, and Lily figures they’ve come to a mutual silent agreement to never speak of New Year’s Eve, 1976, ever again.
It breaks her heart, a little, to know that that night doesn’t mean as much to Sirius as it does to her. But she supposes it makes sense, considering it wasn’t his first time, only hers. She tries not to think about the way he looked at her, like a work of art. She tries not to think of the way he touched her, like a precious jewel. She tries not to think how it felt to have him inside her, like coming home. She tries to forget the whole thing, like Sirius so clearly wants to.
She tries.
On the first day after the winter holidays, Potter turns a piece of parchment into a rose and levitates it onto her desk during Transfiguration. Inside the admittedly beautiful petals, the words “Will you go out with me?” are written in a pretty purple ink. She rolls her eyes and looks over her shoulder at him a few rows back, refusing to flinch when she catches Sirius’s heavy gaze instead. She lets her eyes slide right over to Potter, whose cocky expression makes her raise a single brow.
“A rose, not a lily?” she asks, but her tone is teasing rather than derisive, and the way Potter brightens is really rather endearing. “You’ll have to try harder than that, James.”
His eyes widen when she uses his first name, and the genuinely hopeful smile that crosses his face makes her blush. Before she can be distracted any further, she turns back around to face the front of the class and resumes taking notes.
Next to Sirius, James is practically jumping out of his seat in excitement.
“Did you hear that, Padfoot? She called me James! And she didn’t say no to going out with me!”
Sirius fights back a scowl. “She didn’t say yes, either,” he can’t help but point out, though that doesn’t seem to faze his best friend.
“She said to ‘try harder,’ which means she’s considering it!” James insists. He immediately gets a sappy look on his face as he slips into one of his many Lily-focused daydreams, chin in hand and eyes unfocused. “I wonder what our kids are going to look like.”
The thought makes Sirius choke on air, as images of Lily naked beneath him, his cum spilling out between her legs come to the forefront of his mind, unbidden.
“You alright, Padfoot?” Remus calls from the desk he shares with Peter.
“Fine,” Sirius wheezes, desperately trying not to think of the way Lily’s breasts fit perfectly in his hands. His cock stirs at the direction his thoughts have gone, and he squeezes his eyes shut as if that will block them out. It fails desperately, and instead he sees the memory of Lily whimpering from overstimulation replay on the backs of his eyelids.
“You sure, mate?” Peter asks. “You look like you've just been kicked in the bollocks.”
Thank Merlin for Wormtail. The words make his cock wilt instantly, that phantom ache taking away the last of his arousal.
“I’m fine,” Sirius repeats, and this time he doesn’t sound quite so strained. He opens his eyes to see James still daydreaming, but Remus and Peter are peering at him curiously. He forces a smirk for them, gesturing to James with a jerk of his chin. “Just can’t stand it when he gets all dopey like this.”
Remus chuckles while Peter rolls his eyes.
“You’re just jealous the prettiest girl in our year isn’t interested in you,” Peter taunts, and although Sirius knows he doesn’t mean it, the jab stings.
At least I’m not a pathetic, snivelling rat, he thinks uncharitably, and is promptly horrified by himself. Why did I just think that? Peter isn’t pathetic! Merlin, I need help.
“Yeah, that’s what it is,” he admits, deadpan. Remus and Peter stare at him for a second before breaking into gales of laughter, prompting McGonagall to take points for disrupting the class.
I’m not joking, Sirius thinks as he joins James in staring longingly at the back of Lily’s head. I wish I was bloody joking.
Thoughts of Lily haunt him all day, as does guilt. Guilt for hooking up with Lily when he knows how James feels about her, guilt for ignoring her when he knows it was her first time, guilt for thinking badly of Peter just because he spoke the truth… Sirius is swimming in guilt, and he’s bloody miserable from it.
At dinner, Sirius spies Lily over by the Hufflepuff table speaking to Nigel Hawthorne. The boy’s face is red from having the pretty, older girl’s attention, but he’s smiling widely. The added reminder of that night is enough to make him groan out loud and drop his head on the table with a thunk.
Bloody fuck, that hurt, he thinks as he groans again, his time from the pain of a growing bump on his forehead.
Across from him, he hears muffled laughter. He looks up with a glare to see James and Peter snickering at him.
“What’s wrong with you, Padfoot?” James asks through his laughter. “You sound frustrated. I bet it’s sexual. How long’s it been since you last got laid, anyway?”
Sirius’s eyes widen and he quickly smacks his head back on the table, trying desperately to avoid looking at anyone as a fresh wave of guilt surges through him. Next to him, Remus lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“It’s dinnertime, Prongs. Can’t you be a little less crude?”
James rolls his eyes.
“Alright Moony, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I won’t interrogate Padfoot about his sexual conquests at the dinner table.”
Sirius lets out a small, relieved breath.
“I’ll wait till we’re back in the dorm.”
Fuck.
***
Thankfully, James doesn’t end up prying the truth about Sirius’s last lay from his cold, dead hands, deciding instead to plan how to next ask Evans out. This is only a marginally less painful topic of conversation, in his opinion.
“What about fireworks? I bet she’d love that,” Peter offers. Sirius scoffs, knowing for a fact she would not.
“Lily isn’t one for grand gestures,” James admits, still sounding as confused as he did in fourth year when he first came to that realization. Grand gestures are what he thrives on, after all.
“So just ask her normally,” Remus says, only half-paying attention as he works on his Arithmancy essay. Sirius agrees with him, but he knows James would never go for it. He needs at least some theatrical aspect to everything he does. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be James.
“I can’t do that!” James protests immediately, just like Sirius knew he would. “That's so—so mundane,” he adds, looking almost offended.
Remus looks skyward, and Sirius barks out a laugh.
“Give her a bouquet of lilies when you ask her out,” Remus suggests when he’s finally done praying for the strength to deal with them, probably. “That’s a good compromise between her sensibilities and your… Potterness.”
James nods slowly, his brows furrowing as he thinks about it. “Yeah, that could work,” he eventually concedes. “She did say something about liking lilies more than roses this morning. Pretty obvious, actually. I can’t believe I transfigured a rose for her. I’m an idiot.”
With that, James flops back on his bed with an exaggerated groan of despair.
“Can I borrow your cloak?” Sirius asks suddenly, ignoring James’s dramatics.
“Ugh, none of you appreciate me,” James mutters from his spot on his bed. “Yeah, whatever Pads. Go ahead.”
“Thanks mate,” Sirius mumbles, already digging around in James’s chest for the infamous Potter invisibility cloak. The more his best mate talks about Evans, about treating her right and being perfect for her, the more Sirius wants to hex something. He desperately wants to apologize to Lily for ignoring her, but he can’t because every time he sees her he wants to kiss her and the idea of betraying James again makes him want to die. He needs to go for a walk to clear his head of green eyes and red hair, and since he was too busy feeling sorry for himself at dinner, he figures he might as well grab something from the kitchens.
Unfortunately, on his way there, he stumbles across Evans and McKinnon in the common room. Before he can wonder what they’re even doing there at this time of night, he notices Lily’s red-rimmed eyes. His heart clenches, and he knows he should turn around and go back up to the dormitory, but he’s frozen.
“I still can’t bring myself to think that it was a mistake,” she says, and her friend wraps her arm around her comfortingly. “Even though he’s barely looked at me, and that hurts, Merlin, it hurts — the thought of that night never happening terrifies me.”
“You deserve better, Lily.” McKinnon says sharply. “Black’s a fucking arsehole for what he did to you.”
Lily laughs, but it sounds bitter, and Sirius feels like he’s been hit with a bludger; he has to lean against the wall to avoid falling. Everything is off balance, and McKinnon’s words ring in his head incessantly, blocking out everything else.
She deserves someone better, like James, he thinks in silent agreement as he drags himself back up to the dorm, no longer hungry. Guilt sits like a stone in his stomach, heavy and immovable, his ever constant companion.